“Yeah, I know of her. Last I heard she was at boarding school or something,” Myles says.
Cruiser nods. “She was. Last year she started her freshman year at Harvard studying law.”
“You got a name?” Jett asks.
“Better than that.” He tosses a photograph onto the table in front of us and my heart lurches in my chest. I peer down at the face staring back at me, forced to do a double take becausethere isnofucking way I’m seeing this right.
Sure enough, those beautiful blue eyes I’ve been thinking about since earlier gaze back up at me, those full plump pink lips stretching into a wide smile, and her rich chestnut brown hair cascades like a waterfall around her shoulders.
What the fuck?
Sheis Watson’s daughter?
This has to be a fucking joke.
Something immediately sours inside me as I stare down at the photograph, like I’m looking at her in a totally different light, because looking at her is like looking straight at her fucking father.
“Name’s Kaia Watson. She’s nineteen,” Cru tells us.
“Wait,Kaia?” Mac asks from the far end of the table. Mac’s one of three of our prospects hoping to be patched in in the near future. He looks like he just stepped out of some nineties teen drama, all wispy blonde hair and boyish charm, but he’s a good kid and he’ll make a damn fine asset to this club one of these days. “Shit, she’s Sofia’s best friend. She talks about her all the time,” he continues.
“She’s fucking gorgeous,” Jett comments, studying the photo closer, and for some reason my fists clench at the thought of him anywhere near her. He drops the photo back onto the table.
I pick it up to take a closer look. There’s no denying her beauty, though the photo in front of me doesn’t do her justice because in person she’s a fucking knock-out.
“What can we do when she’s a thousand miles away in Boston?” Jett asks.
“She’s not in Boston,” I say, and a dozen sets of eyes turn to me. “She’s here in Stillwater.”
“Trust Don Juan over there to have seen her first. I swear you have these chicks on radar, man,” Alex teases beside Mac.
Ray, our oldest and last remaining founding member chuckles beside me.
“You got any background on her?” Myles asks.
“She attended boarding school from the age of eleven. The perfect student, top of her class throughout school. Like Kill said, she’s back in town. Apparently, she dropped out of Harvard a couple days ago. Only ever had one boyfriend from what little information I could gather, lasted only a couple months. She doesn’t have many friends except for Sofia and she largely keeps to herself, not much of a social life,” Cru explains.
He continues talking but his voice slowly fades into the background as my eyes return to the photo.
How the fuck can she be the daughter of someone like him?
Is this all one big plan? The timing of her showing up here and bumping into me twice in less than twenty-four hours is too much of a coincidence, surely? Stillwater is small, but it’s notthatsmall.
Is this one of her father’s ways of getting to my club. Because that is exactly the kind of shit he’d pull, using his daughter to do the dirty work, using her to fuck with us.
“So, what do we do with her?” Cru asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
That’s when an idea hits me out of nowhere.
“I know exactly what we do,” I announce, leaning forward in my seat. “We need something to keep Watson off our backs, right? Well, I’m pretty damn sure he wouldn’t want any photos of his precious daughter going viral.”
“What’ve you got in mind?” Myles asks.
“She already knows me, which already gives me an advantage. Won’t take much to get her to let her guard down. I just need to snap a couple naughty photos and drop them on his desk. The threat of them going wide will force his hand and he won’t have a choice but to lay off us.”
Myles folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t like it. We don’t bring women into club business. She’s an innocent in all this.”
Innocent?She’s his fucking daughter. Screw innocent.
