Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series by Natasha Thomas Page B

I have no intention, none whatsoever, to go to Harvard or law school at all. If, and that’s a big if , I decided to go to college I will be going to study art.
    “Ah, who told you those were my plans, Oliver?” I ask knowing what his answer will be.
     
    “I believe it was your, Mother who told mine, who later communicated it to me. Why are you asking? Does it honestly matter how I found out?”
     
    Rolling my eyes, a very unladylike gesture, I reply,
    “Because that’s not going to happen, that’s why. I haven’t even looked at a college application, let alone given where I would go any thought.”
     
    “Why would your Mother say that if it wasn’t true? Surely you know it would be a good career path for you. Your Father has a lot of connections, your Uncle’s, Grandfather, and cousin too,” he states, scratching the back of his neck looking confused and annoyed.
     
    Placing both of my hands flat on the table, I sigh heavily.
    “Look, can we talk about something else? This isn’t a topic I feel comfortable talking about seeing as I haven’t made any decisions about my future yet.”
     
    An irrational flash of anger crossed, Oliver’s face at my words, and albeit he tried to hide it before I noticed, he wasn’t successful.
    “Why not?” he demands. “You should have already made those decisions, Bethany. We graduate high school in less than a week, and anyone who wants to make something of themselves has already applied, and in most cases gained early entry to the college of their choice. Do you plan on sitting around like a pampered princess for the rest of your life? Because without a proper education, that’s what you’re going to be doing.”
     
    I’m not sure where this guy gets off saying shit like that, but I’m glad we’ve already eaten because this date is over.
    “Thanks for the advice, Oliver. I appreciate it, but I’d like you to take me home now, please.”
     
    Throwing his napkin on the table, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, leaving some bills on the table, but not enough for a decent tip. Oliver doesn’t wait to see if I’m following him as he strides angrily from the dining room. Something that has me smiling, because I’m not sure if he knows it or not, but everyone is staring at his retreating form. Not very dignified if you ask me.
     
    I thought he would take me straight home when we got into his car, but when we turned toward the interstate, I knew that was never his intention to begin with. My panic rose, curling like a serpent in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know why that was my immediate reaction to his change of plans, but I had a feeling something wasn’t right. About him. About tonight. About everything. Gone was his polished exterior and good breeding, and in its place was a man vibrating with rage, capable of extreme violence.
     
    What happened next can only be described as the worst night of my life.
     
    Oliver pulled the car off the interstate and onto a service road. The tires spun on the gravel shoulder, throwing up dust and rocks in their wake. I had no idea what he had planned, but I knew I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Never. Oliver got out of the car, coming around to my door and dragging me out behind him.
     
    It’s funny, but in stressful situations, you tend to focus on the most ridiculous things. Like in this case; Oliver remembering to lock the car. I didn’t know where we were, but I hadn’t seen another car for over fifteen minutes so I highly doubted anyone was going to steal his prized possession.
     
    I struggled to free myself from the punishing grip he had on my wrist, twisting, turning, squirming to get away from him, but all that served to do was make him clamp his hand down harder. We had walked for at least five minutes before he stopped at a corpse of trees that sheltered us from view if anyone was to pass down the road we were parked on. Pushing my back against one, Oliver tore the front of my dress,