“No, that’sexactlywhy you need to stay close. Figure out what she’s really after.” He stands, moving to the window that overlooks the main clubhouse floor. “She’s asking about Marcus.”
My blood runs cold.“What?”
“Yesterday, when you were handling the gold transfer, she asked Millie about him. Just dropped the name casual-like, wanted to know what happened to him.”
The poker chip stills in my fingers.Marcus.Christ!I should have seen this coming. Should have put precautions in place before agreeing to this whole damn interview.
“What did Millie tell her?”
“Nothing. Girl’s smart enough to know that’s not her story to tell. But Elizabeth didn’t just ask once and let it go. She pushed. Wanted details.”
Fuck.
This changeseverything.
If Elizabeth is digging into Marcus, if she knows something about what really happened…
“We can’t let her get close tothatstory,” I say, my voice harder than granite.
“Which is why you need to stop hiding and do your damn job, Pres. You brought her here to control the narrative. Youcan’tdo that from inside this room. No matter how sacred it is.”
Nitro’s right, and I hate him for it.
The whole point of bringing Elizabeth to the club was to show her who we really are, to make her see past the outlaw reputation to the family underneath. But if she’s asking about Marcus, if she knows more than she’s letting on, then this isn’t just about good PR anymore. This is about which version of the truth could come out and how that will affecteverythingwe’ve been working for.
“Fine,” I say, draining the rest of my whiskey. “I’ll talk to her. Keep her focused on how we want this to go.”
“Good. Because the rest of us can only keep her occupied for so long, this wasyouridea, remember? You said you were gonna keep your eye on her. Don’t let this get away from us, Pres.”
“Yeah… yeah, I hear you.”
Nitro nods and heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “For what it’s worth, I think she genuinely likes it here. Likes us. That could work in our favor,ifyou handle it right.”
The door begins to close behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ghost of Elizabeth’s laughter echoing from the main room. I hear her, probably charming my brothers with that sharp wit and unexpected vulnerability that’s been drivingme crazy since the moment she stepped out of her car, but it is soon snuffed out as the door closes, completely drowning out the noise.
She genuinely likes it here.
That should make me feel better, but instead, it makes everything worse. Because part of me, the part I’ve been trying to ignore, likes having her here too. Likes watching her fit seamlessly into our chaotic family. Likes the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
But if she’s asking about Marcus, then I need to be on my guard.
I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and letting the memory of the desert wash over me. The way she felt pressed against me, soft, warm, and perfectly responsive. The little gasp she made when I touched her, like she was as surprised by the heat between us as I was. The way she looked at me after, like she was seeing me for the first time.
Christ, I haven’t been able to get her out of my fucking mind.
Even now, knowing she might be playing an angle I don’t understand, my body responds to the memory of her. The scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the way she fit against me like she was made for it.
It’s been six years since Rebekka. Six years since I let myself feel anything real for someone. I’d convinced myself I was done with that shit, that the club was enough. That family and brotherhood were all I needed.
Then Elizabeth walked into my life, wearing leather pants and a spicy attitude, and suddenly I’m remembering what it feels like to want something, someone, so badly it makes my chest ache.
But I can’t afford to want her.
Not if she’s digging about Marcus.
Not if she has the power to destroy everything I’ve built.
The club has to come first.
