Damon Blackwell.
He’s all a front, nothing real about him.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Marley:Sweet dreams, old man.
I smile in the darkness.
Me:Sweet dreams, Small Town.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I actually believe they might be.
Chapter Fifteen
NITRO
The Day Before the Gala
Anxiety sits heady in my chest like a fist wrapped around my lungs, squeezing tighter with every breath I take. Tomorrow night is the gala. Tomorrow night I’ll watch Marley walk into that ballroom in the burgundy dress that makes my brain short-circuit, and I’ll have to pretend this is still fake. That every touch, every smile, every whispered word is part of this ridiculous arrangement.
It stopped being fake somewhere between the coffee shop and the clubhouse. Between practice dates and apartment visits. Between the moment Marley looked at my brothers with genuine warmth instead of fear, and the instant she kissed me back before pulling away.
I grip the Honda’s steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white against the black leather. The bouquet of wildflowers on the passenger seat, purple asters, yellow daisies, and white baby’s breath, slides slightly as I take a corner.Queenie’s favorites. I make this drive every month, sometimes twice if she calls and says she’s bored, but today feels different.
Today, I need her wisdom like I need oxygen.
The desert stretches out on either side of the highway, all burnt sienna and dusty gold in the afternoon light. Behind me, the rumble of Harleys fills the air. Sin, Ghost, Bear, Koa, Mace, Warden, Hash, Axel, Flint, Deek, Prospects Will and Liam are following in formation, and of course, Ro is tailing the rear in her car. Our monthly pilgrimage to Sunset Manor. It’s tradition now. Started with me visiting Queenie after she moved in, andhas evolved into the whole club making older people’s day once a month.
We’re good at a lot of things—running businesses, moving gold, protecting what’s ours.
But bringing joy to forgotten people? That might just be what we’re best at.
I catch Sin’s reflection in my rearview mirror. The way that man has changed since Victoria came into his life is like watching granite learn to smile. He’s still the same stoic president, still carries the weight of every decision as if it’s carved into his bones, but there’s something softer around the edges now. Something that looks a hell of a lot like happiness.
That’s what I want with Marley.
Not fake.
Real.The thought makes my stomach clench.
I’m forty-three years old, she’s twenty-nine. I’m a biker and a billionaire living two separate lives, and she’s a woman who just got her heart shattered by a man who didn’t deserve her in the first place. The age gap alone should make me pump the brakes, but every time I try to convince myself this is a bad idea, I remember the way she laughs. The way she looks at me like I’m not just the VP or billionaire Damon Blackwell, but as if she sees all of me and isn’t running.
Yet.
Probably because she doesn’t knowall of me, you dumbass.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, so I glance down quickly before focusing back on the road.
Marley:Good luck at the retirement village today. Tell Queenie I said hi, even though we haven’t met yet. And try not to let the old ladies corrupt you too much. ;)
A smile tugs at my lips despite the anxiety still churning in my gut.She remembered.Of course, she remembered. Imentioned it once in passing during one of our late-night text conversations, and she filed it away like it mattered.
Because to her, it does matter.
Everything about me matters to her, and that’s the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I’ve felt in years.
I don’t text back while driving. I learned that lesson the hard way with the Siri incident, which still makes me want to throw my phone into oncoming traffic. But I make a mental note to respond later. Something that doesn’t sound like I’m already so gone for her that I can barely think straight.
