Chapter 7
Goldie
She was never going to meet her deadline at this rate.
Once again, she found herself staring at her computer screen, daydreaming about a certain redheaded mafia boss, enforcer, whatever he’d be called. Only now, she knew exactly what it felt like to be spanked and finger-fucked over a set of strong, thick thighs.
And while that knowledge had certainly helped bring an element of realism to the scene she’d just finished writing that she could—however begrudgingly—admit hadn’t been there before, it was also making it incredibly difficult to focus now that the scene was done.
It was lowering to admit she’d half-hoped he would have texted her. Or maybe even shown up at her door with some grand declaration of how he couldn’t stay away from her, no matter how hard he tried. In her books, that’s exactly what would have happened.
So maybe he was right about her books being bullshit.
Asshole.
“Fuck this,” she muttered, annoyed with herself for moping around like a lovesick teenager.
Just as she was stalking to her kitchen for a third cup of coffee, the sound of her favorite time-traveling alien landing his blue police box rang out from her pocket. Pulling her phone free, she stopped dead in her tracks at the message on her screen.
[Aria: So… are you sitting gingerly this morning?]
Embarrassment heated Goldie’s cheeks. It wasn’t that she had anything against sharing her sexual exploits with a friend.
But with all her high school besties either happily settled down with the requisite husband and two-point-five children or off chasing their own adventures in another part of the country, she didn’t really have any close friends to share such things with.
And it wasn’t really like she’d had much to share up until recently, anyway.
Now, though… Now she did have something she was dying to talk about with someone. And judging by the message sitting on her phone, Aria was quite possibly the one person in Goldie’s world who could even begin to understand what she was feeling.
“Okay. We can do this. It’s just a bit of girl talk.”
[Goldie: A bit, yeah. How did you know?
Aria: I may have done a little reconnaissance of my own in Killian’s phone. Boys are the biggest gossips, I swear.]
Oh, god. The head of the local Irish mafia knew she’d gotten her ass spanked like a naughty child.
Lord, just take me now.
[Aria: Anyway, I thought you might need a sympathetic ear.
Goldie: Understatement of the year. Do you wanna grab a coffee or something? There’s a local place, Rev and Roll, that makes the best chocolate chip muffins.]
Nerves, almost as bad as what she’d felt waiting for Brody to spank her, churned in her stomach while she sipped her coffee and waited for Aria’s response.
Had she overstepped? Aria was the one who’d offered her ear, but maybe she’d just meant through text.
Maybe she didn’t actually want to be the kind of friends who randomly hung out at a coffee shop in the middle of a weekday.
Ugh. Why the hell was making new friends as an adult so fucking hard?
After what felt like hours of stressing over whether she’d scared off her potential new bestie, her phone finally chimed again.
[Aria: Give me half an hour.
Goldie: It’s a date.]
Brody
Where the hell was she going?
From the office space he’d rented in the building across the street from Goldie’s apartment, Brody watched her make her way down the sidewalk toward Rev and Roll.
But that wasn’t right. In the nearly two months he’d been watching her—since before she’d made herself a pain in his ass, though he’d never actually admit that to anyone—he’d never seen her make two trips to the bakery in one day.
So what was the special occasion?
Only one way to find out.
Tucking his laptop away for later, he locked the office door behind him and jogged down the steps rather than wait for the elevator. The building was still under renovation, and clearly the old, slow-as-molasses-in-December elevator was toward the bottom of the list of things to upgrade.
Unlike that time he’d caught Goldie tailing him, Brody kept a respectable distance from his target, watching her from nearly a block away as she did indeed stop in front of the bakery, her head on a swivel as she scanned her surroundings.
Waiting on someone.
A date?
Jealousy clawed at his insides at the mere thought of another man putting his grubby hands on her.
On what was his. No matter how many different ways he tried to remind himself that she wasn’t now, and would never actually be his, it didn’t seem to matter.
She invaded his every thought, his every dream, an obsession he couldn’t shake.
An obsession that had only grown worse now that he knew exactly what she looked like when she came all over his hand with her bottom still pink from his discipline.
Fuck.
It took all of his considerable willpower not to march right up to her and demand an explanation for this deviation from her routine. Only the knowledge that he’d be tipping his hand and she’d know he’d been watching her kept him from doing exactly that.
Instead, he made his way over to a little children’s clothing boutique and pretended to browse the racks of onesies and other ridiculously tiny clothing while he watched.
And waited.
Even from across the street, he could see the way her whole face lit up when she spotted her date. When he finally got his hands on whoever she was grinning at like that, he—
Aria?
The jealous monster inside him settled down as he watched his cousin’s wife embrace Goldie like they were old friends. Which, considering everything they’d been through together in the short time they’d known each other, he supposed was fair enough.
Trauma had a way of binding people together, for better or worse.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he glanced down just long enough to send a message before refocusing on the women as they made their way into the bakery.
[Brody: Where’s Aria?
Killian: What the fuck do you mean where’s Aria? She’s with you.]
That explained why she didn’t have a security detail with her. Sneaky brat.
[Brody: She’s not, but I’ve got eyes on her. Was just curious if you knew she was wandering downtown Charleston without a guard.
Killian: I swear to god she’s trying to give me a fucking heart attack. Keep an eye on her for me.
Brody: Already on it.]
Mentally shaking his head at Aria’s antics, he plucked a couple cute dresses from the rack and made his way to the counter.
Aria kept referring to the baby as a ‘she’ even though they hadn’t officially announced the gender yet, but he could always exchange it for something else if it turned out she was wrong.
With a nod to the flirty older woman behind the counter who checked him out, he carried his purchases from the store and went in search of a better vantage point to keep an eye on his two naughty charges.
Goldie
“Thanks for coming. I was going a bit out of my mind in my apartment.”
Waving a hand, Aria O’Rourke let out a derisive sort of snort and rolled her eyes.
“Please. You’re doing me a favor. Killian’s been even more overbearing than usual and that’s saying something.
It’s a miracle I was able to get out of the house at all today, and I only managed that because he thinks I’m with Brody. ”
“Oh. Do you… spend a lot of time with Brody?”
She’d been trying for nonchalance, but judging by the smug curve of Aria’s lips, she failed drastically.
“Yes, but only because he babysits me whenever Killian isn’t available.
But we can talk about Brody after we get some of these fabulous pastries.
The baby is finally tolerating more than just muffins so I’ve got my eye on that strawberry roll. ”
Reaching for the door, Aria pulled it open, letting out a delighted gasp as they stepped inside. “Oh, this place is adorable! Killian brings me stuff from here all the time but I’ve never actually been inside. Which is a shame since I used to live right down the street.”
It was, indeed, surprisingly adorable given that it was well known to be run by a motorcycle gang.
No, not gang, club. Boone Winters, the president of said club and owner of the bakery was very strict on that point as Goldie had learned the couple of times she’d tried to wheedle information out of him.
Sleek black wood made up the counter that stretched from one end of the room to the other, and all of the seats were done in plush leather in the same color.
Hints of chrome peeked out here and there, breaking up the midnight shade so it wasn’t as overwhelming, and the walls were decorated with local art for sale, adding plenty of color.
The collection prominently featured a couple small pieces from Jasper Hale, which were still more than she could justify paying for an eight-by-ten canvas, though she was sorely tempted to do so pretty much every morning.
Dominic’s older brother was a fucking genius, and the need to own some of his art was a pang in her chest that never faded.
Maybe she should talk to Dom, see if he could get her a family discount or something.
“Morning, ladies.” The gorgeous man behind the counter flashed his signature million-dollar smile.
Lucien Vale—or Silk as he was known to the club and the bakery customers, a nod to his rather prestigious upbringing—looked more like a man who spent his days on Hollywood movie sets than on the back of a bike.
But she’d seen him ride and even though she didn’t know a single thing about motorcycles he looked damn good on one. “You’re late today, Austen.”
The nickname was one she’d been given once the club members learned she was an author.
It was a point of pride for them to have their very own bestselling author as a loyal customer, and she couldn’t deny the little thrill she got from having her own ‘call sign’ even if she wasn’t a member of the club.
She was, she’d realized, something of a mascot for the bakery, which was part of the reason she was so loyal to them.
That, and the donuts.
Before she could answer Silk, a woman stepped up beside him, her piercing blue eyes raking over Goldie and then Aria. “She’s not. This is her second visit of the day. And she brought a… friend.”
Goldie swore she could feel everyone’s eyes on her, and she prayed her face wasn’t as hot as it felt. “You make it sound like I’m up to no good, Warden.”
One eyebrow raising in what Goldie was starting to consider ‘The Daddy Look’, Harlow Pierce—aka, Warden—leaned forward, bracing her arms on the glass counter between them. “You’re cozied up with an O’Rourke like you’re besties. Something’s going on.”
“I’m helping her research her next book,” Aria lied breezily, seemingly unbothered by the other woman’s clear distrust of the situation. “After all, who better to help a mafia author than a mafia princess?”
Harlow’s expression didn’t change in the slightest as she slid her gaze to Aria and then back to Goldie. “That true, Austen?”
“Yup.” Oh, thank god her voice sounded much more confident than she was feeling. “Can we get a dozen cupcakes to go? Just a mix of whatever. Oh, and Aria wanted to try that Redline Roll, the one with the strawberries.”
Silk, who as far as Goldie could tell was never bothered by anything, winked and grabbed a pink bakery box from the stack. “A dozen cupcakes coming up, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Silk.”
While Silk went to work boxing up their treats, Harlow lingered, her gaze as unnervingly watchful as ever. “You sure you know what you’re getting into here, Austen?”
Irritation ran up Goldie’s spine. Why was everyone so convinced she couldn’t take care of herself? “I’m sure that I’m going to enjoy these delicious cupcakes with my friend. But I appreciate your concern, Lo.”
The nickname Harlow only entrusted to certain people had her expression softening, ever so slightly. “All right. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Harlow moved down the counter to take care of the next customer, but Goldie was keenly aware of the way her gaze continued to drift over to Goldie and Aria while Silk checked them out with his usual cheerful chatter.
“Sorry about that,” she said to Aria as they stepped outside into the crisp, non-judgmental air. “I don’t know what the hell got into Harlow.”
“It’s fine.” Aria waved a hand, brushing off her apologies. “It comes with the territory.”
“But it shouldn’t. You’re not really…” Cheeks heating yet again with embarrassment, Goldie trailed off.
“Not really an O’Rourke?” Eyes dancing with amusement, Aria grinned. “I can assure you that while I may not have been born an O’Rourke, I am very much one of them.”
“I know. I didn’t mean… Jesus Christ, I’m so bad at this. I’m sorry.”
“No apologies necessary. Trust me, I had my own issues with my husband’s legacy, for lack of a better word, when we first got together.”
Interest piqued, Goldie glanced around at the crowded tables outside the bakery. “Listen, I live like a block away. You wanna just come back to my place where we don’t have to talk in code?”
Everything about Aria seemed to light up at the suggestion. “Hanging out with my favorite author, in her apartment? Count me in.”