Chapter 25 - Camile
CAMILE
Great. Now Ghost is talking to me the same way Jack does, as if I’m an idiot. They demand I stay here yet treat me like an inconvenience. Only Rook seems to care that I lost my father and my mom and brother are hiding. Nobody but Rook has offered me even the slightest hint of friendship.
Well, Ace did, but he did that selfishly for his own ends. The man might have a soft heart in some ways, the way he looks after the kittens says as much, but he’s a manwhore, so from now on he’s in my bad books.
With tears pricking at my eyes, I turn back inside and go take a shower. I should try to get some more sleep as I had very little, but I’m too wired.
In the bathroom, I pause at the mirror and really look at myself. God, I look exhausted and upset… and fuck these men for adding to all that stress.
What is it my abuela used to say? Something about when life gives you lemons…
make lemonade. Staring at my wan reflection, I decide enough.
If I’ve got to stay here, I’m at least going to take advantage of having a whole-ass house to myself, and some free time without classes.
I’m going to have a spa morning and treat myself.
Three hours later, my reflection is entirely different.
I did thirty minutes of Pilates, wearing a face mask—and thank God Vani grabbed my entire toiletry bag—before taking a long shower, with a body scrub, where I also deep conditioned my hair and did a lymphatic drainage massage.
I finished that off with a mani-pedi, painting my oval nails a fetching shade of peach that makes me look summery.
One thing I didn’t pack was a blow dryer, but there’s a spare hairdryer in a drawer in the vanity.
With that, and the food that was here, either someone put all this in for me, doubtful, or this place is kept free to use as a guest house.
Someone must have gotten the food, though, because there’s no way they keep it stocked with milk and other basics on the regular. I wonder who did it.
After I’ve given myself the blow dry, using my volumizing spray, I sit down at the vanity and create subtle, daytime makeup, which makes me glow.
I’m covered in vanilla-scented body lotion, and I spritz on a strawberry and marshmallow-scented body spray. What with the coconut I use in my hair, I bet I smell like dessert.
Vani wasn’t lying when she’d said she grabbed a ton of my stuff in one go, there’s half my wardrobe here, which means I have plenty to choose from.
Once I’m dressed in a summery denim dress, I smile at myself in the mirror.
I don’t look half bad, if I say so myself.
Heels aren’t something I wear in the day, although I still have the pair from my disastrous date, so I put on a pair of cute sneakers and I’m ready.
My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t eaten a damn thing and it’s almost lunchtime.
I think I’ll head to the canteen and grab something to bring back to my place.
After being alone in the quiet house for the morning, the noise in the canteen is deafening. Men are laughing and shouting across tables to one another, and the clang of cutlery and scrape of chairs echo in the sparsely decorated space. There are no soft carpets in here to absorb the racket.
Standing in line, I keep my gaze down, not wanting to attract any attention and cause any new trouble for myself. But someone slides into the line behind me, and a familiar voice says, “Hey there.”
I turn to smile at Rook. “Hey yourself.”
“What ya doing?” he asks, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Grabbing some lunch, but I’m not sure what to get.”
“The pie is good,” he says.
“That’s dessert, not lunch.”
He shrugs. “You can eat pie for lunch some days.”
“I think I’ll get a sandwich and try to be a bit healthier.”
A lot of the bikers are piling their plates with potatoes, mac and cheese, and big hunks of meat. That kind of food is way too heavy for me, especially at this time of day.
There aren’t many women in the place, except for the ones serving, and it makes me realize that this place is just as archaic when it comes to the roles of women as it is in the mafia.
Perhaps the only way for me to be free is to run and find a new life for myself, away from all these old school men with their sexist ways.
“Where are all the women?” I ask Rook.
He blinks in surprise. “Er, well, I mean, a lot of them are at work.”
“Work? They’re allowed off the compound?”
A soft laugh escapes him. “It’s not a prison, Camile.”
Huh, maybe not for them, but for me, it is.
“What work do they do?”
“All kinds. Some of them work here, like the ol’ ladies who serve up food. But a lot have jobs outside that they wanted to keep. One of them works as a teacher, there are a couple of nurses, one lady works in a flower shop, and she loves it, so God help her man if he tried to stop her.”
“Do any of the men work outside?”
He nods. “Yep, a few.”
“But… a lot of you work in the club. Doing what?”
His soft laugh is accompanied by a head shake. “Can’t go there, Camile, and anyway, I don’t know much. I’m not fully patched in.”
“Why not?”
“Lady, what do you want?”
My question is shut down by one of the women who is serving. She puts her hands on her hips, her head to one side, as she stares at me through hostile, kohl rimmed eyes.
“Um, just a turkey sub, please.” She grabs the sandwich, wrapped loosely in plastic wrap, and passes it to me.
When I’ve chosen a drink, too, and paid, I make my way outside, hyperaware of all the sets of male eyes on me.
Rook jogs to catch up with me. “Want some company for lunch?”
“Yes, sure, that would be nice. I’m heading back to my place, if you want to come?”
The idea of going back to the silent house had filled me with dread. Sure, I could have put the TV on, but it’s not the same as having some company.
More men turn to stare at me as I walk by.
“God, do I look weird or something?” I ask Rook from the side of my mouth.
He chuckles. “You’re not claimed. You don’t have a property of patch, and you’re younger than a lot of the women around here, and very pretty, so you’re going to get attention.” He laughs. “Good thing you’re not coming to the party at the clubhouse tonight.”
“What party?”
He swallows, his gaze darting away as though he’s realized he shouldn’t have said anything. “Nothing.”
“Rook,” I say warningly.
“It’s just a thing. One of the men is having his thirtieth birthday party, and they have lined up some fun for him. Got a few of the bar crawling girls from town to come in and have some drinks with us. Ghost hates these kinds of nights, as he has his hands full. Things can get wild.”
I’m glad I won’t be there. “Are you going?”
Rook shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll probably show up.”
“So will Jack be there, too?”
“He’ll swing by. He normally does. It’s kind of expected for the Prez to show his face.”
I’m guessing Ace will most likely be there, too, and Ghost. I imagine them all drinking, with the bar girls grinding all over them, flashing their tits in their faces, and experience a surprising stab of jealousy.
I have no right to be jealous. I don’t have a claim on any of these men, just like they have no claim on me.
But it still breaks my heart a little to think of Jack flirting with some sexy girl, and even for Ace to do the same.
I wish I was the type of person who could have that kind of connection with someone and move on with it meaning nothing, but my heart is far too soft and open for that.
We pass by two much older men, and even they stare.
“What about the girls you call sweetbutts?” I ask Rook. “Where are they? How come they don’t get all the crap I am?”
“A lot of them don’t come around until night, and many of them are a bit older than you, and they’re different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know, Camile. You’re… classy, I suppose.”
His words don’t sit right with me, and I immediately get defensive on behalf of the other women. “Are you saying those women aren’t classy? That you all view them as trash?”
“No. That’s not it. You’re different, though. How you dress, your hair. You stand out. Plus you’re new, so they’re curious.”
As we pass by one of the outbuildings with a few men inside tinkering with bikes, a low wolf whistle chases after me.
I sigh and hurry to the house, wanting to be inside.
Rook is with me now, but he’ll be gone later, and I’m beginning to understand a little more why Jack wanted guards on my door.
“Rook?”
The deep voice behind us has me freezing, my keys in the door. Right beside me, Rook also freezes, his shoulders tensing. His nose wrinkles a little, and he almost shrinks, as though wishing he could vanish.
“Yes, Prez?”
“Fuck off. Go find something useful to do.”
Rook shoots me a regretful glance but says nothing.
I don’t turn around as Rook shuffles off.
Jack’s scent wraps around me, and his heat at my back almost makes me fumble the keys, but I get the door open and am inside without incident.
Thank God, because I look enough of a fool around this man as it is.
I’m aware of Jack following me in, but I try not to make a big deal of it.
Not wanting to show my trepidation, I place my sandwich on the counter in the kitchen and turn to face him.
I place my hands on my hips and cock my head. “What do you want? I’m about to eat lunch.”
“Why are you sniffing around Rook now?”
I blink. “What?”
He gives a cold laugh. “Don’t tell me I just hallucinated him about to come into this place, and don’t lie to me and try to make out he wasn’t here last night.”
“We ate together,” I snap. “That’s all.”
His eyes narrow. “Ate like how Ace ate with you… or should I say how Ace ate you?”
My cheeks burn. What the fuck is wrong with this man?
“No!” I force myself to be strong. “But even if I did let Rook go down on me last night—which I didn’t—it still wouldn’t be any of your business. I’m a grown woman, and I get to do whatever, and whoever, I want.”
He shakes his head. “Not when it comes to my club.”
I roll my eyes and mimic him in an annoyingly high voice. “Not when it comes to my club.”
I almost clamp my hand over my mouth. I don’t know where that came from.
He glares at me with his stormy colored eyes, and, despite my fear of him, a little zing of a thrill goes through me. Just how far could I push him? He’s pissing me off, but hell, that can go two ways.
I jut out my hip and pout, bracing myself for his retort.
“Baby-girl,” he growls. “Don’t fucking push me.”
“Or what? You going to give me a spanking?”
I don’t think it’s my imagination when his eyes light up at my suggestion.
He takes a step closer, and I swear I feel the air between us crackle.
His voice is a low rumble. “If you think that would be a punishment, you should think again.”
I raise my chin. “Then what is your idea of a punishment? I’m guessing it’s being stuck here, all alone, and getting a scolding every time I so much as talk to another man.”
“It’s not a scolding, it’s a warning. I just don’t want you to become some goddamned bike that all my men have ridden.”
“Why? Because you turned down your chance to ride me when it was offered?”
I hold his gaze, even though I feel like I’m on fire.
“You’re my daughter’s friend. Do you have any idea how inappropriate that would be?”
I give a cold laugh and gesture around. “Since when have men like you ever cared about being inappropriate?”
He clenches his jaw. “Well, I fucking care. If I didn’t, don’t you think I would have—”
He cuts himself off, and I find myself filling in the rest of his sentence.
“—fucked me already?” I say.
His gaze shifts away, and a little pulse of power inside me makes itself known.
God, even after all this bullshit, I still want him.
I picture myself throwing myself at him, him lifting me onto the counter while I wrap my thighs around his hips and crush my mouth to his.
I want to feel his beard against my skin, and taste his tongue, and shove my hand down his jeans and feel how big his cock is.
I want to stroke him and hear him moan. My desire for him is overwhelming.
“Camile…” he warns.
“Maybe I want you to,” I say in a breathy whisper.
He pauses, like a predatory animal right before it’s about to pounce and make it’s kill, and I hold my breath, my heart hammering.
He’s holding himself back; I sense it with every ounce of my being.
I will him to just give in, to let himself go.
He can take my virginity right here on the kitchen counter, and I will die happy.
But then I see the moment where he gets hold of himself again, and anger takes over.
“Are you going to fuck every member of this MC? I never took you for a slut, Camile. If you wanted to be a sweetbutt, it could be arranged. Hell, we have a prospect who needs to fuck a girl tomorrow night in front of members in order to earn some wings, so you could be useful.”
The words are said with malice, condescension and disrespect dripping from his tone, and I’m suddenly so angry at him, it hurts.
“Fuck you, Jack.”
“All I asked you to do is keep your head down, stop causing trouble with my men, but you seem determined to become the club hoe.”
Oh, he did not.
“You’re one to talk,” I throw back at him. “I bet you’re fucking a different woman every night. You sexist pig.”
He’s on me in three strides, big arms bracketing me against the counter. I let out a little squeak of shock.
“Baby-girl, I’ve not fucked anyone in the longest time.
I lost my wife, and I respected her far too much to whore around after her death, even when I’m offered sweet, young pussy like yours.
So, show some goddamn respect for yourself, and some manners when you’re on my territory, being kept safe by my men. ”
There’s real pain in his voice when he talks about his wife, and for a moment I almost soften, but then I recall all the hurtful things he’s said to me.
“Maybe it would do you good to work out some of your sexual frustration.” I lift my gaze to his. “Might remove that stick from up your ass.”
I can’t believe I’ve said that. Oh, shit.
His eyes narrow, and he watches me for a long beat, just the two of us breathing in each other’s air. Then he pushes away from me and stalks out of the room.
Before he reaches the front door, he calls back to me, “Stay inside and stop riling my men up. I don’t want you going through them all. Stop acting like a slut.”
The door slams behind him, and I’m so angry I don’t know what to do with myself. I ball my hands into fists and do as Ghost told me. I scream. Not in sorrow this time. But in rage.
I’m going to show that motherfucker. Why let my mani-pedi and newly blow-dried hair go to waste? He didn’t even notice that I looked nice. The bastard. I’m going to go to the clubhouse tonight and flirt up a storm.
I know Ghost and Rook won’t let anyone touch me, if I don’t want them to, but I want to be there to piss Jack off.