Before I could make the decision, the bikes slowed in front of a black, wrought iron gate. I watched the broad one click a button on the dash of his bright red Ducati.
My father had taught me the names of every major bike company before I learned the alphabet. And I’d never expected that knowledge to help me out in anything more than just trivia night.
But I knew a Ducati meant one thing: money. Lots of it.
The bikes weaved past the gate and onto a long, gravel driveway. As the gate closed behind us, the lean one turned to make sure it shut before picking up speed — letting the stones under the wheels kick up.
We must be close now.
And then it appeared as we broke through the trees. A perfectly manicured lawn and bold, English hedges led my eyes to the towering mansion. Even from here, I could tell just how huge it was. The windows were dark, dim lights shining through just a handful of them.
The outside, however, was lit by a few strategically placed lamps shining up on the light limestone.
My jaw dropped under the helmet. It was a stunning house, despite the ivy digging its roots into the ancient foundations.
I could only imagine how grand it looked in the day.
What the fuck were these vagabonds doing in a place like this?
My throat tightened as the bikes slowed to a stop by the front entrance, towering limestone columns imposing over us.
It was the type of place you’d expect in the old English countryside, not deep in the woods of upstate New York. More than anything, it was fucking bizarre.
But there were more pressing issues, like who exactly were these two saviors of mine.
Tapping my arm, the biker I’d been clinging to the entire ride broke my daze. I took the hint, heaving myself off of the bike’s tiny backseat.
I nearly lost my balance as I tried to reconnect with the earth, the loose, round stones under my feet not helping matters.
A firm hand grabbed my forearm to steady me. “Careful there, Princess.” The broad one had appeared at my side, his Ducati already parked.
Rolling my eyes, I pulled off my helmet and let my red hair spill over my shoulders. I was quick to smooth out the helmet hair I was sure I had, more self conscious about these bikers' opinions than I should be.
How bad can they be if they live here?
It was a stupid question. Gabriel lived in a stunning apartment in the city center. And he was more than an asshole. Plenty of rich people were bastards. These two weren’t different.
Shaking my head, I stared up at the mansion. “So, how the fuck did you two rogues end up…”
Just as the words left my mouth, the two bikers pulled off their helmets. Underneath were two charming smiles, two chiseled jaws.
And two women.
5
KIERA
My brow furrowed,as I recalculated everything I’d just seen. The big, burly “men” who’d saved me weren’t men at all.
Seeing them in the pale moonlight, I felt silly for assuming they had been in the first place. After all, had I ever known a man as strong, tall, confident, or helpful as this? But I couldn't help laughing — if Gabe found out he’d gotten his ass handed to him by two women, he’d besopissed.
“What’s wrong? You thought women couldn’t drive?” The lean one — the one I’d spotted at the bar — took the helmet from my hands and set it on the back of her bike. Looking at her jacket now, I realized it was the same one I’d spotted across the bar, the one I’d wanted to ask about.
“What? No!” Heat flushed my cheeks as I stammered for a response. “I just— I?—”
“Relax. I’m fucking with you.” The cocky grin curving her lips took me back to the bar in an instant — the moment before Gabe arrived, the tiny universe that existed in the tension of our eye contact.
What was that?
