Pet: A Dark Menage Romance Read online

  Pet

  A Dark Menage Romance

  Isabella Starling

  Copyright © 2017 by Isabella Starling

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Playlist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  SNEAK PEEK

  Exclusive sneak peek!

  About the Author

  Also by Isabella Starling

  Playlist

  PET Playlist

  1. Whethan, MAX, Flux Pavilion - Savage

  2. The Chainsmokers, Coldplay - Something Just Like This

  3. Halsey - Hold Me Down

  4. Axwell & Ingrosso - On My Way

  5. Swedish House Mafia, Pharrell Williams - One (Your Name)

  6. triste noir, Broderick Jones - It’s Time

  7. Prismo - Weakness

  8. Veorra - Run

  9. Zedd, Alessia Cara - Stay

  10. Two Feet - Go F*ck Yourself

  11. Mickey Valen, Feli Ferraro - Wildcard

  12. R3hab, Black Caviar - Icarus

  13. Phoebe Ryan - Dark Side

  14. Peking Duk, Jackal, Elliphant - Stranger

  15. Marshmello, Ookay, Noah Cyrus - Chasing Colors

  16. Bebe Rexha - I Got You

  17. Years & Years - King

  18. System of a Down - Chop Suey!

  19. Billy Talent - Surrender

  20. Saosin - You’re Not Alone

  21. Sparta - While Oceana Sleeps

  22. Glasvegas - It’s My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry

  23. Babyshambles - Fuck Forever

  Official Pet playlist on Spotify here.

  This book is not for you.

  This book is for me.

  - Isabella

  One

  Sapphire

  I was barely legal, eighteen and a few months. I got a job catering at an art gallery in town. Being shit out of luck, I took it with open arms. My birthday money had run out, and I was struggling to find a job. I was at that point where I didn’t want to settle for waitressing just yet.

  I’d just graduated from high school the year before, and, to the mortification of my parents, I never enrolled in college. I’d fobbed them off with lies of a gap year, but in reality, I had no idea whether I’d ever go to school again. I was too headstrong, too restless to stick to something for the next few years of my life.

  So when my roommate Veronica told me about the job, I listened. It was good pay. One night of work, and I’d leave with a hundred bucks. I was fine with that. My parents were getting tight with money, giving me less and less and probably seeing right through every lie. We’d grown apart in my teenage years. I used to be Daddy’s girl, now I was just a lost lamb.

  Veronica and I were standing in a closet in the gallery. She was getting ready to bolt, and I was getting ready to work. My poor body had no idea it would be fucked relentlessly in only an hour or so.

  “Wear this,” Veronica said, passing me her uniform with an anxious expression. She was my roommate along with another girl, Jessica. We’d never really bonded, but I knew Veronica was grateful I was covering for her. It was her full-time gig, but she had a date with her boyfriend. She’d told me the night before she was hoping he’d pop the question.

  I took the clothes she handed me. A black pencil skirt and a white blouse with a black bow-tie – simple enough. I was taller than Veronica, but she was full-figured where I was lanky.

  “Do I just tell them I’m Veronica?” I asked, slipping out of my leggings and shirt. “What if they ask questions?”

  “Don’t worry,” Veronica said. “It’s not the usual team today, they called in some extra people since it’s a big event.”

  She watched me as I got changed, her eyes grazing my figure and making me self-conscious. My mom had always told me I was a late bloomer. I’d only grown breasts in my final year of high school, and even now, they weren’t big. My hips and shoulders were narrow, but my waist was even narrower. As I put on Veronica’s clothes, I realized my assumptions about them fitting me were way off. They hung off some parts of my body and clung to others in the most uncomfortable, unflattering way.

  “These don’t fit well at all.” I sighed, giving Veronica a nervous look.

  “You look great, Sapphire,” Veronica lied with a fake smile. I cringed hearing my name on her lips. I’d always hated that pretentious fucking thing.

  “I’m going to head out now,” she said, “Please, don’t mess this up for me. I know it’s a lot to ask of you… But I need this job so badly. Especially if Trevor asks me to marry him and we move in together.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile and smoothed down the apron I’d just fastened around my midriff. “Seriously, Nic, what could go wrong?” I asked. “It’ll be just fine. Go to your dinner, and don’t worry. I can’t wait to hear all about it later.”

  She gave me a grin, an actual, genuine grin. Veronica and I weren’t close – not by a longshot. But that smile gave me hope that maybe we’d connect over what was happening.

  Nic leaned closed to me and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before running off into the night. I was still smiling to myself as I took a deep breath, trying to stop my hands from shaking. Why on earth was I so nervous? My only job was to carry around a tray of canapés and smile like a good girl. Something I was surely capable of, even with my minimal talents.

  Another deep breath, and I walked out of the closet and into the lobby. Right away, chaos greeted me. People were running around frantically, setting up for the big night.

  “Are you Veronica?” someone asked me anxiously, and I looked down into the brown eyes of a stocky guy with a fervent expression. “Please say you are, otherwise I will lose my fucking marbles.”

  “Yes,” I lied smoothly, an action that came so easily to me lately. “I’m Veronica. Am I late or something?”

  “Am I late, she asks,” the guy rolled his eyes. “Ten minutes fucking late. Come with me before I call the goddamn company I got you from.”

  He grabbed my forearm and half-guided, half-dragged me across the room to a group of frazzled-looking people in matching outfits to mine. I caught the eye of a hot guy with dark hair and gray eyes and shot him a sweet smile. He grinned in return and my tummy gave that flutter I love so much.

  I wasn’t really a femme fatale. I knew that my looks – extremely
long, blonde hair with baby blues and pearly whites to boot – only merited a cute girl next door. But I knew how to play my best assets. I was the good girl gone bad, just sweet enough to hold their interest, just slutty enough to catch their attention. Too bad none of my exes could do the same for me. I got bored really fast.

  “Are you paying attention, Ver-o-ni-ca?”

  I looked up to find the guy who’d led me there glaring at me. I motioned for him to go on and he sighed heavily.

  “I swear, this is the most incompetent fucking group of…” the guy muttered to himself, before massaging his temples dramatically. “My name is Elliot fucking Richards. I threw this shindig, and you’d better make me proud, or there’ll be fucking hell to pay.”

  He glared right at me.

  “And I mean fucking hell. I’ll skin you and wear you as a coat if you mess this up,” he said, clicking his fingers for emphasis.

  We all straightened up and I looked at the floor with burning cheeks. Jesus, this guy was intense. I’d have to bite my tongue and not sass him, or he’d probably crucify me while the rest of the waiters cheered him on.

  “So the fucking menu is on the fucking list in front of you. Don’t fucking mess it up. Carry the fucking trays. Answer any fucking questions. Do a good fucking job. And make Elliot fucking proud.” Elliot flashed an angelic smile. So he was insane and bipolar. What a winning combination.

  We all milled around the tables for the next hour, setting up the hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes. As far as I knew, the evening was in honor of a young artist called Helene something or other, who’d gotten a rich benefactor to sponsor her stuff. Veronica told me it was utter shit, and Helene had only gotten as far as she did by banging the right people. I was curious about the actual art, wondering whether it would really be as shit as Nic claimed.

  I was too preoccupied with folding napkins and setting trays to wonder, though, and the hour passed in no time. My waist-length hair was getting in the way, so I pinned it up in a chignon as I worked with the rest of the waiters.

  Every so often, a tall, light-haired guy would catch my eye, and I played my role perfectly. A shy smile here, an averted gaze there. I was sure he was hooked.

  “What’s a pretty girl like you doing serving food?”

  I turned towards the direction of the voice, pleased to see the man decided to approach me, just like I knew he would.

  “Well, I’ve got to make money somehow, don’t I?” I drawled, batting my eyelashes.

  He used such a generic line to talk me up, I was almost disappointed. I’d been hoping for something a little more original. A little worthier of my attention.

  “That’s true,” the man said, snapping up a prawn canapé from my platter and taking a bite. “Mm, this is lovely.”

  Quickly growing bored and disappointed with the way our conversation was moving, I smiled politely, bowed my head and moved out of his path. Once I’d gotten them to talk to me, I seemed to easily get bored. Unfortunately, that meant I didn’t get laid nearly as much as I wanted to.

  Well… I’d never gotten laid per se. Which wasn’t something I liked to admit to anyone, least of all myself.

  The man followed me, and when I felt his cold, clammy hand on my elbow, I had this sinking feeling he was going to cause trouble.

  “Now don’t you run away from me,” he said. It was only then that I noticed the slight slur in his words. He was drunk – or at the very least, on a very good path to being drunk.

  “I have work to do,” I excused myself politely. “You’re not the only hungry person around here, sir!”

  He scowled at me. “I told you not to leave,” he snarled, and his grip on my elbow tightened. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing several well-to-do people who chose to avert their eyes so they wouldn’t have to witness the scene unfolding between us.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, this time with more determination. “I’m going to have to leave now.”

  “Says who?” the man demanded.

  I moved away from him, forcefully tearing my arm out of his grasp, when I bumped into another man.

  Only he wasn’t just a man. At the risk of sounding like an absolute twat, he was an absolute god.

  Tall. Broad-shouldered. Handsome. Dark. You know the thing, ticking all the boxes to make me go weak at the knees. But there was something else there, and it made my head spin.

  He exuded power. My body wanted to obey. I wanted to do whatever this man told me to. I wanted to submit.

  Unused to such a strange sensation, I furrowed my brows, and the dishes on my platter rattled as I stared at the mountain of a man before me. I was unnerved by my reaction, and I didn’t quite like it. I liked being in control – always. It was the only way I felt safe.

  Of course, the man wasn’t even looking at me. It seemed as if he hadn’t even noticed I’d bumped into him with all my might.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered, but he stood still, not moving an inch, even though I cleared my throat like six times.

  “What’s going on, Evans?” he asked in a booming deep voice that made me want to suck on his lips. Jesus fuck, what was happening to me? This man was driving me insane with a few words and his physical stature alone.

  He was looking at the man who’d been bothering me, and the guy – Evans, I assumed – returned an angry look.

  “Leave me be,” he slurred. “Just having a pleasant chat with this waitress.”

  “Doesn’t seem like she’s enjoying it,” the man said calmly. “Why don’t you step away and let me talk to her manager?”

  “What?” I asked incredulously, my heart picking up a beat. “You can’t do that. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  The thought of getting into trouble, of fucking things up for Veronica, made me feel sick. I thought I’d retch all over Mr. Trouble’s expensive-looking suit, but I managed to keep it in. Instead, I turned my pleading puppy eyes to his, but he didn’t even notice.

  “Step aside, Evans,” he said.

  “Fuck off.” Evans swayed and, being too focused on Trouble’s delicious smirk, I wasn’t careful enough and Evans landed right in my platter of canapés, sending it rattling to the floor.

  By now, everyone’s attention was on us. Of-fucking-course. When I actually needed help, everyone ignored me. Now that I was in trouble? They might as well have shone a fucking spotlight on me.

  With my cheeks burning up, I dropped to my knees and quickly started scooping up the food off the floor, gathering the cracked dishes and putting them back on the platter. I heard voices above me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliot glaring at me and wildly gesticulating for me to get back into the kitchen, probably so he could scream his head off.

  I was in big trouble.

  As I cleaned up, I noticed Mr. Trouble was wearing a pair of black leather boots, a bit of an unusual choice for a gallery opening, even if I wasn’t some kind of fashion guru. And his feet were unmoving, even though Evans had walked away moments prior.

  Suddenly, one of the boots nudged my foot gently. I looked up from my kneeling position on the floor, and Trouble was staring down at me, finally acknowledging my existence.

  I felt heat rushing to my center. I didn’t understand sex very well – apart from the stolen moments I shared with myself while my roommates were sleeping – but I could feel wetness growing between my legs, and I knew it meant fucking trouble.

  “Get up,” Trouble told me.

  “No,” I refused blatantly.

  He shrugged. “Fine. I like you kneeling, anyway.”

  As if my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, I picked up the platter and glared at him, finally getting up – an act of defiance. “Fuck you.”

  “What a filthy mouth you have,” he told me with disdain, his eyes locking on mine. “A dirty mouth for such a proper, well-behaved little slut.”

  I was blushing something fierce and my heart was pounding. “I beg your pardon?” I asked. I shook my head to get the thought out, strands of
blonde hair leaving my chignon. I propped the tray I was carrying up on one hand, offering it to the man in front of me. “Crab cake?”

  “I’m good,” he told me darkly. His eyes were on me. All over me. It felt like he was fucking me with his gaze alone, and shit, it was intense. My panties were flooded, a right mess in such a proper place. I felt chastised from his eyes, like he knew exactly what was happening between my legs. The man smirked, an expression full of pity on his face. His expression lingered, just a fraction of a second too long, before someone pulled him aside.

  His eyes slid off my face, and I was forgotten. Just like that.

  Left standing alone in the middle of the room, I cleared my throat awkwardly and walked off with my fucked-up platter. I was shaking, my legs threatening to give out. I had to hold on to the wall as I made it to the kitchen.

  “What the fucking hell are you doing?” Elliot’s enraged voice cut through my haze. “You fucking dropped the food, Ver-o-ni-ca. If you don’t want me to strangle you right the fuck now, get a new platter and get the fucking hell out of my sight.”

  I nodded, thankful he hadn’t chastised me further. Instead of arguing with him, I grabbed a fresh platter of desserts and headed outside. I needed to clear my mind of Evans and his goddamned rude friend.

  I needed to do my job. Fuck knows I needed the hundred bucks badly.