Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
VIKING
“She just walked toward them?” Bullet asks. “She got in their car, and they just… drove away.”
I’m standing in his office before the church he’s called. I wanted to make sure he had all the information, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do, which was actually to tell him the whole story. But he’s my president, and he needs to have all the information.
Complete fucking bullshit, but whatever; I can’t keep things from him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tip my chin slightly as I look down my nose at him, waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“It’s not your fault,” he states.
My head jerks back slightly as if he’s hit me. Pressing my lips together, I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t know where this shit is coming from. He should be reading me the whole goddamn riot act.
He should probably strip me of my road captain title, at the very fucking least. And he should end it by beating the absolute shit out of me and leaving me for dead. But right now, he’s telling me it’s no big deal.
I don’t understand what the fuck is going on.
Leaning forward, I place my palms against his wooden desk, my gaze searching his for a moment. “Are you fucking serious with me right now?” I growl. “It’s absolutely my fault. I fucking froze right there in the middle of the goddamn street, Bullet.”
“Why?” he asks.
He doesn’t change his tone, doesn’t change his demeanor. He leans back in his chair, tilting his head back slightly, his eyes finding mine.
“Why?”
“Why?”
I watch him for a moment, my anger slowly dissipating. I know exactly what he’s asking me. Why did I freeze? And if I say it’s because I’m madly fucking in love with Lainey, that’s admitting I have feelings for her.
And I’m not going to do that. Not when I can’t have her. What would be the point? I’m not going to fuck up her shit any more than it already is. She’s a woman who wants to make her own choices, and even if I don’t like them, she can’t make the one I want, and neither can I, so I don’t say shit.
Pressing my lips together, I think about telling him to fuck all the way off, but I decide against it. I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell my president to fuck off. Not when he knows what I’m thinking and just wants to hear me say the words.
I’m not going to do that, though.
I’ll never admit a thing. Not one that makes me look weak in any way. And both of the logical reasons as to why I couldn’t protect Lainey make me look exactly that way. So I go with avoidance and say nothing.
“It doesn’t matter why. All that matters is it happened. So what the fuck do we do now?”
His lips twitch into a smirk, his eyes searching mine, and he lets out a chuckle. “You fucking fell, and you fell hard. Did you even touch her?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark.
He lets out a chuckle. “Well,” he says, “I’m guessing you didn’t, and that’s why you’re pissed. Although I can’t quite guess at how you haven’t fucked her in the past few years.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’ve been alone together enough, with enough opportunity. Nobody would have known one way or the other. I see how you watch her and the way she looks at you. That shit is absolutely fucking obvious, brother.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Because fuck him and fuck that. Instead, I take a step backward, my gaze never leaving his. His lips twitch into a smirk, almost as if he’s really called me out on something and thinks he’s downright fucking funny.
He’s not.
“What’s the plan?” I demand.
“That depends…”
“On?”
“Are you going to tell Piggy you want to claim her?”
I stare at him for a moment, unsure of where he’s going with this, which at the same time makes me unsure of how I’m going to answer it. Why the fuck would I tell Piggy something that isn’t going to happen?
“Because if you are, then we’ll discuss getting her back, but if you don’t want her…”
I stare at him, blinking and unsure that he’s just said what he has or actually inferred what he’s inferred. When he doesn’t continue or clarify, I decide it’s time for me to ask him exactly what he’s saying… or rather not saying.
“Are you telling me that you’re going to let them keep her? That you’re going to just hand her over to the Front Mob Family?”
His voice is thick when he speaks, almost as if he doesn’t want to say the thing he’s fucking alluding to.
But he needs to say the words out loud, because if he can’t say them to me, how in the fuck is he going to explain it to Piggy?
How the fuck is he going to tell him that he’s just giving his sister away?
For what?
Money?
A partnership?
What is the actual goddamn reason here?
“If she agrees to the terms, and if we agree to them as well, there’s no reason why we can’t make a deal.”
I feel as if I’m living in an alternate universe. This moment, this conversation, cannot be real. Shaking my head, I clear my throat, and I decide I don’t give a fuck if Bullet is my president or not.
Right now, in this moment, I don’t fucking respect him.
LAINEY
“We’ll meet with Lorenzo tomorrow, but for tonight, you can call this home. I’ll show you to your room.”
The apartment is seriously sexy. I didn’t know apartments could be sexy, but here I am, standing in this sleek place with masculine, expensive furniture, and it is indeed sexy. Black leather sofa, mirrored glass coffee table, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances.
Everything is perfect. It’s all staged like a photographer is going to appear and start taking pictures for a magazine spread at any given moment.
Taking a step forward, I decide to go ahead and slip off my shoes.
The floors are a gray wood-style flooring, but the carpets are white.
The last thing I want to do is mess something up.
“Is this where you live?” I turn my head to look over at him.
Paul is standing a few feet away, his eyes dancing as he takes me in. Obviously, to him, this is funny or something. I don’t know, but I’m not going to ask either. That seems like it might be embarrassing, and I refuse to be embarrassed any further than I need to be at this juncture.
“Where you live for now, too,” he murmurs.
Interesting. We’re too far away from the bakery for me to make it in the morning. I wonder if I should call Dakota or someone else to at least put a message on the door that I’ve had an emergency or something and won’t be able to open up tomorrow.
“I’ll show you to your room, but first—” He opens his hand, extending it out toward me, his palm facing upward. Shifting my gaze from his, I look down at his waiting palm and wonder if he wants to hold my hand or what the hell he’s waiting for exactly.
“Phone,” he softly demands.
“Phone?”
He jerks his chin in a single nod. “Until we get all this situated, I don’t need you to call anyone and let them know where you are.”
For the first time since deciding to just climb into that car and go off with Paul and his two goons, who are just outside the door in the hallway, I am thinking this may have been a mistake.
This feels like I’m giving him too much control. I’m not sure how to get out of this, and I have a feeling there is no out. I should have thought about the phone thing, and now I’m inside this apartment with him, or condo, or whatever the fuck it is, with no real way out and zero leverage.
“I should call one of my coworkers, let them know I won’t be able to open the bakery tomorrow so she can put a note on the door or something.”
Paul tilts his head to the side, and judging by the way his face is completely expressionless while he stares at me, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. I bite the skin at the inside corner of my bottom lip and shift the skin back and forth, waiting for him to respond.
“Put her on speaker. Then give me the phone,” he states.
It is not a suggestion. It is not an offer. It is a statement. Opening my small purse, I reach inside and find my phone. My movements are slow and precise. I don’t know why, but this feels like it needs to be slow. Nothing sudden because I have a feeling this guy would lose his cool in an instant.
Finding Dakota’s name, I decide that she’s the one I should call. Sure, she’s probably tucked into bed, but I can leave her a message if nothing else. What I won’t be able to do is tell her anything that I don’t want Paul to hear. So that’s going to be tricky.
Touching the call button on the screen, I wait for her to pick up.
She answers on just the second ring, which surprises me.
When I hear her greet me, she sounds out of breath.
I open my mouth to ask her if she’s okay, but I don’t get the opportunity because she speaks first, asking me the same thing.
“Is everything okay?”
I clear my throat before I say anything, wondering how exactly I’m going to proceed. My gaze stays affixed on Paul’s, and when he dips his chin, I continue speaking. “I’m okay. I just… I won’t be at the shop for a few days. Can you put a note on the door?”
“A note on the door?” she asks in a whisper.
“Just a note saying that due to a personal emergency, I won’t be able to open the bakery until next week.”
There is a moment of silence, and I hope against all hopes that she doesn’t say anything that I can’t explain away. Or ask me anything that I can’t answer. Sucking in a breath, I hold it and only release it when she speaks.
“I can do that. And, Lainey?” she calls out.
“Yes?”
“Be careful. We love you.”
“Love you, too,” I whisper.
For a moment, I’m filled with the idea that maybe I’ve just agreed to do something that I shouldn’t have. I love my family, all of them. The last thing I want to do is turn my back on them.
Ending the call, I hand my phone to Paul, placing it in his still-waiting hand. I watch as he powers it down, sliding his thumb across the screen, then shoves it into his pocket. His eyes slide up the entire length of my body and stop when they meet my own.
“Go to bed, Lainey.”
His voice is gruff, sexy, and a thrill of desire slides up my spine. “Okay,” I exhale.
Without another word, he walks past me, and I follow behind him as I make my way toward the hallway. He stops at a door, reaching out before he pushes it open. Then he’s gone. I don’t watch him go, though. I’m too mesmerized by the bedroom in front of me.
I didn’t think about what it might look like, but I didn't imagine it would be… lush.