Chapter Eleven
Bella
I stare into my drink, watching as the condensation runs the length of the glass and collects on the table. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here staring at it. The murmurs of the bar all merging into the distance.
“You going to drink that or just stare at it?” Red jokes, pulling me out of my haze.
“Sorry,” I murmur, picking the glass up and taking a sip. I circle the ice around the glass, watching as it clinks together. Red reaches over the table and grabs my hand.
“You okay?” she asks, her brows knit together, the worry evident on her face.
I nod as I squeeze her hand in silent thanks.
She was mortified when Brandy turned up last night and wouldn’t stop apologising.
I initially thought she must have known, considering she had bumped into her with me at the park, but realisation didn’t hit her where she knew her from ‘til she walked in.
She explained that Brandy was a dancer at the strip club owned by The Broken Iron Demons.
She said the ol’ ladies have no say in the running of anything.
Red had spent most of the day explaining how the entire MC ran and that she wasn’t originally from this world either.
You wouldn’t believe it looking at her now, though.
“What the fuck has Clay done now?” Rochelle asks, placing another round of drinks on the table. I look up at her as I pull my hand away from Red, knocking back the rest of my drink. They share a knowing look.
“Spill it,” Red probes, pushing the fresh whiskey towards me.
I run my hands over my face, sighing. I’ve gone over last night in my head hundreds of times and still can’t understand why Clay would leave.
“It’s nothing.” I offer a weak smile as I pick up the fresh drink.
“Is it?” Red laughs. “You wouldn’t have been staring into that glass for the last forty-five minutes, in your own world, if it was nothing.”
I look around, making sure none of the brothers are within earshot. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m gossiping. “We had . . .” I nod my head, not wanting to say the words out loud. “You know . . .”
Rochelle throws her head back laughing, and I feel my cheeks instantly turn a bright shade of red.
“You fucked,” she says bluntly in a fit of giggles. I cover my face with my hands, mortified. Maybe I should have kept my trap shut.
“Why are you embarrassed? And come to think of it, why are you so down about it? Clay is clearly obsessed with you.”
I slide my hands down my face and look across at them both, it reminds me of my friends from school when we all used to sit at the back of the bike shed, sharing stories of our first encounters. I was always the reserved one, pretending that I had done things just to stay in with the crowd.
“If he was that obsessed with me, he wouldn’t have left me in an empty bed,” I mutter, picking my glass back up, taking a huge gulp, the burn easing the ache in my chest. Red frowns at me.
“He left you alone?” I nod. “There’s got to be a logical explanation,” Rochelle adds. “Trust me when I say, in all the years Clay has been part of this club, he has never once set eyes on or even touched a woman.”
Now it’s my turn to frown in disbelief. There is no way that this hunk of a man has been surrounded by all these women, literally offering themselves to him, and he hasn’t taken them up on it.
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Nope,” Rochelle says, popping the P. “The moment he walked in here with you, we couldn’t believe it. We were even beginning to wonder if he batted for the other side,” she says. “Oh my god, not that that’s a problem at all,” she rushes out.
I snort, laughing. There is no way that he is. I think of how he made my body tremble last night, the way he brought me to the edge multiple times without much effort. No man has ever been able to make me feel so special, so loved.
“Do you like him?” Red asks, picking up her own glass, and taking a sip.
I take a moment to think about what she’s asked and realise that if I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t be bothered about him leaving this morning and not coming back.
“Yeah, I really do. It’s just not the right time, you know, with everything going on.”
“Personally, I think it’s the perfect time,” Red says, placing her glass back on the table and grabbing my hand again. “He wants to help you heal. He wants to be the one to get you your boys back. Right now, there is no better time.”
“She’s right,” Rochelle adds.
“Thanks, ladies—” I’m interrupted when the doors to the bar swing open and Clay storms through. I stand up, wanting to tell him that I want to give this a try, when Drifter follows shortly behind him. Rochelle grabs my arm, shaking her head.
“Now is not the time.” I jump as a door slams in the distance. Everyone in the bar goes quiet for a brief moment before carrying on with their conversations like it’s a normal everyday occurrence. I sit back down at the table.
“It’ll be okay,” Rochelle reassures.
“It didn’t look okay,” I add nervously.
“This is how it works here. There’s a system. They need to work their shit out, and then it’s as if nothing happened. They’re brothers, maybe not by blood, but they’re bound together by more than that. By respect. By honour. They’ll never let anything come between them”
I nod, oddly comforted by the ways of the club already. These two have taken me under their wing like one of their own, even though I’m not. I’m an outsider to them, but you’d never think that.
Rock comes over to the table and slides his hand to the back of Red’s neck. She stares up at him with love as he brings her closer to him and kisses her hard on the mouth, leaving her breathless.
“Get a room,” Rochelle drawls out. They break their kiss, and Rock sits beside her, pulling her into his side.
“What’s up, Rochelle? Jealous?" Rock asks, clearly goading her.
“Rock, I’m jealous of the fact you fuckers are at it like rabbits and Drifter hides out in his office.” She laughs. I think the pressure of having children is really beginning to take its toll on their relationship.
“Well, Drifter looks like he could do with some one-on-one time.” Rock winks, and Red smacks him round the head. I smirk at their fun-loving display.
“Did you really just say that?” she snaps.
“But in all seriousness, I wouldn’t wanna be Clay right now.”
I stare at the office door, wondering what the hell Clay could have done to piss off his Pres. He loves this club more than life itself.
Clay
The door slams, and I turn just as Drifter’s fist collides with my face. That fucker is going to bruise. I wince as he pulls his fist back, clenching and unclenching his fingers to ease the pain I imagine he feels in his knuckles. I deserved it—I never should have gone against his wishes.
Drifter walks over to his desk, plonking himself onto his chair and opening the drawer, grabbing two glasses and his bottle of Jack.
“Now, sit the fuck down,” he grits out, pouring us each a double shot of whiskey.
I drop onto the couch. I knew the minute I set foot through those doors that I’d fucked up, but I couldn’t stop seeing the pain in Belle’s eyes when I dragged her over that railing, and it’s all because of Brandy.
“What the fuck did I tell you, Clay?” he bellows, knocking back his own whiskey and refilling it. I pinch the bridge of my nose, resting my head back against the wall.
“I fucked up, Pres,” I say, defeated with the way I’ve handled this whole situation.
“You’ve royally fucked up. I expect this shitty behaviour from our prospects, not my VP.”
“Sorry.”
“Is that all you have to say for your fucking self?”
“I needed to do something. I can’t stand to see her hurting like that.”
“It’s not our fucking place, Clay. She isn’t your ol’ lady, and Brandy works for the club. You can’t just start throwing your weight around.”
“She’s a dirty fucking stripper, hardly a contributing member of society,” I spit, his unwillingness to see my point getting on my fucking last nerve.
“She’s contributing more than that stray you brought in,” he growls, picking up his drink and pushing mine towards me.
I stare at it, but don’t take it. I clench my jaw in irritation, angry he’s not backing me and pissed he’s referring to Belle as a stray when she’s clearly a lot more than that to me.
“Fuck it,” I mutter with a shrug. “I’m claiming her as my ol’ lady then. No fucker will touch her, not even that piece of shit playing mother to her children.”
I want her as my own. This wasn’t the way I expected this shit to go down, but it makes sense. The club will have no choice but to protect her once she’s mine.
Drifter nods, lifting my glass and offering it to me. I take it and chink it against his. I briefly close my eyes, instantly regretting it when I feel the swelling, but at least he didn’t kick my arse completely.
“You need to ice that,” Drifter offers, nodding at the offending eye.
“I deserved it.”
“Too fucking right you did,” he says, standing and making his way to the office door.
“You coming?” he asks, opening it, and I frown in confusion. “You need to claim her,” he reminds me.
Shit. I haven’t spoken to her about any of this.
“Can we hold off?” I ask, but I already know the answer. He doesn’t owe me anything, especially after I went against his order.
“Not a fucking chance,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “You fucked up tonight. You wanna claim her or not?”
I nod. Fuck.
Drifter makes his way to the bar with me following behind like a fucking scolded puppy.
“Get him some ice,” Drifter orders. Hazel wraps ice in a tea towel before passing it over the bar to me. I hold it on the swelling, grimacing as it pushes against the bruising that I know will be evident. Drifter wolf-whistles, and everyone in the bar goes silent, all eyes on us.
“Can I get everyone’s attention?” he hollers.
“Clay here has some news. He’s claiming the lovely Bella.
” I scan the room to find her sitting with Red and Rochelle.
I fix my eyes on her, waiting for her reaction.
The whole room erupts into congratulations, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
She whispers something to Red, and I see her expression change from confusion to fury.
Her eyes meet mine, and I mouth ‘I’m sorry’.
She stands abruptly from the table as the brothers come over, clapping me on the back.
I place the ice back on the bar and watch as she storms past me.
I make a grab for her arm, but she snatches it out of my grasp.
“Fuck, you kept that one secret,” Slayer says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She visibly tenses.
“Yeah, he sure fucking did, even from me,” she spits, turning on her heel and making her way for the stairs. I’m relieved she’s heading upstairs instead of leaving.
“Belle,” I shout after her, but she ignores me. “Belle.” Nothing. She continues to take the stairs two at a time. “Bella,” I yell. She stops, turning slowly.
When her eyes finally land on me, I regret my tone immediately. She looks fit to murder. “Clay, go fuck yourself.”
“Let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you fucked me last night and left me the entire day without so much as a word, then come waltzing in here to fucking claim me as your ol’ lady?” She walks back towards me, standing a few steps above so she matches my height.
“You know what hurts most?” she asks. “The fact that I thought I’d done something wrong, that you didn’t want to come back to me. Maybe I would’ve opted to be your ol’ lady, but you didn’t even give me a chance. So, take your fucking arse back to the bar and leave me in fucking peace.”
I stand at the bottom of the stairs, watching as she disappears up them. I’ve managed to fuck everything within the space of a few hours.
Red comes up behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Give her time,” she whispers as I turn to sit on the steps.
“Man, how could I fuck it up so badly?”
“You wanna save her. She’ll come round.”
I run my hands through my hair. “I’m not so sure.”
“Right now, you need to get back in the bar with your brothers and give her some time.”
“I’m just trying to help. It’s the only way I can save her.”
“Have you ever thought, Clay, that she doesn’t need saving? She just needs to feel loved, to feel listened to,” she says, taking a seat beside me.
“I want to help her, though, and I can’t do that unless she’s a member of the club.”
“Do you like her?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Then she needs to know that. She doesn’t want you to claim her because you feel like you need to. She wants you to claim her because you want to.”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then give her time and show her,” she says, standing, “Now, get the fuck back in there.”