5. MARCY #2
I huff out a breath, scooping the chopped peppers into a bowl. “What about them?”
Bianca turns off the burner and leans against the counter, looking at me expectantly. “Come on, you can’t just drop a bomb like ‘I almost had sex with a biker in a locked room’ and not give me details.”
I roll my eyes, but my face warms at the memory. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh, wasn’t it?”
I groan, rubbing my face. “Fine. Maybe it was a little like that.”
Bianca cackles. “Thank God. I thought you were gonna make me beg for details.”
I smirk, turning back to the food. “They’re… not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, yeah, they look big and scary—tattoos, muscles, the whole ‘we could probably commit crimes and get away with it’ vibe.”
Bianca snorts. “Hot.”
I shake my head but can’t help but laugh. “But honestly? They were nice. Well, Hawk was.”
She raises a brow. “And Ryder?”
I hesitate. “He was… intense.”
Bianca leans in. “Intense, like sexy intense, or intense like ‘he’s gonna murder me?’”
I exhale. “Both?”
Bianca howls with laughter, and I can’t help but grin.
“They’re very different,” I admit, stirring the pot absentmindedly. “Hawk is smooth. He’s cocky, playful. He knows he’s charming and leans into it.”
“And Ryder?”
“He’s…” I chew my lip. “Quiet. Broody. Like he’s constantly sizing you up, deciding if you’re worth his time.”
Bianca hums. “And which one did you almost bang?”
“… Hawk.”
She slaps the counter. “I knew it!”
I groan, but she’s already cackling again. “I also danced with Ryder,” I add, rolling my eyes.
Bianca wiggles her eyebrows. “You are living my dream right now, you know that?”
I sigh, but a small smile tugs at my lips.
We finish up cooking and set the food on the table before finally settling down to eat. The moment the first bite hits my tongue, I let out a soft moan.
“Okay, fine, this was a good idea,” I say.
Bianca grins smugly. “Told you.”
As we eat, I pull out my phone, craving something sweet to go with dinner. “You want donuts?”
She perks up. “Do I?”
I tap on my food delivery app, scrolling through the menu. “I’ll order some.”
I click through to checkout and try to pay, but the screen flashes red.
Transaction failed.
I frown and try again. Same thing.
My stomach knots as I exit the app and open my bank account. A sharp pang hits my chest the second I see the notification.
Hold placed by the main cardholder.
I freeze.
Bianca notices instantly. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow, my hands tightening around my phone. “My dad.”
She blinks. “What?”
I exhale slowly, my pulse pounding. “He cut me off.”
Silence hangs between us. Bianca stares at me. No money. No access to my account.
I stare at the screen, my stomach twisting into knots. Like if I blink enough times, it’ll undo itself, and my bank account will be mine again.
But it won’t.
Because this? This is a classic Jake Hollingbow move.
Of course, he did this.
Of course, my father couldn’t just let me go.
I should’ve seen it coming. I hadn’t answered his calls all weekend, hadn’t played the dutiful daughter, and now? This is his way of forcing me back under his thumb.
Bianca is still watching me, fork frozen halfway to her mouth. “Are you serious right now?”
I let out a bitter laugh, tossing my phone onto the table. “Oh, completely. My bank account is locked. I can’t access any of my money.”
Her eyes widen. “He can do that?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Apparently.”
Bianca slams her fork down. “That is so fucked up.”
“Yeah, well. That’s Jake Hollingbow for you.” I rub my temples. “This is a ploy. He wants me to crawl back, apologize, and beg him to turn my card back on.”
Bianca scowls. “Are you gonna?”
I lift my head sharply. “Hell, no.”
I’d rather starve than go crawling back to that man.
I shake my head, pushing my plate away. “I need to find a job. And probably a new place to live, too.”
Bianca frowns. “You have a place to stay.”
I sigh. “I appreciate you letting me crash, Bi, but I can’t mooch off you forever.”
She huffs. “You’re not mooching. You’re figuring shit out. And if your jackass father wants to cut you off, then fuck him. You’ll land on your feet.”
I chew on my lip, my mind already spinning.
I don’t need his money. I’ll prove it to him.
Bianca reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “You’ll get a job soon. You’re smart, you’re capable, and you actually know how to work, unlike half the trust-fund babies out there.”
I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “You don’t get it, Bi.” My voice is rough, bitter. “My dad… he’s influential. If he doesn’t want me to get hired, he’ll make sure I can’t.”
Bianca frowns, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”
I let out a humorless laugh, leaning back in my chair.
“I mean, Jake Hollingbow doesn’t just lose.
And he sure as hell doesn’t let his daughter go rogue without consequences.
” I gesture vaguely at my phone. “This? Cutting off my money? That’s step one.
Step two is making sure I have no options but to crawl back to him. ”
Bianca’s brows knit together, her expression darkening. “You think he’d actually block you from getting a job?”
I scoff. “I know he would.”
My dad might be a paragon of virtue, but he’s ruthless when it comes to me. And he’ll do anything to keep appearances.
Bianca crosses her arms, leaning back. “Okay. So what, you just… don’t work? Let him win?”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I don’t know.” My voice is small, honest. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
Bianca is quiet for a moment, then she straightens, a glint in her eye. “Then we get creative.”
I raise a brow. “Creative how?”
A slow smirk spreads across her lips. “We find you something he can’t touch.”
I let out a breath, my chest tight with uncertainty.
If such a thing even exists.
My phone buzzes, vibrating against the table. I sigh, assuming it’s another text from my mother or, worse, my father.
But when I glance down at the screen, my stomach flips.
Unknown Number: I got your number from Ryder. I know things must have been confusing about what happened on Friday. Let’s meet and talk.
My pulse stutters.
Hawk.
I stare at the message, my brain scrambling to process it.
“Who’s that?” Bianca asks, still tapping at her own phone.
I hesitate, then flip my phone around to show her.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Well, hello, biker boy.” She smirks. “And look at him, all thoughtful and communicative. Swoon.”
I roll my eyes, but my grip on the phone tightens. Hawk wants to meet. To talk.
I don’t know why that sends a rush of nervous energy through me, but it does. Maybe because Friday night was supposed to be about me—my choice, my moment. And then that guy crashed it, leaving me feeling exposed, like I’d done something wrong even when I hadn’t.
Now, Hawk wants to clear the air.
I bite my lip, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Me: Where and when?