Claimed By The British Rockstar by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Maddox

I walk up to the rundown looking house as the stars watch from the sky and Myla watches from the passenger seat of the Jaguar. It’s eerily quiet except for a few voices from inside, but it’s not the loud, boisterous scene I’d expected as we were driving over here.

I walk up the steps, past two trash bags, one with a split down the middle, and slam the door with my fist.

There’s a fire burning in my chest from Myla’s story, her words replaying in my head over and over, the way Aaron manipulated her kind spirit, her desire to fit in.

I feel my body stiffen in desire, but this is a different kind of desire, a need to do serious fucking damage to this worm.

I slam the door again, causing it to tremble on it’s frame and kick up bits of dirt from the floor.

Finally, it swings open, revealing a crowded living room full of about fifteen frat looking young men, with backward caps and tank tops and, I see when I look closer, bloated muscles that look like they’ve been on the juice.

The man who answers has a twice broken nose and a leer that tells me he’s ready for a fight, and I stare him down, letting my eyes sear into him.

I might just be a rock star and a businessman, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by while my woman, the future mother of my children, is insulted and humiliated.

She’s mine.

And that means she has my protection.

“Which one of you is Aaron?” I snap.

Near the rear of the room, one of the men looks up from what I assume is a card game. He’s just like Myla described him in the car, black haired with a pointy chin and a no-neck torso, a real meathead look about him. Tonight, he’s wearing a baggy orange jersey and shorts that show off his large, swollen muscles.

“Who’s asking?” he snaps.

“I am,” I growl. “Come over here, kid. I need to talk to you.”

“Who the fuck you calling kid, old man?” Aaron snarls, standing up and swaggering over.

All round the room, his frat friends are standing up and tensing, posturing, some of them clenching their fists and one man popping his head from side to side.

They’re getting ready for a fight.

Good.

Aaron walks to the door and stands there, his shoulders squared.

“What?” he spits out.

“Come out here,” I tell him. “I need to talk to you in private.”

“What you wanna do, man?” he snarls. “Suck my dick?”

His hyenas cackle like it’s the funniest thing he could’ve said, and for a moment I see nothing but red. I imagine grabbing him by the throat and squeezing as hard as I can, just tensing my fist so that my forearm applies its massive pressure and crushes his pathetic neck.

But then the promise I made to Myla resurfaces in my mind.

I said I’d only act in self-defense.

“You said I’m an old man, right?” I growl. “So what’ve you got to be scared of? Get out here.

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