Ivy

by Willa Nash

because it wasn’t a house. It was a manor. Clarence Manor.

One, and only one, person at Aston knew about her past. And he’d vowed never to share the ugly truth.

“Oh, not mine. Ivy’s. Didn’t she tell you? You’re the new toy.” Cassia’s head began spinning. “W-what?” “Word of advice,” Elora said. “She’s used to getting her way. Don’t let her win. It’ll be much more entertaining if you put up a fight.”

So why did she have this feeling that she’d just traded one hell for another?

Ivy’s greatest pleasure came from pushing people. From seeing how far they’d let her shove. Usually, it was out the front door.

And in the center of it all, there he was. He sat on the largest couch with a tumbler of amber liquid in hand as he surveyed his club. A king on his throne. Zain.

This was why she came to Treason. Not for the music. Not for the crowd. Not for the dancing. She came for him. What would Ivy say if she knew Elora was fucking her older brother?

It was her turn to invade his personal space. She leaned over, speaking so closely to his mouth that their lips brushed. But she planted a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from closing the distance. “If you want to walk out of here with your cock attached, remove your hand from my leg. When I want you to touch me, I’ll tell you when and where.”