“Not particularly,” he says, but he’s listening. I see it in the way his shoulders tense, the way he’s stopped looking at the window to focus on me instead.
“Too bad, you’re getting it anyway.” I clap a hand on his shoulder, and the weight of it seems to ground him. “Stop overthinking it. Millie’s not some delicate flower who’s gonna break if you actually talk to her like a man instead of dancing around your feelings like a teenage boy at prom.”
“It’s not that simple,” Will protests, and there’s genuine anguish in his voice now. “Her father works with the club. Jonas trusts us, trusts Sin. If I mess this up, if I pursue her and it goes south—”
“Then you deal with it like a man,” I interrupt because I’ve heard this song and dance before. Hell, I’ve sung that shit myself. “But you know what’s worse than taking a shot and missing? Never taking the shot at all. Trust me on that one.”
Will is quiet for a moment, processing. Then he looks at me with eyes that are far too knowing for someone his age. “Is this about Marley?”
The mention of her name sends that familiar warmth spreading through my chest. It’s been six days since her birthday party, six days since everything between us clicked into place. Six days of her thriving at Blackwell Entertainment Group,my fucking company, though she still doesn’t know that particular truth. And God only knows how she hasn’t caught on. I mean, I stay out of sight, but still, there are so many ways in which this could all go south.
“Everything’s about Marley these days,” I admit, and I don’t even try to hide the smile that pulls at my lips. “She started her new job a week ago, and brother, she’s fucking thriving. Came home last night practically glowing because her campaignpitch got approved. The team loves her. She’s finally working somewhere that appreciates her talent instead of smothering it.”
“That’s good,” Will says, his sincerity coming out. “She deserves it. Especially after what that ex of hers put her through.”
At the mention of him, my hand tightens around the beer bottle. Just thinking about that piece of shit makes my blood pressure spike. The way he tore Marley down made her doubt herself, weaponized her body against her—
“Easy, Nitro,” Deek calls out, reading the tension in my shoulders from across the room. “We all hate the guy. No need to shatter glass over it.”
I force myself to relax, setting the bottle down on the nearest table before I do exactly that. “Yeah. It gets me every time knowing that fucker did a number on her. And watching her come back from it, watching her remember who she is and what she’s capable of…” I shake my head, that warmth in my chest expanding until it feels as though it might crack my ribs. “It’s fucking incredible.”
“You love her.” It’s not a question when Will says it. It’s a statement. A fact as undeniable as gravity.
“Yeah,” I say simply, because what else is there to say? “I love her.”
“Then maybe take your own advice,” Will says with a small smile. “Stop overthinking. Just let yourself be with her. All of you.”
If only it were that simple.The thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth, souring that warmth because there’s still the matter of my secret identity. The billions I’ve been hiding. The fact that I engineered her dream job at a company I own.
The fact that I’m still lying to her, even if it is by omission.
“Hey, Nitro.” Ghost’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. I look up to find him standing in the doorway tohis tech den, his expression serious in that way that makes my stomach drop. “Got a minute? Need to talk to you and Sin.”
Something in his tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This isn’t a casual hey-check-this-out conversation. This is a we-have-a-problem conversation.
Already moving toward the Chapel, I say, “Let me grab Sin.”
I find our president sitting at the back of the clubhouse at a table, going over paperwork with that look of intense concentration that means he’s probably dealing with some headache regarding club finances or underworld politics. He glances up when I tap on the table to gain his attention, and whatever he sees in my expression makes him set down his pen immediately.
“Ghost needs us,” I say. “Sounded urgent.”
Sin’s on his feet in seconds, following me toward the Chapel. Ghost is already there, laptop open on the table, fingers flying across the keyboard with that precise, methodical speed that would be mesmerizing if I wasn’t so fucking worried about what he’s found.
“What’s going on?” Sin asks, closing the Chapel door behind us. The soundproofing immediately muffles the noise from the main room, cocooning us in the kind of privacy that means serious club business.
Ghost doesn’t look up from his screen. “Someone’s been poking around Nitro’s identities.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. “What?”
“Started noticing it about a week ago,” Ghost continues, his voice calm despite the bombshell he’s dropping. “Nothing major at first, just some irregular search patterns, queries about Blackwell Entertainment Group’s ownership structure, and some digging into public records. I thought it might be standard corporate espionage at first, maybe a competitor doingdue diligence, but then they started cross-referencing with Las Vegas Defiance MC.”
“Fuck.” The word comes out as a breath, barely audible.
Sin’s expression has gone hard, his mismatched eyes sharp as broken glass. “Can you trace it?” Sin asks. “Find out who’s digging?”
“I’m working on it,” Ghost says, finally looking up from the laptop. “Whoever it is, they’re good. Not as good as me, but good enough to cover their tracks better than your average PI. They’re using VPNs, proxy servers, the whole nine yards. I’ll crack it eventually, but it’s going to take time.”
“How deep have they gotten?” I ask, and I hate how rough my voice sounds. How exposed I feel, like someone’s peeled back my skin and left all my vulnerabilities on display.
