Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LAINEY
Yesterday was a day I don’t think I’ll ever forget, not in my lifetime. It was a fantasy come to life. Something I never truly allowed myself to imagine, and I loved it. Every second of it… at least for the day.
I knew it wouldn’t last, and I soaked it all up and in just for that reason alone. But I’m afraid it allowed me to have that hope again, and I can’t have that. I swore I wouldn’t. I played house with Gunnar.
And it was perfect.
I baked, we made dinner, we had so much sex that my body is screaming in aching pain, but only in the best ways. I cannot believe it was real. That it happened. And I wish I could go back and do it all over again.
But I can’t, even though it would be amazing. It’s now time for me to face my reality and my future, neither of which involves hanging out with or having sex with Gunnar. I love it all, but that is not my future, and it does nothing but hurt me, even to just imagine it could be real.
The time has come for me to begin shutting down my life as Lainey-Rose Colter. And that includes my bakery. Standing in the middle of my shop, I slowly spin around and take in the empty space.
Piggy helped me out with the down payment for this place, along with some start-up costs, but I built it into a successful business. It’s been my world, my life ever since. I’ve spent more time here than in my own place.
I was never going to make millions of dollars, but it was enough for me. It was more than I ever imagined it could be, an aspiration that came true. I’ve loved every second I spent here, especially the last few years.
This shop brought me true friendships I didn’t realize I’d been lacking in my life. Dakota walking into the bakery changed my life. She brought me back to the Vicious Reapers and even closer to my brother. The women I’ve met over the last several years have changed my world in the best ways.
Now that everything is happening, I’m not sure if I’m really ready to give them up. I thought I was. I thought I was so ready to move onward and upward, but now… I’m not so sure. And it’s not just the girls; it’s Gunnar, too.
I want to keep him for myself.
I knew that’s what I would want if I had the opportunity to have him in any capacity, and now look at me. I yearn for permanence, even though I know what we have is and will only ever be temporary.
But then again, I feel like I understand him a bit better now. At least I know that he didn’t reject me because he didn’t want me. It was his own personal hang-ups.
And here I am, making excuses for him because I’m madly in love with someone I can’t have. I am in love with Gunnar; I am intensely and deeply in love with him. Being with him only solidified that feeling for me.
As I look around the bakery, I can’t help but imagine what it might be like if we were to be together—me and Gunnar. It would be perfect. Pastries, breads, coffees, and my family. Found and blood. I couldn’t think of anything better.
I wouldn’t be trying to decide what to do with my equipment. I wouldn’t be thinking about what life would be like without my daily baking. Without opening my store and seeing my customers… without seeing my best friends nearly every single day.
And I sure as shit would not be thinking about what I’m going to do as a wife to a stranger—to a mafia-type guy who will probably kill me eventually. I mean, my brother is trying to keep that from happening with the contract, but the reality is that I will be Paul’s.
A knock on the door causes me to jump. Whipping my head around, I look at the front door in surprise. But then my lips twitch into a smirk at the sight of the people on the other side of the door.
They shouldn’t be here, yet they are. I should be doing this on my own, a chapter to close, but I can’t deny that I’m glad they’re here with me, to hold my hand and maybe even wipe my tears.
Walking over to the door, I unlock it and gently tug it open to let them in. It’s all of the girls—Millie, Cidney, Zadie, Briana, Posey, and Dakota. I’m surprised they’re here, but also not. These women always know when to show up. Either one, several, or, like today, all of them.
They always know when they’re needed.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Cidney whispers as she approaches, wrapping her arms around me. I close my eyes the moment she’s close.
“So we’re definitely going with keeping that contract?” Posey asks.
My eyes pop open as Cidney takes a step backward, her arms falling from my shoulders to her sides. Her eyes widen as she presses her lips together. She’s obviously not thrilled that Posey is asking me that.
“Posey,” Dakota warns.
Posey doesn’t listen to them, though. She shakes her head from side to side, her hair flying wildly around her shoulders, before she continues. I’m a bit taken aback by her enthusiasm.
“I’m not going to keep quiet. This whole thing is bullshit. You’re ours,” she states and then stomps her foot slightly like a little kid. I want to be theirs. More than she could ever know, I want to be theirs, and I wish things had worked out that way.
“She’s not ours, but she should be,” Dakota mutters.
I open my mouth in an attempt to end this conversation because I can tell that it’s going to get a little dicey, especially with all of the big personalities in the room. And there are personalities in abundance.
Posey clears her throat, and I snap my lips closed, watching her and then listening to her as she begins to speak. Her eyes search mine, and I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not what she says next.
“Ivy always makes sure that there is an out for his clients, usually the club, in every contract he writes. Not often does he back himself into a corner. I asked him last night if there was wiggle room.”
Before I can even open my mouth to say anything, Cidney hisses. My attention shifts to her. Her gaze flicks from Posey to me, then back to Posey.
“He does, but I wouldn’t even know how that would go. And what the collateral would be.”
She’s right. Shaking my head, I clear my throat and plaster on my fake customer-service smile. I don’t use that voice because they would totally make that. Instead, I hold up my hands.
“I don’t need an out. I’m going through with this,” I state. “But what am I going to do with all of this?” I ask, waving my hands around at the shop.
Nobody answers me immediately. I’m not sure if they should, but with how wide their eyes are and how they watch me, I can tell they aren’t buying my smile. They aren’t buying my insistence that this is what I want. I blame Gunnar for that, but I also blame myself.
VIKING
I watch her for a long moment. She’s standing in the middle of the bakery, her girls surrounding her. I can tell, even from here, that she’s upset. That bakery is her home. The large windows in front are perfect for my viewing pleasure from a distance.
Wood surrounds those windows that are painted dark green. Pink-orange awnings span the entire shop. The door is a dark-brown wood with a shining gold handle. It’s so fucking girlie and so Lainey-Rose.
I don’t want to see this place closed, and I don’t want to watch her walk away. But she made her choice, and I made mine. Which is bullshit, because I made the wrong fucking one.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and as much as I would like to continue watching her, I need to take it. Tugging it out of my pocket, I slide my thumb across the screen without even looking at the caller ID.
“Viking,” I grunt.
“I don’t like anything about this situation.”
What I don’t like is that I have not the first fucking clue who is on the other end of this phone call. I begin to shift the device away from my ear so I can look at the number when the voice continues to speak.
“It’s Paul. I sat quietly at that meeting, but make no mistake, I’m going to be running the family soon enough. Lainey will be at my side.”
“You’re calling me because?” I ask.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I try to figure out how I’m going to approach this. I want to tell him to fuck right off. In fact, my brain screams at me to do that. I want to tell him that I just fucked his fiancée several times. I tasted her, felt her, and made her scream my name.
But I don’t say any of that.
I don’t say a fucking word. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not looking for a fight. Plus, I’d like to continue fucking Lainey for a few more weeks. If he knew I was doing that, he definitely would take her away from us sooner rather than later.
I need this month.
And then I might need another one.
If I’m being totally fucking honest.
“I saw the way you looked at Lainey. She’s not yours.”
I smirk, thankful that he can’t see me right now. I would definitely not be able to keep a straight face, because fuck him. Fuck him all the way in the goddamn ass. I have to press my lips together, trying not to smart off or tell him that.
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. She signed the fucking contract.”
He clears his throat. “I know you’re staying with her. I just want to remind you that she’s not yours.”
Ah, so there it is. He’s insecure. I almost laugh, but I don’t, because I don’t want to piss him off any more than he already is. I want him to leave me the fuck alone. I want him to leave Lainey alone, too. In fact, I think I would be okay if he were dead.
“I’m doing my job,” I state. “So you need to worry about your fucking self. Anything else?” I ask.
There is a moment of silence before he clears his throat. “Just reminding you,” he says.
“No need,” I snap.
Instead of saying anything else—anything that could piss him off and ruin the relationship between them and our club—I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket. I will never answer a call from that number again. Fuck Paul. Fuck him wholly and fully.
I keep watching the women at the shop. They’re all waving their arms around as they talk animatedly. It’s cute as fuck. And as my eyes find Lainey, well, as I cannot tear my gaze away from her, I wonder what the hell I’m doing.
I should claim her.
Keep her.
Contracts and rules be damned, because when you die, when your life is over, that shit does not matter, not in the fucking slightest. I could end Paul tomorrow, and all I would have to do is deal with Lorenzo.
Who is easy enough.
Sure, he’s a hard-ass, but I am fairly confident he’d be willing to make some kind of deal. Though he may not look too highly on a second murder of one of his men. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tip my chin slightly and look at the front window of the shop.
The women appear happy, and I let that soak in because I wish it could stay that way. I’ve been standing across the street, watching customers and old ladies go in and out of this bakery for weeks, but right now, just them in there, it hits differently. Maybe because this is the end.
This is the end of a goddamn fucking era.