Chapter 1
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— Indira —
The Venom Riders clubhouse was quieter than usual for a Thursday evening. Only a few bikes were parked out front, including Dutch’s custom Harley with the distinctive flame detail.
I’d texted Dutch, but he hadn’t responded. Probably in church with his brothers, handling club business. Maybe we could have a quiet dinner, just the two of us.
I pushed through the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of leather and beer washing over me. The main room was empty except for the prospect wiping down tables behind the bar. He looked up and gave me a nervous nod.
“Hey, Miss. Dutch is, uh...” Jimmy’s face went red. “He’s in his office.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” I headed toward the back hallway where Dutch’s private office was. The door was closed, but I could hear voices. Low murmurs.
I raised my hand to knock.
A woman’s breathy moan filtered through the door, followed by Dutch’s familiar grunt of satisfaction. My hand froze in mid-air.
“God, you feel so good,” Dutch’s voice, rough with arousal. “Been thinking about this pussy all day.”
My stomach dropped to my feet. This couldn’t be happening. Not Dutch. Not my Dutch, who texted me good morning andgoodnight every single day, who called just to hear my voice in between those texts, who looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, who’d been talking about us taking a trip to the mountains next month.
The woman—whoever she was—let out a pornographic moan that echoed through the thin door. “Harder, Prez. Show me how a real man fucks.”
My vision blurred. I should leave. I should turn around and walk out of here with whatever dignity I had left.
Instead, I reached for the door handle.
It turned easily under my palm. The door swung open to reveal Dutch, jeans around his ankles, driving into a blonde woman I recognized as one of the club girls. Candy or Sugar, or Crystal, or something equally ridiculous. She was perched on the edge of his desk, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fake tits bouncing with each thrust.
They were so absorbed in their performance that it took a few seconds for them to notice me standing in the doorway.
Dutch saw me first. He froze mid-thrust, his steel gray eyes going wide. “Indira... fuck. You’re supposed to be—”
“In Atlanta until tomorrow,” I finished, my voice surprisingly steady. “I can see I’m interrupting something important.”
The blonde—Crystal, I remembered now—had the audacity to smirk at me. She made no move to cover herself. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the audience.
“Bad timing, sweetheart,” she purred, running her hands down his chest possessively. “You could have waited a few minutes until we’d finished.”
The casual cruelty of her words hit me like a slap. There was no guilt on her face, no shame, no “oh no, we got caught.” This wasn’t some heat-of-the-moment mistake.
Dutch finally pulled out of her. I caught a glimpse of the condom and felt a sick rush of relief that at least he’d been smartenough for that—and yanked up his jeans. His face showed annoyance, not remorse. “Indira, let me explain—”
“Explain what?” I stepped into the office, my legs somehow still functioning despite feeling like they were made of concrete. “Explain that while I was in Atlanta missing you, you were here fucking club whores on your desk? The same desk you’ve fucked me on multiple times.”
“She’s not a whore,” Dutch said, and the fact that this was his main concern made my chest burn with rage. “Crystal provides services for the club. It’s not personal.”
“Services.” The word tasted like acid in my mouth. “And what exactly do I provide, Dutch? What’s my service to the club?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s different. You’re my woman.”
“Am I?” I looked between him and Crystal, who was now lazily getting dressed like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Because it seems like she’s more your woman than I am.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Dutch said, buckling his belt. The dismissive tone in his voice was somehow worse than walking in on them. “This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just stress relief.”
“Stress relief.” I nodded slowly, feeling something cold and final settle in my chest. “Right. Of course.”
