Chapter 27
Mia
DRESSES AND SHOES WITH red bottoms and purses with a signature lock and keys were carted up to my room only hours later.
All sorts of colors, all much more expensive than literally the whole wardrobe in my closet.
The one dress that stood out to me was a deep pink, though, and he messaged me within ten minutes of me looking at them.
Daily report.
Franny’s not even here for the weekend.
I need a daily report from you too.
Do you like any of the dresses?
I can send others.
He asked the questions so fast I couldn’t respond, and I realized he might be nervous.
Or you can wear whatever you want.
I like the dresses. All of them.
What color are you wearing?
I sent him a picture of the one I had liked initially.
Damn. You look good in your favorite color, Darling. Now purse and shoes?
Still working on that. Do you realize whoever sent all this sent me ten of each?
And? Are the purses and shoes not your style? I’ll get rid of them if you don’t like any.
I like them all. They’re ridiculously expensive.
If you like them all, keep them all. Remember, YOUR worth is priceless. The cost of a few shoes and purses doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.
Was he sure about that? I Googled one of the purses and screenshotted him the price.
That one purse is worth more than a car, Jameson. I have ten cars’ worth of shoes right now.
I’ll send more if you don’t pick one soon to wear tonight. You got fifteen minutes before I come to your room and then we’re leaving.
Just to keep him on his toes, I knocked on his door ten minutes later. I felt different, more daring, riskier, more me. I didn’t want to submit so easily to his demands anymore.
Not if I was going to be a part of this world. Not if I was going to make that choice for myself. I’d decided big things on my own before, and I’d do it again.
He frowned at me, and then after giving me a look, he nodded. Like he knew. Like he got me better than anyone else. “You look fucking divine, darling devil. Like I’m going to murder more men tonight.”
“Please don’t.” I shook my head at him as he kissed my cheek.
On our way out, I stopped in front of the door that was off-limits.
“This stupid, beautiful, maddening door.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at it. “Such intricate lines and beautiful woodwork, and the keyhole is as old as time. How can you expect anyone not to want to go in there?”
“It’s a window into the life I had before.”
“A window you don’t want me to see?”
“Mia, one step at a time … For me?”
I’d give him that. Just because I was ready for everything didn’t mean he was. A relationship had to be give-and-take, trust and be trusted. I wanted that with him.
Well, I wanted that until he steered me through another side door, out to the garage, and I was shocked to see it led to another whole bay where there were more motorcycles and vehicles.
“Are we taking the SUV or—”
“Ducati.”
“Oh, I don’t—I have a dress on.”
“That’s short enough for this exact purpose.” He eyed me up and down. “And other purposes.”
I chose to ignore that as I stared at the bike. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”
His smirk finally appeared with dimples. A genuine smile at my freaking fear. “I like knowing I’ll be your first. Let’s go for a ride.”
“Jameson … I don’t think so.”
“Put your helmet on, Mia.”
“It might be better for me to catch a ride with Archer, or Hades, or is your brother going? I’m happy to take an SUV with them. Could he pick me up?”
He positioned the sleek black helmet over my head and curls.
Luckily, they were natural and wouldn’t flatten completely even as he firmly slid it onto my skull.
He hooked his arm around me and yanked me toward him, then so he was close enough to secure the buckle under my chin and test how snug it was on my head. “You’ll be fine, baby. I got you.”
That calmed my nerves a little, but I was still leery. It may seem odd, but this might scare me more than what I’d been through the night before. Motorcycles were death traps. Everyone knew that. “I’d still feel better going with your brother in the SUV.”
Jameson’s eyes flashed as he walked over to that menacing-looking machine and threw his leg over it so fluidly that my mouth watered.
Motorcycles might be death traps, but I might also be a simple woman.
Him sitting there with his tats out and his helmet on, only his eyes glaring at me, did things to my ovaries.
“Get on the bike, Mia.”
The command was delivered with enough authority that I knew I wasn’t getting my way.
I slid on to it slowly. I tried not to press my body up to him, but within a second, he’d gripped my wrists and placed them on his stomach before grabbing my thighs and pulling me close, so close I felt every one of his back muscles ripple against my chest.
Then he turned and murmured, “Hold on, baby.”
The garage door lifted and he kickstarted the machine, revving the throttle before we launched into the evening sunset.
He didn’t go fast or take any sharp turns.
Instead, he cruised down his winding drive, letting the wind brush through my hair almost like a caress.
I heard the chirping birds mixed with the rumble of his engine as we drove through the tree-lined streets of Paradise Grove.
And the Ducati purred within the luxury of the town like it belonged, so smooth and sleek yet black and built like a threat, humming with power and silence and control.
Jameson was like the bike he owned. He didn’t speak. Just rode. In silence, in control, in power.
All I could do was hold on to the man who wasn’t supposed to mean anything. To the man driving straight into a syndicate meeting like he owned the damn night.
We cut to the main road, and that’s where more rumbles of engines met us. More men. And we all headed toward what I knew to be the town hall. Where the government was supposed to uphold the law.
Yet, on the side of that building, a garage door raised and as it did, the floor inside opened too. Jameson revved his engine and drove right down into it, straight into a secret tunnel with brick roads that led to parking and sliding glass doors.
This must be where the laws were truly made.
We parked beside a matte black McLaren that had two men standing next to it, one of whom I knew was Callahan. They were smoking cigars while another woman almost half their size stood there glaring at them both.
Jameson killed the engine, and Callahan smiled over at us both. “Look who finally decided to bring her.” His eyes danced with much more mirth than I usually saw in them as he looked toward me.
“So, she with you now?” the guy next to Callahan asked. His gaze was casual enough, but I saw how he assessed every movement I made.
“She’s not with me. She’s mine.”
And just like that, the temperature changed. The air stilled and chilled me to the bone. The men stopped smirking.
We weren’t there as a couple. I knew that. He hadn’t promised me anything.
We were walking into a world where us screwing around didn’t matter. My feelings for him didn’t matter either … only his ownership of me did.
Ownership of everything was apparent throughout the event too. We walked through brick hallways, and I stayed quiet, taking it all in. Jameson didn’t need to introduce me because everyone already knew who I was.
His.