31. Silk
Bones
I t's been three days since my talk with Temper, and impatience is riding me hard. But I'm keeping my cool. Waiting for her, just like I promised. She said she'd contact me first when she's ready. She already gave me more than I ever fucking hoped for. Breathed new life into me. Now I just have to hold steady and not go looking for her like some desperate asshole.
In the meantime, I have to deal with this Italian pain in the ass sitting across from me.
Luca Romano is in my office, arms crossed, expression fucking incredulous, like he can't believe the words that just came out of my mouth. I don't think I've ever seen him speechless before. It's kind of entertaining.
"Remember when I told you that joining my MC is going to be fun for everyone but you?" I lean forward, letting the weight of my words settle. "You don't need to prospect, of course. We've been working together for years. I know you can be loyal. I know you can kill. I know you can do what's necessary. But you went to Temper, did you really think I'd forget that?"
He exhales sharply, jaw locking. I can see it, the way he's trying to figure a way out of this.
"Come on, Bones," he huffs, gesturing wildly. "This is fucking humiliating. I thought you'd punch me, cut off a finger, shoot me in the leg! What the fuck is happening in this club? This is too much. It's beneath you."
I grin. Poor bastard.
He thinks I'd just hurt him and be done with it? Nah. That's too easy.
Temper was right. She probably laughed her ass off when she thought of this. And now, I'm about to have the time of my goddamn life.
"It really isn't beneath me, Luca. I've come to...appreciate the power of humiliation. Sometimes, it's just as good as drawing blood." I let the darkness rise, let it bleed into my voice. "You know, my woman's best friend once said something that really stuck with me: 'The dildo of consequences rarely comes lubed.' "
Luca blinks. "What the fuck?"
I continue, ignoring him.
"You went to my woman. Sure, you didn't say threatening words, but I fucking know you. I know how you can say shit without speaking at all. You scared her. And now the dildo of consequences is coming for you, fucker. Except, it's going to be a paddle."
His eyes narrow. He's getting that deadly calm, but I steamroll over it.
"You want to officially join the club? Then this is what you're going to do: you're going to stand bare-assed in the backyard, while one of the brothers — you can choose which one
— spanks your fucking ass with a spiked paddle. Twenty times. In front of everyone. And then you're in. And we never speak of it again."
I lean back, watching him absorb that information. He's staring at me like he's just realized I'm the devil.
I shrug. "I learned something this past year. Blood, wounds, pain — that's nothing to men like us. We're born into it. We accept it like it's part of us. But humiliation?" I tilt my head, letting the words settle. "That's different. If you go through that and you can still stand proud, still hold your head high, still do your part, mind unbroken — then you're the kind of man I want in my club."
Luca's jaw clenches so hard I think his teeth might crack.
"You should be grateful it's only going to be the brothers there," I add, smirking.
Silence stretches between us.
And then it comes — a long, heavy sigh. Resigned.
"I'll fucking do it, stronzo. If that's what it takes. But I know you're full of shit! This isn't about passing a fucked up test in humiliation. I know you wouldn't have asked this if I hadn't gone to your woman, asshole. You're a vengeful fuck." He looks me dead in the eyes, fire burning in them. "But I'm not buying a fucking Harley." He flicks an invisible piece of lint off his expensive suit, defiant. "I already have a bike. And that's what I'm using."
I grin. "As long as you can keep up with us, you can ride a fucking bicycle for all I care. Good taste can't be forced on anyone."
The next morning, I send my usual text to Temper and start gearing up to deal with club business. Same routine as always. But just as I put my phone down, it buzzes.
I frown. That never happens.
"Dinner at my place. Friday. At seven. I'm making lasagna. :)"
Fuck.
Anticipation slams into me, sharp and bright, but right on its heels comes dread. My mind trips over itself, caught somewhere between ' is this real?' and ' is this a trap?' And then my phone vibrates again.
"The good kind of lasagna! I'm just craving it. No shenanigans, I promise!"
Laughter bursts out of me before I can stop it. Jesus.
Without thinking, I press call.
She picks up immediately. "I'm not trying to poison you this time," she blurts, words coming fast, storming through the receiver. "We can have something else or go somewhere if you'd like. I just like my place more, there's only one restaurant in town and it's not that great."
I chuckle, stopping her before she spirals. "Breathe, baby."
Silence. A small inhale.
"I'll eat anything you make," I murmur. "I'll be there Friday. Do you need me to bring something?"
"No, just yourself." There's a pause, a hesitation. "I thought it would be a good setting to talk some more." Another beat. Then, softer, "You know, get to know the people we are now."
Fuck. My chest tightens.
"Yeah," I say, my voice quieter than I intended. "That's a great idea." I take a breath, let it settle. "I can't wait to see you on Friday, my fiery Temper."
She doesn't hang up right away. Neither do I.
Then, finally, "See you, Bones."
Her voice is light when she ends the call.
I stare at my phone, exhaling hard. Just two more days.
It still feels fucking unreal.
By the time the day winds down, I find myself at the makeshift bar in the clubhouse, Luca standing right beside me, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
I grab a shot glass, fill it to the brim, and shove it toward him.
"Welcome to the club, Silk." My voice is all amusement, but the smirk stretching my lips is pure fucking wickedness.
His jaw tics. He snatches the glass from my hand like it personally insulted him, downs the shot in one go, and slams it on the counter. "Fuck you," he mutters, his voice rough, barely above a growl.
I chuckle, pouring myself a shot. "That's not a very brotherly attitude, Romano."
"Brotherly would've been punching me, stabbing me, not—" He grits his teeth, exhales hard, and glares at nothing in particular.
"Not what?" I prod, grinning.
He looks at me, murder in his eyes. "Not that. "
I grin wider. "The that was necessary."
He mutters something in Italian, grabs the bottle, and pours himself another shot.
This asshole is more biker than he realizes. He'll fit right in.
Temper
My fiery Temper, I love how determined you always are. I don't think there is a single obstacle in this world that would be able to withstand you if you put your mind to it.
I smile, my fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. I didn't realize how much I actually missed this. I was waiting for this. The first message since I unblocked his number. Since our talk.
I won't admit it out loud, but this? This is a damn good way to start the day. Like those people who do affirmations in the mirror every morning, hyping themselves up before stepping out into the world. Except I don't need a mirror.
I've got Bones sending mine straight to my phone.
My fiery Temper, I love the way you bite your bottom lip when you're concentrating. It drives me insane. I used to watch you do it while lining up a shot at the pool table, and all I could think about was stealing that lip for myself.
Okay, lover boy. That one was dangerously close to outright flirting. Sneaky.
And now all I can think about is how his muscles bunched under his shirt when he was lining up his damn shot at that pool table.
Damn!
My fiery Temper, I love that you have an emergency stash of chocolate hidden in three different places at all times. You think no one knows, but I do. And if you ever run out, I'll always have some ready for you.
Joke's on you, Bones! I have five hiding places for my emergency chocolate now!
Friday creeps up on me before I know it. And now that it's here, I'm a mess.
Is this a date? It kind of is, isn't it? Fuck, it's a date!
No reason to panic. Deep breaths. I wanted to see him. I made this choice. And if I strip away all the overthinking, it felt good to tell him everything about my past. I don't know why, and maybe I'm a little ashamed because of our history, but he's the only one I've shared all of this with who managed to keep me grounded. Who didn't let me drown in the memories.
When I told Ria, I lost two whole days to emotional wreckage before I could breathe properly again. But with Bones? It didn't feel like that.
I don't understand it. And it's fucking with my mind.
I never thought this was hiding under all the anger I had for him.
But I do feel like I'm on the right path. Like I'm making the right choices.
And that's what matters.
The knock at the door startles me out of my spiraling thoughts. He's here.
He's fucking here.
I smooth my dress down, take a deep breath, and open the door.
Then, I go completely stupid because he's smiling.
Not the sharp smirk I've seen on him before. Not the guilty, hesitant half-smiles. A real fucking smile. The easy one he used to wear before everything fell apart.
I don't move. Don't breathe. It's been almost five years since I've seen him smile like this.
He notices my staring and quirks an eyebrow, but I shake myself out of it, forcing my own smile into place.
"Hey, come in," I say, stepping back, giving him room. "You're right on time."
"I'd never be late coming to you, baby." He steps inside, handing me a small box wrapped in a delicate blue ribbon. "This is for you."
I take it, confused for only a second before realization slams into me. Chocolate-covered plums. My stomach clenches. Not in a bad way. I lift the box, taking in the tiny blue flower attached to the ribbon. Just like the one he gave me months ago.
My heart skips a beat.
Settle down, heart. You're going too fucking fast!
"It just got delivered this morning. Thought you'd appreciate it more than just flowers," he says, watching me carefully.
I glance up at him, and the look on his face does something strange to my chest.
"You thought right. Thank you," I say, softer than I intend.
I move toward the kitchen, feeling him follow close behind. It's easy, too easy. Like he's always belonged here. I shake the thought off. Focus, Temper.
"The food is ready. Just have to set the table," I tell him over my shoulder.
He holds up a bottle, smirking. "I brought wine. Thought you'd like it."
I turn fully and freeze.
It's the same bottle. The same exact wine he brought last time.
My eyes narrow. "I feel like we're recreating that night."
"Nah, baby," he murmurs, holding my gaze. "We're making new memories."
Damn.
I chuckle, shaking my head, and before I can even think of a comeback, he's already opening the right drawer for the bottle opener.
I blink. "You remember where I keep my opener?"
He doesn't even glance up as he starts looking through the mess inside. "Of course. I remember everything about you."
His words are so matter-of-fact that they shouldn't affect me.
But they do.
I roll my eyes to cover the way my pulse pounds just a little harder. "Damn, I almost forgot how cheesy you can get."
He finally looks up, one brow raised. "Don't lie. You like it."
I scoff, his smug expression daring me to deny it.
"Do you want any?" he asks, holding up the unopened bottle.
"Yes," I say, walking to the fridge. "I have beer for you. I know you don't really like wine."
"Depends on what I'm drinking it with."
Something about the way he says it, like he's not just talking about the wine, makes me too aware of how small my kitchen suddenly feels.
I take a deep breath and grab the beer. It's fine. It's just dinner.
Just two people. Figuring things out.
We settle at the table, and after the first bite, I hear him groan.
"I don't know how you do it, but your food just gets better and better every fucking time."
I chuckle, twirling my fork. "Mama taught me a lot of tips and tricks during our virtual sessions. She was really great at sharing cooking secrets with me."
He watches me with a soft smile, something dangerously warm in his expression. "Her and Pops will be back in a few days. She wants to throw a" — he pauses to make air quotes and sigh — " 'Winter Wonderland Barbecue' at the clubhouse on Saturday. She called me today with a huge fucking list of things she needs for it. She'll probably reach out to see if you'd like to come. Or just show up at your door." He smirks. "But I wanted to tell you myself. In case you were interested. No pressure."
I rest my chin on my hand, considering. "I think I'd like to come. But I'd like to bring Ria with me." My voice lowers a little. "I can't promise, though. I might change my mind." I blow a quiet, frustrated breath. "I still have some bad days that I have to work through sometimes. They're much rarer now, but I never know when one might come."
His expression shifts, quiet understanding settling into his features. "I get it, Temper. That's to be expected." His voice is softer, but then, suddenly, it's not. It's hard. Sharp. "You can bring Ria. You can bring anyone you'd like." He pauses, jaw tightening. "Except Griffin. Absolutely no Griffin at the clubhouse."
I burst out laughing. "You're fucking terrible." I shake my head, amused as hell. "Griffin is just a friend. Has been just a friend for a very long time now." I hold his gaze, teasing.
"Really?" His grip tightens on his beer bottle, disbelief written all over his face. "Fucking really?"
"Yeah. Why?" I tilt my head, suddenly curious. "Why did you think differently?"
His expression slams shut, like a goddamn vault. "No reason."
Liar.
I narrow my eyes at him. "There is one. You just don't want to say it."
He dodges my stare, takes a long drink from his beer, and then smooth as hell, changes the subject.
"So, I've been meaning to ask you..." He leans back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement. "Why did you choose this name, Temper? I mean, I can figure out the Bones connection, but still... it seems a strange choice. Risky, too."
I pause, a small smile pulling at my lips. Remembering. I can laugh about it now, not so much just a few months ago.
"Out of anger," I admit. "There was this whisper in my mind, telling me to make sure I never forget. To find a way to always remember, to keep the anger burning." I shake my head on a quiet laugh. "And also, as a 'fuck you' to you." My smile softens. "But I've come to love this name. It's become a part of me."
We finish eating, the conversation easy, small talk filling the spaces between us. It's comfortable. Familiar.
It makes me remember us.
The way we used to be. The way we flowed together, always in sync, almost like we were reading each other's minds.
"Do you want to take our drinks to the back porch? It's cold, but I have heater lamps. And the mountain air is amazing right now," I ask after we finish dinner, my voice casual.
He smirks, something wicked flashing in his eyes. "Sure. I can handle the cold."
I narrow my eyes at him, suspicious, but grab my glass and step outside. I hear his boots behind me, following.
The air is crisp, the night silent except for the distant rustling of trees. Out here, in the stillness, everything feels heavier. More real.
We settle onto the bench, side by side. I grab one of the thick blankets I keep out here for warmth and hold it out to him.
"I'm good, baby." His voice is deep, amused, but his eyes stay trained on the darkness ahead. Then, teasing, mocking, he speaks.
"So... there was this thief in my room." He pauses like he's thinking real hard, his brows pinched together. "And she stole something. A cut. Do you happen to know if it ended up shredded or burned? I just keep wondering..."
I purse my lips, eyebrows shooting all the way up, feigning outrage. "Really? A thief? In your room? That's a serious security breach for the clubhouse, Bones. You should look into it." I take a slow sip of wine, barely managing to suppress my smirk.
His laughter rumbles low in his chest before his arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I don't fight it. It's warm. Safe. A little too right. Or maybe I'm just cold, and his body heat is the logical choice. Yeah, that's it. A little white lie never hurt anyone.
We sit like that for a while, comfortable silence stretching between us. But, as always, my curiosity wins.
I clear my throat. "Bones." I turn to him, meeting his eyes. "How did you get Jinx? I need to fucking know. It's been driving me insane."
His lips curve slightly, something dark playing in his expression. "It was planned from the start. In case he didn't get the death sentence." He exhales, glancing up at the night sky, gathering his thoughts. "I didn't want him to live, so I planned for his eventual death. He got the death sentence at his first trial, so the plan got put on the back burner. But since he still had the right to appeal, I kept it in motion, waiting for the moment the system fucked up." He looks back at me. "It wasn't a surprise when it did."
I keep my eyes locked on him, hanging onto every word.
"I dug up info on the warden at his prison. Lucky me, the fucker had a gambling problem. I buried him in so much debt at one of our rings he wouldn't be able to pay it off in a hundred lifetimes. He knew he was owned. Kept him like that all these years, waiting to call in the debt. And when Jinx got his retrial? That was the moment."
He leans back, stretching his legs out like he's telling a casual fucking bedtime story.
"We had an inmate — lifer — go at him inside. Beat the shit out of him. Just enough. The guy's family got a hefty sum, of course. And all the warden had to do next was make sure Jinx was taken to the hospital instead of treated in-house. Easier access, fewer cameras, more doors. Ghost and Mindfuck handled the extraction." He shrugs. Like it was nothing. Like it was just business as usual. "And that's that."
I stare at him. Blink once. Twice.
"Your mind is fucking terrifying." My voice is flat. Why is this so fucking hot?
He smirks. That goddamn smirk. "Baby, you're the one who gave me The Art of War and insisted I read it. This is your fault."
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. "I should have known you'd take that shit too seriously."
He pulls me closer, and I don't move away.
I check myself. Check my feelings.
Dr. Monroe told me to do that. To listen to what I feel, not what I fear. She said I have control over my actions, but if I decide to take a step toward Bones, I need to check myself for any negative feelings around him. To make sure I don't lose all the progress I've made.
I reach inside myself. Look for the anger. The resentment.
Nothing.
Nothing bad, at least. Just warmth. Comfort.
And want.
Fuck. I'm in so much trouble.