Chapter 20
Twenty
Emma
It’s Saturday.
And here I am, standing in front of my mirror, caught in a mild crisis.
Not a full-on meltdown, but the kind where you stare at yourself for far too long, trying to decipher if you look confident or if you’ve just tried way too hard.
Tonight is the club’s annual barbecue.
And Hawk invited me.
Just the thought sends a flutter through my stomach that I can’t ignore.
This will be my first time at the clubhouse, the first glimpse into Hawk’s world, and the first chance to meet many of the people who fill his life. I want to leave a lasting impression.
Which is why I’ve changed outfits three times already.
But the one I’m wearing now…
I glance at my reflection again, taking in every detail.
Okay.
I look good.
My hair cascades in soft curls around my shoulders, the loose waves framing my face just right. I spent more time than I’d like to admit perfecting my makeup, but the result is worth it. My eyes seem bigger, my skin smooth, and my lips shine with a soft pink gloss.
Pretty, but not overdone.
The skinny jeans hug my hips and thighs like they were poured onto me, sucking everything in and giving the illusion of a tiny waist. They enhance my curves in a way that feels empowering.
Then there’s the top.
The burgundy corset fits as if it was tailored for my body. The deep V neckline plunges daringly low, pushing my breasts up and together, creating a silhouette that feels almost unfair.
The lace-up detailing pulls the fabric snug against my torso, accentuating every curve.
The halter strap wraps around my neck, leaving my back almost bare, exposing my shoulders and arms.
It’s bold.
Way bolder than I usually dress.
But when I first tried it on earlier, I felt… powerful. Sexy.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I examine myself again.
I really hope Hawk likes it.
My gaze drifts down to the shoes on the floor.
Heels.
Or my black Doc Martens.
I stare at the heels, contemplating for a moment before kicking them aside.
“Absolutely not,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Instead, I lace up my Docs, which somehow ground the outfit while still keeping it sexy.
I grab my favorite perfume and layer it lightly across my neck and wrists, letting the scent settle softly around me.
Okay.
I can do this.
I grab my keys and head out the door.
---
The clubhouse is only about fifteen minutes away. Close enough that I’ve passed the road before, but I’ve never actually driven down it.
As my Beetle hums along the quiet road, my nerves start to creep in.
The closer I get, the tighter my stomach feels.
I suddenly become acutely aware that I’m walking into a place full of bikers who have probably known each other for years.
Meanwhile, I’m just… me.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
Okay.
I definitely need a drink when I get there. Maybe two.
The road curves, and the trees thin out.
Then the compound appears.
My eyes widen.
The place resembles a fortress.
Tall fencing surrounds the entire property, and a massive gate blocks the entrance, flanked by a small security building. Two men stand near the gate, watching incoming vehicles with vigilant eyes.
This is… way more serious than I expected.
I roll up slowly and lower my window.
One of the guys steps forward, and then he grins.
“Hey, Em.”
I recognize him instantly. He’s one of the guys who rotates security shifts watching my house sometimes—young, maybe early twenties, always polite when he waves from his truck.
“Hi,” I respond with a smile. “Sorry I didn’t bring trays today.”
His smirk widens. “All good, Em.”
The gate slides open behind him.
He gestures deeper into the compound. “Park over by the garage.”
“Thanks.”
I drive in slowly and immediately realize this party is way bigger than I imagined.
Bikes.
Everywhere.
Rows and rows of motorcycles stretch across the lot, with cars scattered around—probably fifteen or twenty mixed in.
My little yellow Beetle stands out like a cartoon character in the midst of it all.
But honestly?
I love this thing, so I don’t care.
I park where he directed me and step out, glancing around.
People are everywhere.
Music drifts from the clubhouse, laughter echoing outside.
But I don’t recognize anyone, which means…
Time to go inside.
I take a steadying breath and walk toward the doors.
The second I step inside, the noise doubles.
The clubhouse is packed.
Men wearing leather cuts from different clubs crowd the room. Some lean against the bar; others cluster around tables, laughing loudly.
Women are everywhere too.
Some cling to men’s sides, while others wander around nearly naked.
Tiny shorts. Bikini tops. Dresses that barely count as clothing.
A few brush their bodies against the men like they’re putting on a show.
It’s… a lot.
I head straight for the bar.
I definitely need that drink.
Thank God I’m finally off the pain meds for my arm.
I glance down briefly at my casted wrist.
Still ugly.
But maybe my boobs look good enough tonight that nobody will notice it.
An older woman stands behind the bar, chewing gum.
“What’ll it be?” she asks, eyeing me.
I spot something familiar in the cooler behind her.
“Oh—can I get a watermelon Carbliss?”
She doesn’t even turn around. “Don’t have that.”
Pop.
Her gum bubble bursts.
I blink. “…It’s literally right there.”
She turns, looks inside the cooler, then snorts. “Well shit.”
She grabs the can and slides it across the counter. “Sorry, girl. Never had that before.”
I crack it open. “No worries.”
She leans on the bar, her expression curious. “So who you lookin’ for tonight?”
“Hawk.”
She snorts, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. “Good luck. There’s a line of women waitin’ for him.”
My smile falters slightly.
…Oh.
I don’t like that answer.
But I just nod and walk away.
The deeper I move into the clubhouse, the crazier it gets.
Music pounding.
Men shouting.
Women grinding on whoever will let them.
One room holds several pool tables.
Two are being used.
The third—
I freeze.
A man leans against it casually while a woman kneels between his legs.
My eyes widen. Oh my.
People are just openly having sex.
Right here.
I quickly turn and keep walking.
Where the hell is Hawk?
I finish my drink and grab another Carbliss.
Maybe alcohol will help.
A couple of guys approach me soon after.
“Damn,” one says slowly, his eyes dragging over my body. “You look good.”
“Real good,” another adds.
“Thanks,” I reply politely, trying to keep my composure.
Then a girl slides up beside them.
She’s barely wearing anything—tiny shorts and a scrap of fabric pretending to be a top.
She drapes herself over one of the men and looks me up and down with a disdainful smirk. “She looks like a boring fuck.”
The guy laughs.
I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, “You’ll never find out.”
I grab another drink, feeling emboldened.
Apparently, that’s the wrong move.
The guy straightens, eyes narrowing. “What did you just say, bitch?”
I sigh, exasperated. “Oh my God.”
“If I want you to suck my cock,” he snaps, stepping closer, “you’re gonna suck my fucking cock.”
I blink up at him, incredulous. “Wow. That’s the least appealing sales pitch I’ve ever heard.”
The girl snorts, but he doesn’t find it funny.
“You got a mouth on you.”
“Thankfully,” I reply, sipping my drink, “it comes with standards.”
His face darkens, anger flaring. “You think you’re funny?”
“Not really. But watching you get mad this fast is kind of entertaining.”
People nearby begin to listen, the tension in the air palpable.
He leans closer, his voice low and threatening. “If I tell you to get on your knees—”
“I wouldn’t put your tiny shrimp dick anywhere near my mouth.”
Laughter erupts from someone behind him.
His face turns red with rage. “You fucking bitch—”
“Careful,” I say calmly, my heart racing. “You’re starting to look emotional.”
The girl beside him laughs harder, clearly enjoying the show. “You stuck-up cunt!”
I sigh dramatically. “See? That right there. That’s why nobody wants to sleep with you.”
He lunges forward, and I roll my eyes, prepared to walk away.
But his hand grabs my upper arm, and I freeze.
My eyes drop to my cast.
Then back to his face.
Then back to my cast again.
I start mentally calculating how badly it would hurt to punch him.
Before I can—
He’s suddenly ripped away.
Diesel and Ghost drag him backward.
“Calm the fuck down!” Diesel roars, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Ghost shoves him again, and I’m still yelling, “You’re a fucking pussy!”
Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, a protective presence.
“Easy,” a voice says, soothing yet commanding.
I twist to see Riot grinning down at me, his expression a mix of amusement and concern.
But before I can respond, a deep voice suddenly cuts through the noise of the room.
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
Everything stops.
I turn my head, and there he is.
Hawk.
Standing across the room, dark eyes blazing as he looks between me and the man Diesel and Ghost are holding.
My anger melts instantly.
I smile sweetly at him, feeling a rush of relief wash over me.