Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lacey
The bass from the speakers rumbles through the clubhouse vibrating through my bones, but that’s not what’s making my heart slam against my chest. It’s him. Aero. He does this to me every damn time and it’s infuriating.
I’m not an Ol’ Lady like my best friend Emery or her new club sister Zoey, even though I spend most nights tangled in Aero’s sheets.
He’s never made me promises, never given me a reason to believe I’m anything more than convenient, but the way he watches me like I’m something he wants to claim makes it hard to believe he feels nothing.
If he does want more, he’ll never admit it. Maybe he’s not even capable of it.
I don’t need a label. I don’t want to force him into something he isn’t ready for but this push and pull, this endless limbo, leaves me feeling like I’m nothing more than a bad habit he can’t break. I’m not an Ol’ Lady, but I sure as hell am not a club whore either.
Tearing my gaze from his, I let the music take over, rolling my hips, swaying with the rhythm.
The long skirt of my sundress flutters around my legs as I spin, catching the air.
Dancing has always been my escape, my rebellion, the one place I truly feel free.
But despite the heat of the crowd, despite the laughter, my mind is somewhere else.
My thoughts are constantly floating back to one person, one man.
Dog, Aero’s overprotective mutt circles my legs as I dance and I reach down, scratching behind his ears. He’s been glued to me all night, like always, like I’m the one he’s sworn to protect.
I wonder if Aero notices. If it pisses him off. The thought makes me smirk for a second before it fades, because the truth is, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, all I really want is him.
I remember the first night I saw him at Emery’s club.
He hadn’t been sitting at the stage, flashing cash for a glimpse of bare skin like the rest of the men there.
In fact, I don’t think he even looked in that direction until I stepped onto the stage.
But when he did, that stare of his locked onto me like a brand.
I danced for him that night. He hadn’t even touched me yet, but his presence alone sent my heart into a tailspin.
The way he sat there, unmoving, watching me like he already owned me, it should’ve been a warning.
I should’ve known then that Aero was dangerous.
That whatever this was, it wasn’t going to end well.
I’ve never been good at picking men. Hell, my bad choices come wrapped in leather and ink and Aero with his brooding stare that makes my knees weak is no exception.
His red flags aren’t just waving, they’re snapping in the wind, warning me to run but I can’t make myself walk away because for all the ways he pushes me away, there’s one thing I know for sure.
When Aero looks at me, I feel owned. And God help me, I want to be.
The crowded dance floor is full of laughter and bodies moving together, and for a moment, I try to forget. Forget about him, and about everything that’s been hanging in the air between us for months now. I laugh, a little louder than I intend, as I throw my head back and let the music take over.
A hand brushes against my arm, and I turn, laughter on my lips as I meet the gaze of the man beside me.
I don’t recognize him but that doesn’t surprise me considering the amount of people here tonight.
It’s a party after all, the only real occasion that the clubhouse is open to outsiders but even then not just anyone is allowed in.
If he was deemed dangerous or a threat of any kind he wouldn’t have made it past the gates so I let myself relax.
He’s dressed in dark slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
He doesn’t look like the type to attend a party like this but he’s definitely a good looking man with thick brown hair, dark eyes, and an easy smile like he knows but doesn’t care that he doesn’t fit in here.
He continues to move with the beat but keeps enough distance that it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
“Having fun yet?” He asks, casually tipping his beer bottle to his lips.
I grin. “You mean have I had enough to drink yet?”
My reply makes him smirk. He tilts his head like he’s considering the question and shrugs. “Both.”
I glance at the half-empty bottle in my hand, the crisp bite of the beer still lingering on my tongue. “Almost there.”
“Then can I get you another drink?”
I laugh, rolling my shoulders as I let myself get swept up in the energy of the room.
I can feel Aero watching even though he’s across the room.
His glare is a weight that presses down on me from across the room but I ignore it.
I’m having an innocent conversation, it’s not like the man is flirting with me but even if he was I don’t have anything to feel guilty about, because no matter how many nights I spend wrapped around Aero, no matter how many times he pulls me into his bed, he still won’t let himself commit to me.
“I should probably finish this one first.” I arch a brow, taking a slow sip of my drink.
“I see you brought a bodyguard.” He says, his gaze flicking down to the dog that’s sitting at my feet, tail thumping softly on the floor. I glance down at Dog, who’s sitting with his back straight, ears perked, every inch of him alert. The man's eyes flicker with amusement, “I’m Garett.”
“I’m Lacey.” Tilting my head, I consider my options and the consequences. “I want to dance.”
His lips quirk, “Then let's dance.”
There’s a kind of freedom in this. Dancing, drinking, letting go. For a little while, it almost feels like nothing is missing. Like I’m not still chasing a man who refuses to let himself be caught.
I don’t have to look to know Aero’s eyes are still locked on me.
I feel him watching. The weight of his stare is a familiar thing, a constant presence I should be used to by now but it still gets under my skin, still makes my pulse skip even as I tell myself not to care.
I try to ignore Aero even though I’m secretly hoping that dancing with this man will kick Aero into action but so far nothing.
The door to the clubhouse swings open, and a tall blonde woman struts into the clubhouse like she owns the damn place.
She’s followed by a crew of women all wearing matching black leathers with the Royal Harlots MC patch.
Their presence immediately changes the atmosphere in the room.
It’s like a storm coming in and impossible to ignore.
Aero is already making his way toward them, and I hate how it makes my shoulders straighten before I even realize I’m doing it.
The woman is gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that doesn’t try.
Short blonde hair, loose and messy, with the sides shaved down just enough to look like she doesn’t give a damn.
Every inch of her screams rebellion and freedom, hitting me square in the chest like a punch I wasn’t ready for.
Her blue-grey eyes are sharp, cutting through the room with a defiance that makes me wonder if she’d bite the hand that fed her just for the hell of it.
She probably would. The cuff around her right forearm catches the light, it’s black leather with metal straps and spikes that look like they’d hurt if you got too close.
She doesn’t need makeup to turn heads, and she damn well knows it.
A thick smear of black eyeliner is the only thing she wears, making her eyes stand out even more, like she’s daring you to look a second too long and every man in the room is looking.
She’s got a black leather cut thrown over a white tank top with an anarchy symbol painted across it in bold strokes.
Low-slung blue jeans hang off her exposed hips, held up by a thick black belt with studded holes.
The sting of jealousy hits me before I can stop it.
I push it down, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens, the way my mind screams for Aero to come to me instead but he doesn’t look back.
He doesn’t even hesitate. He walks toward the woman and her crew like he’s got nothing to lose. Maybe he doesn’t, but I do.
I bite my lip, trying to force the thoughts away, but they cling, like a stubborn fog, and turn my attention back to Garett.
He’s no longer dancing. The expression on his face is one of disappointment, matching my own.
I guess that’s my fault, the fact that I’m hung up on Aero no matter how bad it hurts is obvious to everyone.
“I didn’t take you for the type to waste a good night lost in your head,” Garett says, his voice smooth and easy.
I arch a brow, taking a slow sip of my drink before responding. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been a bit distracted.”
His lips quirk. “If you ever get tired of this place, come find me. We could use someone like you at Ritorno Holdings.”
Garett reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek business card. He holds it out between two fingers, his gaze steady on mine. I take the card from his hand and glance at the name printed in crisp, bold lettering, Garett Ricci.
There’s tension behind Garett’s gaze that I didn’t notice until now.
Garett is charming, sure with smooth words and an easy smile but Ritorno Holdings isn’t just some random business.
It’s one I’ve heard whispered around this club.
Maybe that’s why Dog is leaning against my legs a little harder now, his low growl rumbling through his chest like he senses something I don’t.