Chapter 28
?
— Indira —
The box sat on my coffee table like a question I was finally ready to answer.
One week. One week since I’d woken up in Jacob’s guest room, disoriented but fully rested, to find the house quiet and dawn light filtering through unfamiliar curtains.
I’d found him on the front porch, sitting on the steps like he’d been there all night—and maybe he had.
When he’d seen me, his whole body had relaxed.
It’s over, he’d said. The Wolves. There was a coup. New leadership. They’re backing off.
Then he’d asked me to stay.
I hadn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because everything had happened so fast—the threat, the truth about gun running, waking up in his house with my world completely upsidedown.
I’d told him I wanted him, that I believed in what we were building, but I needed time to process.
To figure out what this new reality meant for us.
He’d let me go without argument. Just nodded, said he understood, and asked if he could call me later.
He had. Every day. We’d found our way back to each other and I wasn’t letting that go.
We had dinner at his place one night, him showing up at mine with takeout the next.
Still no sex. I wasn’t quite ready for that level of vulnerability yet, and he never pushed.
Just meals and conversations and quiet evenings that felt like the foundation of something permanent.
He’d become part of my routine so naturally that I couldn’t remember what my nights had looked like without him.
I picked the box up for the hundredth time, running my fingers over the smooth lettering Leather & Lace. Inside were two versions of the same commitment.
The question was: who did I want to be?
My phone buzzed with a text from Jacob: At the clubhouse dealing with some supply issues. Might run late. Start dinner without me.
I’ll wait, I texted back. Handle your business.
Thank you for understanding. I love you.
Love you too.
I set the phone down and stared at the box again. Three simple words that meant everything. He loved me. I loved him. So why was I still hesitating?
Fear. Not just the old fear—the memory of walking into his office over a year ago and having my world destroyed in an instant—but new fear too. The knowledge of what his world really involved. Gun running. A rival MC who’d taken photos of me, who’d threatened to use me as leverage.
But Jacob had proven something during that crisis. When forced to choose between club business and honesty with me, he’d chosen me. That wasn’t the man who’d betrayed me. That was someone new.
I opened the box and lifted out both cuts, laying them side by side on my kitchen table.
The past versus the future.
Crystal in the parking lot came to mind—trying to use my past pain against me. How Jacob had stepped back and let me handle it, trusting me to fight my own battles. The way his brothers had looked at me afterward—not with pity or dismissal, but with respect.
The crisis that followed. His first instinct had been to protect me through secrecy, and I’d called him on it. I’d set a boundary, demanded space, watched him struggle between the club and his promise to me.
The night he’d brought me dinner and sat quietly while I worked, supporting me without trying to control me. How he remembered I hated onions and brought me coffee the way I liked it and asked about my campaigns like they mattered to him.
The man who’d wired sixty thousand dollars to a hospital for my father’s surgery without hesitation or conditions. Who’d called every day during that crisis not to insert himself into the situation, but to check if I or my family needed anything.
I picked up the new cut and held it up to my chest in front of the hallway mirror.
It looked right. It felt right.
More than that, it felt like a choice I was making from strength rather than fear.
I slipped it on over my white blouse, adjusting the leather until it sat perfectly across my shoulders.
In the mirror, I looked like a woman who belonged exactly where she was.
Grabbing my keys and purse, I headed for the door. It was time to surprise the man I loved.
The Venom Riders clubhouse parking lot was busier than I expected. I was scanning for a spot when something caught my eye—a small, elegant sign next to the space marked “PREZ.”
“INDIRA.”
He’d had a parking space made for me. Not “First Lady” or “Dutch’s Old Lady” - just my name, acknowledging that I had a place here in my own right.
I walked through the front door and into the main room, where several brothers were scattered around playing pool and nursing beers. The conversation died the moment they saw me.
More specifically, the moment they saw what I was wearing.
“Holy shit,” I heard Handful whisper. “Is that...?”
“Dutch’s cut,” Holden finished, his voice filled with something that might have been awe.
I straightened my shoulders and walked further into the room, feeling every eye on me. “Where is he?”
“Office,” Glitch said, not taking his eyes off the cut. “Indira, does he know you’re...?”
“No. It’s a surprise.”
The brothers murmured their approval, and I heard someone call out, “Welcome to the family.”
I smiled, feeling the weight of acceptance settle around me like the leather on my shoulders.
I made my way through the room toward the back hallway, aware of the whispered conversations starting up behind me.
Dutch’s office door was open, and I could see him bent over paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a smile.
“Hey, beautiful. I thought you were making dinner.”
“Change of plans.” I stepped into his office and closed the door behind me.
That’s when he saw the cut.
He went completely still, his eyes moving from my face to the leather across my shoulders and back again. “Indira...”
“I made my choice,” I said simply.
He stood slowly, like he was afraid sudden movement might make me disappear. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I moved closer to his new desk. “I’m sure about you, about us, about what we’re building together. Even knowing everything I know now.”
“You chose the new one.” His voice was rough with emotion.
“I chose the man you’ve become.”
He came around the desk and stopped just inches away, his hands hovering near my shoulders like he was afraid to touch me. “May I...?”
“You may.”
His fingers traced the edges of the cut with reverence. “You look incredible. Like you were always meant to wear my cut.”
“Your cut, my choice,” I said. “That’s what makes us work.”
“Everything’s different this time.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I love you, Indira. More than I thought it was possible to love someone.”
“I love you too.” I glanced at the desk, then back at him. “I want you to fuck me on this desk.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting that particular declaration. “What?”
“This desk.” I moved past him and placed my hands on the surface. “The first real memory I want in your new office. In your new life. Something that belongs to us.”
Something shifted in his expression—hunger replacing tenderness, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “Indira...”
“I want you to fuck me on this desk.” I started unbuttoning my blouse. “Our fresh start deserves a proper christening, don’t you think?”
He moved toward me like a man in a trance. “Are you sure?”
“I’m wearing your cut, aren’t I?”
He crossed to the door in two strides and locked it. The click echoed in the silence.
“The door,” I said softly, remembering what I’d thrown in Crystal’s face. He didn’t even bother to lock it.
“No one sees you but me.” His voice was rough as he came back to me. “Ever.”
Then his mouth crashed down on mine, desperate and hungry. I kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring a year’s worth of separation and rebuilding and hope into the connection between us.
His hands found my waist, pulling me against him as the kiss deepened.
I breathed him in—sandalwood and leather and something underneath that was just him, familiar and intoxicating.
I could feel him hard against my stomach, feel the tension in his body as he held himself in check.
Waiting for my lead. Letting me set the pace.
I finished unbuttoning my blouse and let it fall open, revealing the black lace bra I’d worn underneath. His breath caught.
“Jesus, Indira.” His voice was reverent as his eyes traveled over me. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He traced his fingers along the edge of the lace, barely touching, making my skin prickle with anticipation. Then he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the curve of my breast, his tongue tracing the same path his fingers had taken.
I gasped, my hands finding his hair, pulling him closer. It had been so long—months of wanting him, of remembering how good we’d been together, of denying myself this because I wasn’t ready to be this vulnerable again.
But I was ready now. More than ready.
“Jacob.” His name came out breathless. “I need you.”
His mouth found mine as his hands worked at my jeans, sliding them down my hips while I fumbled with his belt.
He lifted me onto his desk in one smooth motion, scattering papers and knocking a pen holder to the floor. The wood was cool and smooth against the backs of my thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands.
“Wait.” He pulled back, his chest heaving. “I want to look at you.”
He stepped back just far enough to take me in—sitting on his desk in nothing but my bra and panties. The cut lay beside me where I’d set it when I shrugged off my blouse.
“Take off your bra,” he said, his voice low. “Then put the cut back on.”
I held his gaze as I reached back and unhooked the clasp, letting the lace fall away. Then I slipped the leather over my bare shoulders, feeling it settle against my skin.