Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,1

my skin. I stood tall, meeting the hellfire gaze of the woman I’d once seen as a person I thought I could aspire to.

This kick-ass bitch, holding her own in a world full of men.

The kind that looked down on women, not seeing them as equals.

Though what I hadn’t realized when I’d first met her was her hold over these men wasn’t because they looked up to her, and it wasn’t because they respected her or the millions of dollars she had worked hard for.

No.

This world didn’t run on respect.

It was fueled by fear.

And Lisa Eyler had every single one of these men by the fucking balls.

When I didn’t move, she stormed forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair in her hand. I squashed the painful scream that filled my throat, feeling single hairs be ripped from my scalp as she pulled harder, forcing me to sink back, then onto my knees to escape the pain.

“You want to go back home, Angie?” she taunted, crouching down and pressing her face right in close to mine. She reached out, brushing away the stray tears that were now decorating my cheeks, thanks to the pulsating ache in my skull. “I brought you here,” she whispered, the gentle tone much like that of a mother trying to soothe her child. “I protected you from your dad. Paid for you to go to a good school. Found sponsors so you could join your little swim team.”

I was finally getting good grades, and I had always had this addiction to the water, but now with her backing me, I had the chance to make the national team.

Gritting my teeth, I listened to the speech, the one I’d heard time and fucking time again.

How she was so good to me.

How she had saved me.

Given me a life I could have never dreamed of.

Reminding me of what I could go back to if I wanted to walk away.

A run-down apartment with the electricity turned off more often than it was on. The constant questioning of whether I would eat that day because my father spent everything he had earned on alcohol. Then used me as his personal punching bag because apparently, it was my fault my mom walked out on us.

I paid for my parents’ decisions every single damn day of my life.

That was until two years ago when Lisa showed up like the fairy fucking godmother I thought I deserved. She told me I was beautiful, told me how much potential I had to be something amazing, and I was at a place in my life where I didn’t even need amazing.

I would have been happy with just being something.

Anything.

She offered me a lifeline.

So I took the leap.

Right into the fires of hell.

And here was I was, praying that one day they might actually destroy me.

Lisa finally released me from her tight grip, my sore and aching body sinking back onto the floor. “Now you’re going to get up,” she explained, her fingers caressing my jaw as she stepped back. “You’re going to plaster a beautiful, welcoming smile on your face, and you are going to please the man I send in here for you. Are we clear?”

Gritting my teeth, I fought every natural urge I had to fight back, knowing it wouldn’t be any use.

All it would get me was punishment.

Locked away.

Possibly beaten.

And while telling Lisa to go fuck herself could have been worth a few days of not being able to get out of bed, it wasn’t worth it.

Because a few days ago, things changed.

So I shut my mouth.

“I said… Are. We. Clear?”

I cleared my throat, swallowing back the tears, and answered, “Crystal.”

1

Zoey

“Blair, move it,” I called from the front door of our little two-bedroom apartment.

My foot tapped impatiently on the tiled floor as I once again took another look at the time on my phone. I was going to be late—nothing new there.

“Keep your pants on,” my teenage daughter screamed back at me, forcing me to take two deep, hopefully calming breaths.

The kid was the brightest light in my life, but Blair was also the sharpest pain in my ass. She was like a walking, talking lesson in karma.

A few seconds later, Blair came flying out of her room, her backpack hanging from one shoulder as she hopped around fighting to pull on one of her shoes. “I’m just letting it be known again…” she protested, slightly out of breath, “… I’m not happy about this.” Blair finally got the defiant shoe on