The Brat
by Megan Slayer
Mafia Romance, Age Gap, Suspense
Date Published: August 8, 2025
Daddy’s Girl…
Betty Ann
I love my position as the daughter of the King of Clubs. I do what I want,
when I want, and get what I want -- I don't like being told no. Ever. Daddy
lets me get away with everything. Not Sarge, though. He drives me crazy and
makes me play by the rules... So why do I want to keep him around?
Sarge
I'm Army to the core and live for the rules. I need order, but BA creates
chaos. She pushes and demands. She wants everything... So why do I want to
give it to her? I can't resist her and I should. Her father will destroy me if
I touch her and I very much want to touch her. But is the saucy woman in the
mini dress worth my life?
She just might be.
EXCERPT
Betty Ann
“I don’t think there’s any man who can tame me, Nina.”
Betty Ann Morris stood in front of her floor-length mirror and ran her fingers
through her stick-straight hair. “I don’t.”
Nina, her best friend and closest confidante, joined her at the mirror.
“I don’t know. You’re nineteen. I’m sure there’s
someone out there. Has to be.”
Betty Ann considered what Nina had said, but didn’t agree. She
wasn’t that naive. Men viewed her one of two ways -- either as the pixie
that needed to be given some experience, only to find out she had more than
they did, or as a tart who deserved to be treated like shit.
“You don’t believe me.” Nina shrugged, then walked out of
view. “You’ve grown up too fast. So have I, but whatever.”
“Deep.” Betty Ann turned on her heel and strode over to her
closet. Nina wasn’t wrong about them growing up too fast. How could she
not? Her father – known as The King of Clubs -- owned the biggest chain
of nightclubs in the tristate area. She’d frequented his clubs since she
was far too young to be in such places. She’d mixed with the wrong
crowds and tried things she never should’ve been around.
Why? It was fun. She flipped a lock of her hair over her shoulder, then
considered her wardrobe. “We’re going out tonight.”
“Like we do every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.” Nina
padded across the thick carpet. She held up a teal sequined dress, then tossed
the garment onto the bed. “What about that one?” She pointed to a
black dress.
“Might work.” She wasn’t sure which dress she’d
choose. She’d seen a few things in her nineteen years. Getting close to
her wasn’t possible most of the time. If her father wasn’t forcing
men away, they ended up dead. “Where do you want to go? Vodka Lounge? Or
The Martini?”
“I thought we’d try the new one. Hitchcock’s.” Nina
shrugged into a tight pink dress. The bright color worked well with her dark
hair. The fabric pressed against her breasts and showcased her nipples. When
she danced, she’d definitely gain attention.
“I like that dress on you. Looks better with your complexion than it
does with mine.” She yanked dresses aside, until she found something
suitable. “How about this one?” She plucked a navy dress. The
garment sparkled with a few thousand crystals.
“Yes.” Nina nodded. She laced up the side of her dress.
“That works with your curves and the color of your hair.”
Betty Ann had to agree. She’d spent a fortune on the bleaching process
this time around. Some might want the brassy look, but she insisted on her
blonde being as California blonde as possible. Beachy, natural-looking and
perfect for her skin tone. Call her vain, but she insisted she looked good.
She stepped into the dress and slipped her arm through the lone strap. Once
she adjusted the garment around her breasts, showcasing plenty of cleavage,
she zipped the side. The second the fabric encased her torso, a jolt of
electricity rocked through her. The right dress always set the tone for the
night.
She pulled her hair back from her face and stood before her makeup table.
“That’s one thing I’ve always loved about you. Unlike most
girls our age, you know how to do your makeup without overdoing it,”
Nina said. “I’m jealous of your skills with a makeup brush.”
“The trick is to keep your makeup as simple as possible so it looks
natural. If you do that, then you won’t age yourself.” She
finished applying a nude eye shadow, then applied the perfect cat-eye liner.
“Are you going to bag a man tonight?” Nina asked. She pursed her
lips before swiping another line of lipstick across her bottom lip. “You
always do -- when you want one.”
“I’m considering it.” She finished her makeup, then left the
mirror. “I never get turned down. You don’t either.”
“Because I get your leftovers.” Nina remained at the mirror.
“I don’t think that guy at The Martini was all that thrilled to
get me over you.”
“He wasn’t my type and he sure seemed interested in you.”
Betty Ann opened the door to her shoe closet. “That’s why I
steered him to you.”
“I didn’t mind, but it would’ve been nice if he did like
me.” Nina finished her makeup. “I’m not gorgeous like
you.”
“Who says?” She selected a pair of strappy sandals. She’d
been walking in heels since she was thirteen and had perfected her sway.
“Me.” Nina stepped into her shoes, then picked up her clutch
purse. “You like to play with fire. Those guys at the club aren’t
going to want a princess.”
She snorted. “You’re saying I’m a princess?” Of
course, she was. She insisted on getting her way, she could be a brat and she
demanded a lot from everyone.
“You should have a crown.” Nina clicked her purse shut. “Are
we going to be able to bring purses or just keep them in the car?”
“Car.” She fastened the strap on her left shoe, then adjusted the
one on the right shoe. “It’s safer that way. We won’t get
our shit stolen and the bouncers have to do whatever I want.”
She’d been spoiled that way.
“I know.” Nina waited for Betty Ann to finish smoothing her dress.
“You’re going to find a guy who isn’t turned on by your
princess act, won’t like that you can’t exist without
daddy’s money and clout, and he’ll make you think twice about your
lifestyle.”
“Right,” she replied. “I know who to play with and who to
throw back. If the guy is going to give me too much shit, then he’s not
worth it. Let’s go.” She flicked her hand.
With Nina behind her, she strode downstairs to the ground floor, through the
kitchen to the expansive foyer before stopping under the covered driveway
arch.
Her favorite car was driven up to where she stood and Dirks, the driver she
liked best, exited the vehicle. He opened the back door for her.
“Thank you, Dirks.” She settled on the seat, then moved over for
Nina. “We’re going to Hitchcock’s.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He closed the door behind Nina and hustled
around the hood to the driver’s side. The privacy glass kept him from
listening to their conversation. She swore he still listened in on what she
said, but she wasn’t positive.
“You might know who to play with and who to avoid, but there’s a
guy out there who won’t be such a pushover,” Nina said. “One
you can’t order around.”
“I doubt that.” Betty Ann stared out the window at the landscape
flying by. Living on more than one hundred acres was nice, but it made quick
trips to town almost impossible. “Men are here to be played with. They
don’t want relationships -- not with a girl like me.”
Guys her age wanted to bag “the hot chick” and older men wanted to
bag the “hot young girl.” If she was told one more time she had
coltish legs, she’d scream. Yes, she had long legs and knew how to wrap
them around a man’s waist during sex, but she wasn’t wobbly on
those legs. Not by a long shot.
“What do you mean?” Nina asked. “You’ll find a man
tonight. Bet me you won’t.”
“How much?”
“One hundred bucks.”
Nina hadn’t even flinched. Damn. “You’re on. What are the
terms?”
“I bet you find the one man tonight that makes you give him two nights.
The guy who makes you think twice. You’ll get hung up on him,”
Nina said. “And you’ll like it.”
“And I bet you that’s all bullshit.”
Nina shrugged, then held out her hand. “You’ll see.”
“Nina.” She nudged her friend. “It won’t
happen.” Men were toys to play with. They were meant to be discarded
when they outlived their welcome. There was always another waiting when she
desired.
“You’ll get hung up on this one and lose your head.” Nina
laughed. “Not that I want your money. I want to see you eat your
words.”
“Never.”
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of
more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works
are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a
second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at
the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best MĂ©nage, Best BDSM and
Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various
e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
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