Maybe one day I’ll have that level of self-belief. I’m getting there, discovering new things about myself daily and finding my confidence blossoming in whole new ways.
“Hey, gorgeous, want to dance?”
I look at Mal in surprise. “I didn’t think this would be your kind of music.”
He’s dressed in his usual black band t-shirt and ripped black jeans, his dark hair falling over one eye, and he laughs. “It’s not, but you’re watching Kirill as if you want to have a go yourself.”
“I can’t really dance.” My voice is low and embarrassed.
“Yeah, anyone can dance. Do you know the secret?”
I shake my head.
“It’s as cheesy as fuck, but as the saying goes, dance as if no one is watching. Just… let the music flow over you and take you. Don’t give a shit about anyone else, and you can do it.”
I suck in a breath as he takes my hand and leads me into the middle of the room. Two more people have joined, and it’s turning into an impromptu dance floor.
Mal holds my hips in his big, warm hands and sways to the beat, and I follow his lead, just swaying, and soon, I begin to find my rhythm.
I used to love dancing as a little girl. Sometimes I made up routines to show my parents. Wow, that’s a memory I’d all but forgotten. Of course, dancing was strictly forbidden in the commune. As I move my body, the muscle memory of all those routines I memorized kicks in, and I find I can do this. And I love it.
Mal laughs, and I glance at him, worried for a moment. Do I look stupid?
“Baby, you can dance! I don’t know where you got the idea you couldn’t.”
I feel so much happiness in this moment. A bubble of pure joy fizzes up inside me, like the bubbles in the champagne we have on ice.
The door opens again, and I barely notice as the music changes to something new, but then Mal stops moving and gives a nod to someone behind me, and I turn to see Vani’s dad, Jack-the-blood, and all his men.
They make a truly intimidating sight in their denim and leather, and they’re so big and muscular. Many of them are older, too. Jack is the most intimidating of all. I fancy that he looks like a pirate, as if he should be on a boat somewhere stealing gold, and women’s hearts, too.
“Come on, let’s go say thank you.” Mal leads me from the floor and over to where Jack is now standing with Vani and the Vipers.
Cain joins us with Roman, and we move off into the kitchen to escape the noise and the crowds.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Roman says once we’re all crowded in the smaller space.
Jack shrugs. “You don’t need to thank us. You paid for a service, and we delivered. Anyway, I don’t want any assholes threatening this place, not when it’s now my daughter’s home.”
Vani beams at him, then throws her arms around him and hugs him. “Thanks, Dad, you’re the best.”
The dark-haired, pale biker called Ghost is standing back, and I glance at him. He reminds me of myself in some ways. Not how he looks, of course, but he’s closed off. Quiet. He seems as if he’s locked in his own head a lot of the time, and that’s how I was when I first arrived here.
I wonder if he’s haunted by ghosts of the past, too. He catches me looking and turns his light hazel gaze on me. For an odd moment, there’s a beat of understanding between us, as if two souls have seen something recognizable in one another, then he breaks the spell and looks away. Ghost is a fitting name for him, not just because he looks like one, but because I’m damn sure he’s haunted by them, the same way I was.
“Aren’t you worried about the attack on the facility being traced back to you?” Roman is asking Jack.
Vani’s dad laughs, deep and resonant. “Fuck, no. Do you know how many people want to go up against a one-percenter club?”
Roman shakes his head.
Jack swipes his hand over his beard. “I’ll put it another way. Do you know which organized crime group the FBI says is the most dangerous?”
Again, Roman shakes his head.
“Bikers. One-percenters,” Jack supplies. “Now, do you know why?”
Roman smiles. “Clearly not.”
