She wipes her face, taking a deep breath before stepping back. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
They’re the words that I was afraid of, so I release a steady breath before saying, “I think we got off on the wrong foot today. At least have some breakfast. Luna makes fresh bread every day, and there’s always plenty of sausages and bacon.”
She runs her fingers under her eyes like she’s doing her best to rub away any trace of tears. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because you remind me that even beautiful things need help once in a while.”
I pull the door open and wait for her to step out, then we head downstairs in silence.
We slow outside Axel’s office, and I turn to her. “Don’t give him shit, Remi. And remember, it’s Shadow in front of my brothers.” I knock on the door before she can argue.
We enter, and Axel leans back in his chair, his eyes assessing Remi for an uncomfortably long time before he points to the seat in front of his desk. I give her a gentle shove, and she goes to it, sitting down.
“I want your backstory,” he says.
She gives a nervous laugh. “We could be here for some time.”
“I ain’t messing,” he snaps.
“I was born on a wintery night in––”
“Are you taking the piss?” he barks then drags his eyes to me. “Is she taking the piss?”
“Remi,” I say, my tone warning.
“Jesus, relax. I’m no threat to your stupid club. I come from a broken home. No cops. No spies. No secrets. I’m running from my old life, that’s all. And I’ve fell on some bad luck.”
“What bad luck?” he demands.
“In case you hadn’t heard, I’m homeless. A street rat.” Her eyes flicker to me, and I realise she’s using the same words Sasha used.
“Why can’t you go back home?”
“My stepdad is a piece of shit. He’ll drag me down with him if I stick around.”
“Is he your only family?” Axel asks.
“Yes. I don’t know my dad, and my mum is dead.”
“You can stay here until you get back on your feet,” he tells her. “I’ll pay for you to work the bar, but you’ll also help around here, take care of the guys.”
“What does that mean?” she demands, folding her arms over her chest.
“Don’t worry, you’re not what I look for in a whore,” he says with a smirk. “You’ll clean up around the place, help cook or whatever.”
“Gender roles assigned,” she mutters.
“Or you can go sleep rough again,” he snaps. “Makes no difference to me, sweetheart.”
She relents, sighing. “Fine. I’ll be the clean-up girl. Anything else, boss?”
“Lose the attitude.”
She salutes him, and I almost laugh as she spins on her heel and heads for the door. “You sure she ain’t related to Kasey?” he asks as I follow her. “Same fucking attitude.”
I close the door and gently halt her, taking her wrist. “You heard what Sasha said?”
She pulls free. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep so you and her can . . . reacquaint.”
