Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 707

Chapter 707 Let’s Teach This B*tch a Lesson!

"Where's Brendan?" Deirdre demanded.

"Brendan's not here, sweetheart!" The middle-aged man brought his beer mug toward her and caressed her cheeks.

"You're here to serve us."

Serve? Deirdre's eyes trembled. She slapped the man’s hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

The crowd erupted into laughter.

"Oh! Spicy!"

The middle-aged man grabbed her hand with the strength of a lobster’s claw. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

"But what if I’m touching you, huh? What are you gonna do about it, huh? Brendan got you here to be our entertainment for the night, sweetheart. Make us happy, and we'll make you very happy too!"

Deirdre's quivering eyes turned red. She was shaking. Brendan had sent her there to be their plaything!?

Achill ripped through her innards. Every breath felt like a stab to her lungs. No wonder Brendan had told her to come here and to put on something " nice”. He never planned to let her live in peace-he wanted to humiliate her to win back Charlene’s heart!

The man reached out again. "Come drink with me, babe!”

Deirdre gnashed her teeth, shoved the man away, and lurched at the handle to the door. She tugged- and felt her blood turn to ice. The door would not budge.

Someone had locked the door from the outside.

"F*ck!" The middle-aged she shoved had crashed onto the couch while everyone else was watching. Hugely embarrassed, he regained her balance and decked his heavy hand across her cheek. "You're the one wh*ring yourself out for cash, so stop acting like a princess waiting for us to please you!"

A jolt of pain stung Deirdre as her lips clashed with her teeth. Before she could recover from the slap, the man yanked her hair and slammed her down on the table, the shockwave causing beer bottles to roll and fall in a racket.

The room was silent for a moment before a cheer erupted. "Oh! Atta boy, Mr. Cruz! Teach that b*tch a lesson!"

"Yeah! Before every where starts thinking they are better than us even though they're supposed to suck our d*cks for money!"

“Brighthall would be pleased to see Mr. Cruz educate his stubborn b*tch into submission, I bet. Who doesn't like a girl who knows her place and manners?"

Mr. Cruz relished in the flatteries. He held his cup and pried Deirdre’s lips open before pouring beer into her mouth. It stung so badly the poor young woman shook her head as hard as she could, but her arms were grappled by someone else. Her eyes watered.

Her face was stricken with beer as the crowd jeered and gibbed.

Deirdre trembled and wished she could kill herself. She was being treated like an animal for entertainment-completely dehumanized.

And this was all Brendan's fault.

During her struggle, her coat slipped and exposed her ivory-fair shoulder. It must have summoned one of the men’s lust as he caressed her exposed skin instantly. "No wonder Brighthall picked her. She's a f*cking million- dollar, which means she must feel like a million dollar to f*ck!"

Mr. Cruz narrowed his eyes and began to undo his belt excitedly. ‘Time to teach this b*tch some submission!"

Then, right in front of everyone, he reached out to tear Deirdre's dress apart.

Desperation was all that was left. She looked at the ceiling, tears rolling from either edge of her eyes.

At that moment, the door was suddenly kicked open. At first, the crowd was clearly incensed-someone had decided to come in at the wrong time, after all. Then, when they saw who it was, they were stunned for a moment before greeting with smiles.

“There you are, Brighthall! I was about to teach this b*tch a lesson! Give me some time to savor the moment; you can wait there. And then we can talk about our proje"