Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ROCHELLE
Iroll over, expecting Drifter to have snuck in later last night, but his side of the bed is empty. Unslept in. The coldness of his sheets replicates exactly how last night left me feeling. How could he choose a club whore over me?
Drifter and I have been together as far back as I can remember. We were both raised in the MC—his dad was president of the club when we were growing up, and my dad was his VP. I haven’t known any other way of life.
He’s always put me first. I’ll never forget when we were both in secondary school, Brody Jenson kept flirting with me, and I totally encouraged him because I wanted to make Drifter jealous.
What I didn’t anticipate was Drifter following him out the school gates and busting his nose.
From that day forward, I knew he would claim me as his ol’ lady one day.
A knock at the door brings me from my reminiscing, and my heart stutters in the hope that he’s come to check on me. But that hope soon turns to disappointment when Red pushes the door open with a peace offering.
“Coffee?”
I give a nod, sitting up in bed as she enters carrying two cups of coffee. She plops herself down beside me, handing me a cup.
“I saw Drifter downstairs wearing the same clothes as last night, so I thought you might need some company,” she says gently.
“Thanks.” I sigh. “I’m so pissed with him. He’s making me feel like I’m the crazy one. Like I’m being unreasonable.”
Red looks at me with raised brows.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap. “I’m not fucking unreasonable.
He chose that dirty little skank over me.
” I slam the coffee cup on the bedside table, pushing the duvet off me.
“She’s already making a name for herself around here, dancing on the bar, practically stripping at every opportunity. She doesn’t respect the rules.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all,” I snap, rummaging through my drawers to find something to wear.
“Rochelle,” she says carefully, “you know this life better than anyone. What type of President would he be if he just left her to get shot? He knew you were safe, but she wasn’t.”
I continue to search through my drawers, a few clothes falling to the floor. I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make the sting of his actions any easier to take.
Sighing, I grab some clothes and stomp into the en suite. Out of everyone, I thought Red would get it, and the fact she’s siding with him is bullshit.
Later that evening, I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I smooth down my short red skirt.
It’s too short, dangerously short, and I know the second I bend over, everyone will see the red G-string underneath.
The black lace top clings to my curves, pushing up my breasts to make them look bigger than my C-cups.
And deep down, I know it’s petty. I want his attention on me, and I know without a doubt, this outfit will do exactly that. Because if this fucker wants a club whore, that’s exactly what he’ll get.
My heels click on the wooden floor as I enter the bar.
It’s busy, and as I hold my head high, strutting like I don’t give two shits, all eyes turn to me.
But it’s Drifter’s face that grabs my attention.
His jaw is clenched tight, his knuckles white as he grips the bottle of beer which is paused midway to his mouth. His expression is pure fury.
There’s a knot forming in my throat as the beginnings of regret start to bubble in my chest. But I refuse to let him see it, so I smirk and throw my handbag over my shoulder as I head for the exit. His voice cuts across the room, a deep, growling tone right as my hand rests on the door.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going dressed like a hooker?”
I grimace, taking a deep breath before turning around with a bright smile on my face, which falters when I realise he’s right there, towering over me. I wonder how the hell he made it across the room so quickly.
His eyes are burning into me, his jaw ticking with anger whilst he waits for me to respond. My stomach clenches, but I square my shoulders and lift my chin slightly to meet his eyes.
“Out,” I say clearly, arching a brow in defiance.
I glance past him to see Siren watching closely. Her eyes are alight with satisfaction, happy to be the cause of our argument. I glare back until she looks away.
Drifter shifts slightly, blocking my view and forcing me to bring my attention back to him.
“I don’t fucking think so.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, which sends him over the edge.
His hand shoots to my jaw, gripping it firmly and pushing his face closer to mine until we’re practically nose to nose.
“I’ve got bigger fucking issues with this club under attack than you flaunting yourself like a fucking hussy.
” He releases me, shoving me away slightly, then turns away, running a hand through his ruffled hair.
Suddenly, as if he’s made a snap decision—or maybe he doesn’t trust me to listen—he spins back to me and grabs my wrist, proceeding to drag me back through the bar and towards the stairs.
“Take your fucking arse back upstairs and get changed into something less . . . slutty.”
Anger surges through me. I yank my wrist out of his grasp. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I scream, shoving him hard in the chest. He doesn’t even budge as he fixes me with a glare.
“You’re my ol’ lady,” he growls, “so do as you’re fucking told for once in your damn life.”
I inch closer. “Fuck you,” I hiss, then I turn on my heel and head up the stairs.
“And Rochelle?” I turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Stay in the clubhouse. Do I make myself clear?”
I roll my eyes, saluting with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Then I rush up the stairs, because right now, I need to put distance between us.
I slam the door to our room as hard as I can, making sure the wanker can hear it. Then I rest my back to the door and slide to the floor, an angry sob escaping me. What the fuck am I doing?
I’m no longer in school, yet I’m acting like a teenager.
I rest my head on my knees as I hug myself.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just wanted him to feel the rage I felt last night.
I’ve never been jealous, but seeing the way he put Siren first ignited an insecurity I didn’t even know I had in me.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that he needed to learn a lesson, that he needed to know how he made me feel, and the only way I could do that was by becoming the whore he wanted to protect.
I had to call out to that jealous streak in him to remind him that I’m his ol’ lady.
I angrily swipe away my tears. My emotions are all over the fucking place.
I feel like I’m beginning to lose the plot, but I’ll be damned if I apologise for my actions.
My mother always said I was stubborn, but I refuse to be walked all over like she was.
She was meek and wouldn’t argue or cause a scene.
That was back in the generation when women were seen but not heard and disrespecting their men would be punished.
But I’ve always been independent, and I’ll be damned if I ever let any man make me feel unworthy of their time and affection.
DRIFTER
“Pres.”
“Not now, Rock,” I snap, storming into my office and slamming the door behind me.
What the fuck is she playing at? The club is under threat, and she’s spitting her dummy out.
I thought we grew out of this when I made her my ol’ lady.
My blood boiled seeing her dressed like that, and watching my brothers drool over her like a new plaything they couldn’t wait to get their claws into made me want to gouge their eyes out.
Hell has never been jealous of the club girls.
So I have no idea what’s gotten into her.
Here we are trying to start a family of our own, and she’s getting her knickers in a twist over Siren.
There’s a knock on the door, and I inwardly groan. Did he not hear me the first fucking time?
“Rock, I said, not now,” I scream as I swing the door open, expecting to see Rock standing there, but instead, I find Siren looking at me through hooded eyes. Just what I fucking need right now.
“Sorry, Pres, I just wanted to check on you to see if I could assist,” she drawls as she grips her bottom lip with her teeth. The last thing I need right now is for Hell to see this little exchange and make a mountain out of a bloody molehill.
“No fucking chance,” I snipe, gripping the bridge of my nose in annoyance. I tried to play nice last night, but clearly, she didn’t get the message. She looks dejected, and for a few seconds, I feel like a grade-A prick.
“No bother, Pres,” she says, sauntering back off to the bar. I’m sure she’s got a death wish. Hell will seriously lose her shit if she continues this little escapade.
I’ve stayed clear of Hell today. I needed the rest of the day to consider how to handle the whole situation. She seems fragile at the moment, and I really don’t want to upset her any further.
I slowly open the bedroom door, and I’m met by the sound of her gentle snores. I step further into the room and quietly close the door behind me. Her small frame is illuminated by the soft glow of the moon shining through the window, and the urge to hold her is strong.
I toe off my boots then quietly strip down to my boxers.
As I get into bed beside her, she rolls away from me, sighing heavily.
It doesn’t deter me. I grab the throw from the end and pull it over us both, wrapping my arm around her waist and nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
I close my eyes and inhale the faint smell of her perfume.
How can she not see I’d do anything for her? She’s my world.
She pulls away from my touch, moving closer to the edge of the bed.
“Hell,” I whisper, waiting a beat before gently twiddling her hair between my fingers. “Hell, please.”