Chapter 7
Swag
I keep my fucking cool until we’re back at the clubhouse. But the door hasn’t even finished swinging shut before I’ve got Pretty Boy by the collar, slamming him hard against the wall. His head knocks the wood with a dull thud, and his smirk finally falters.
“What in the fuck was that?” I snarl.
My pulse is a thunderclap in my ears. My hands are fists before I even think about making them. Pretty Boy blinks, caught off guard for maybe a second before his grin creeps back in. Slower this time. Sharper.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, brother,” he drawls. “The part where I invited your girl to a party. Or the part where she said yes?”
“She’s not my girl.”
The words taste like ash and the second they leave my mouth, I regret them. Because I see the shift in Pretty Boy’s eyes. That calculating spark. That opening.
“Oh?” he says slowly. “So she’s fair game then?”
“Pretty Boy,” Talon cuts in, voice low with warning. “Easy.”
Pretty Boy holds up both hands like he’s being reasonable, but his smile is sharp as hell.
“Just trying to clear the air with the Prez,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “So which is it, Swag?”
He leans in a little, voice dropping just enough to make it sting.
“Is she yours or is she fair game?”
“She’s neither,” I growl. “And if you fucking value your life, you’ll leave her the fuck alone.”
Pretty Boy just smiles, lazy and lethal.
“Sure thing, Prez. But it’s not me you have to worry about.” He leans in like he wants me to snap. “It’ll be every other male that catches a glimpse of her.” He whistles low, mocking. “Those braids? Schoolgirl fantasy, right there.”
I don’t realize I’ve moved until Talon’s hand is clamped around my arm. The arm that’s currently pinning Pretty Boy by the neck to the wall.
“Swag,” Talon says, calm but firm. “Walk it off. He’s just trying to get under your skin. Right, Pretty Boy?”
Pretty Boy doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing. I take the hint. Fingers unclench. I back off. He coughs, catching his breath, still smirking like he fucking won.
I sweep my gaze across both of them.
“If she shows up tomorrow,” I say coldly, “no one is to touch her. She doesn’t drink. She doesn’t speak to anyone. Got it?”
Talon nods.
Pretty Boy lifts two fingers in a lazy salute. “Crystal clear, Prez.”
But something tells me that little shit sees right through me and he’s going to make tomorrow night a living hell.
I drag a hand over my face.
“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”
No one follows me as I stomp down the hallway. The door clicks shut behind me, and for the first time all damn day, I exhale. I sink into my chair like it might swallow me whole.
I didn’t know she was back.
I should’ve known.
But time has a way of slipping past when you’re trying hard not to feel it.
My eyes drift to the faded newspaper clipping on the corkboard—the one with Ellie’s smiling face, caught mid-laugh at her event in New York. Four years ago, but it feels like yesterday. Feels like a century.
That’s not true.
I know exactly how much time has passed.
I’ve just gotten good at ignoring it.
But seeing Jo-Leigh today? Fuck. It was like getting sucker punched by something I didn’t know I still carried. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t stop staring at her, trying to reconcile the woman in front of me with the girl I sent away.
She’s not that girl anymore. She’s taller. Stronger. More confident in the way she carries herself even when she’s hurting. She’s not just beautiful. She’s dangerous.
She’s the kind of woman who could bring me to my knees.
And that’s why I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that if she shows up tomorrow she leaves hating me.