Chapter 24 Nic
TWENTY-FOUR
NIC
It’s still dark when I wake up. There’s a slither of light cutting through a gap in the curtain, casting a strange glow over the room where it touches.
For a brief second, there’s no Morozov, no club to defend, no danger to Keeley or my family.
The clubhouse is quiet in a way it rarely is these days, especially not with everyone under one roof.
I can’t even hear Theo or Seren from down the hall.
The only sound is Keeley’s soft breaths against my chest.
I glance down at her and feel a peace I didn’t know existed before her. That constant war in my head pauses, and every fear I’ve been chewing over takes a seat briefly.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here, just listening to her slow breaths, but I don’t want morning to creep in and steal this so I stay still, wishing the sun wouldn’t rise so we can stay in this moment.
Slowly, I trail my fingers along her spine in measured circles and soak in the warmth of her skin while she lays boneless against me.
It’s only been a short time of building this routine, but it feels like we’ve lived a hundred mornings with her draped over me, claiming every inch of space around me.
As usual, her legs are tangled with mine. She’s still scared I’ll sneak away while she sleeps.
Not a chance.
If she knew the way I feel about her, she’d never doubt it, but Keeley’s lived a life unsure whether she was wanted in it. That kind of wound isn’t one that just heals.
So I’ll keep turning up, keep showing her that all I want is her. Especially after last night.
The smug little kick of my lips is swallowed by the shadows of the room, but my body still remembers every second of how she felt and tasted when I licked her cunt until she was too tired to think or move.
I’d been dreaming about it all day. My face buried between her legs, those small cries she tries to muffle even though I want to hear them.
While I was burning Morozov’s shitty empire into ashes, the only thought in my head was Keeley.
I’ve branded that vision of her clutching the sheets beneath her while she writhed through her orgasm into my brain.
Fucking perfection.
Everything about her is.
My eyes drift shut, my muscles unlocking, and my breaths slow to match hers.
The first few weeks as president have been a fucking nightmare.
That was why I didn’t want the patch when Ravage first offered it to me.
But I also knew after the shit with Crank and Grub—now Blade—I wouldn’t trust anyone else to hold that gavel.
Especially not now. Not when I have Keeley.
My life has moulded around her in such a short time, and I don’t even care. I’d rearrange the fabric of the fucking universe if she needed it.
And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Morozov is at the top of my fucking to-do list today and every day until he stops being a threat to Keeley.
I have to admit, my campaign against Morozov has been ruthless, even by my usual standards. I’ve torched his businesses, sabotaged his supply chains, and made him the most undesirable person on the planet to do business with.
Even with all of that, it’s not enough. It’ll never be, not while he’s still breathing.
Morozov’ll hit back. He’ll have to. He can’t afford to look weak, but I’m not sure where he’ll hit or when. He’s been too quiet over the last few days. He has money and influence—the kind bought over canapés and champagne—which means I need to expect the unexpected.
It also means I can’t take my boot off his neck.
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it on the nightstand, careful not to jostle Keeley. There’s a message from Kane Fraser.
KANE: Your Russian problem is dealt with.
KANE: You’re welcome.
My phone buzzes before I can reply. A notification comes through. I open it and frown. It’s for an account I don’t recognise and when I click into it, my eyes nearly fall out of my head.
I read the number once. Then again, blinking at the screen.
That fucking mad bastard.
I’ve never seen that many numbers in my entire life. The club does well, but—what the fuck? Not that well. What the hell am I meant to do with that much money? I don’t even know if I can launder that amount in ten lifetimes, let alone the one I have.
I’m already mentally washing it through the numerous club businesses when my phone buzzes again.
Distracted because, yeah, I just got gifted enough money to rival a small country, I open my message app.
KANE: Don’t spend it all at once.
Is he fucking joking? I couldn’t spend it in ten lifetimes, let alone at once. I’m mentally calculating how to divide some of it between my brothers when another message comes through.
ME: That’s all his accounts?
KANE: Don’t insult me.
Fuck me. Fraser did what I couldn’t in just a few days. I don’t even want to know how he found every single one of Morozov’s accounts and drained them dry. It doesn’t matter.
No money means that cunt has no way of coming at the club or Keeley. And that’s all I care about. My phone buzzes again.
KANE: They were buried. Deeply.
KANE: Not deep enough though.
KANE: It was easy.
KANE: Too easy.
KANE: He should be embarrassed.
He texts like a fucking psychopath. Why couldn’t that all be one fucking message? The dots appear again and I brace, wondering what the fuck is coming next.
KANE: I took ten for my trouble.
KANE: Call it a processing a fee.
KANE: Elena wants to go to Rome.
I blink then smirk. Fucker.
I should care that he skimmed ten million off the total, but I don’t. The money doesn’t matter, and I got an eye-watering amount anyway, even with his processing fee.
The only reason I wanted Morozov’s accounts was to cut him off. Without money, he’s just a man in an overpriced suit. He can’t buy what I have. Never will. I don’t need money. I have loyalty that bleeds for me, and that ain’t paid for with cash. It’s earned with trust and respect.
Men like Morozov never understand that.
Morozov is about to have a really shit day. Prick.
ME: Didn’t know I was so generous.
KANE: Neither did I.
KANE: No more favours, Nic.
Keeley stirs, letting out a sleepy grunt that makes my lips kick into a smile. I clear the notifications and slide my phone onto the bedside table just as she peels one eye open.
I watch her as she takes in the room. Dawn is creeping in, making everything feel soft and lighter.
At least until she peers up, squinting at me and then she scowls.
“No,” she grumbles, burying her face in my chest. “Absolutely fucking not. It’s far too early to be awake. What’s wrong with you? Go back to sleep.”
I laugh under my breath. “You are the worst morning person I’ve ever met.”
She lifts her head to glare at me. “This is not morning, Nic. It’s still dark outside.”
My lip brush a kiss into her hair. “Go back to sleep.”
“I knew it. You are a vampire. No one who isn’t undead is awake this early. Did you even sleep?”
She flops dramatically back onto my chest, clinging to me as if she thinks someone’s going to drag her out of the bed.
“Babe, if you keep this shit up I’m gonna have to stop callin’ you sunshine.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her voice is muffled, her breath hot against my chest.
“Too late. I’m already thinkin’ up somethin’ new.”
She sits up, the blanket falling away. “You can’t just take it back. I like it.”
My gaze drops to her tits and the curves of her hips. Whatever smart fucking remark I was about to give back completely derails. Heat slams into my gut, and my throat instantly dries.
I’m not a strong man. My hand moves before my brain can catch up.
I barely graze my thumb over the stiff peak of her nipple before she bats my hand away. “You can’t just grab my boobs when we’re arguing, Nic.”
“You win,” I say automatically. “Whatever you want is yours. Come back here.”
The laughter that bubbles out of her fucking ruins me. “Do you even remember what we were talking about?”
“Don’t care. Just want those pretty tits in my hands.” I drop my voice low. “Wanna make you moan and writhe under touch, sunshine.”
Her lips part, a soft exhale leaving her mouth. “You’re not playing fair,” she complains.
“I don’t give a fuck about bein’ fair. Not when I’m lookin’ at your tits.”
A wicked smile suddenly crosses her face, and she glances down. “These little things have your attention?” Her fingers tease over her nipples, bringing them to hard little buds. “Really?”
Fucking hell. My brain stalls and my cock stirs in my boxers. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, sunshine,” I rasp.
“Who says I’m playing?” She’s breathless now, flushed, and definitely not as cocky as she was a moment ago.
I grab the back of her neck and pull her in for a bruising kiss. Our mouths fuse and it’s messy, but also desperate. She teases, pulling back and tugging at my bottom lip, making me chase her. I follow her every move, finding her mouth again while my hand brushes the underside of her breast.
She’s so warm and soft against my palm as I drag my thumb over her nipple and roll it between my finger and thumb.
Her back arches, pushing her into my hand. I steal her cry as my mouth clashes against hers again, teeth and tongues colliding. Keeley winds her arms around my neck, climbing into my lap like a fucking kitten scaling a tree.
Inject all of this into my fucking veins right now. Her heat, her body against mine, the sounds tearing out of us both.
There’s a loud bang, followed by, “Police! Make yourself known!”
I pull back from Keeley’s mouth so abruptly she lets out a startled squeak. My body reacts before my brain catches up.
It’s a raid. We’re being raided.
What the fuck?
That heat in my stomach a second ago is hot now for a different reason. This ain’t meant to happen. Not with the palms I grease. Even Crank paid his dues to the local force.
I’m off the bed between one breath and the next. Fucking hell. I snatch my t-shirt off the floor, more voices calling out. I’m moving faster than I should be able to, my chest tight.
There’s another bang. Too close. Too fucking close.