The man behind the desk speaks up before I can. “I’d like a few minutes alone with her,” he says abruptly. His tone is all business, like I’m just another client.
The other two men glance at him. A look passes between them that I can’t fully understand. Taking in their faces I see the family resemblance, and I wonder if Owen is the older man’s son, or maybe a nephew.
When they don’t make a move to leave, he speaks again, more sternly this time. “Now.”
My uncle responds, “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I can tell he doesn’t like Owen’s tone.
Something in Owen’s tone makes me look again. He might be wearing a shirt and tie, but his manner is more biker than accountant. As my eyes drift to the walls of his office andalight on a photograph of a group of men in cuts with bikes in the background, I realize he’s one of them too. I finally find my words and my courage at the same time. “It’s fine,” I say, because talking to one biker without a cut is better than talking with a room full of them hanging on my every word.
The three of them reluctantly shuffle out of the room, leaving Owen standing behind his desk and me still standing right inside the door.
“Are you here because you want to be?” he asks.
“What?” I exclaim, surprised this is his first question.
“Your uncle requested this meeting. I want to know if you came because you chose to or because he forced you.”
“No man forces me to do anything. Get that in your head from the jump.”
He jerks his chin towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Then you want to be my wife, is that it?”
I edge forward and we sit down at the same time. “I don’t want to be any man’s wife. I came because I want my inheritance,” I tell him. “And apparently the only way to get it is to get married.”
“So, you’re okay about the marriage but not particularly set on me being the husband. Did you have someone else in mind?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t even know that getting married was a requirement until yesterday. I don’t know anything about you.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“My uncle told me you were an accountant,” I say, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
“I am an accountant.”
“He didn’t mention the part about you being in the Sons of Rage MC.”
Something disapproving flashes onto his face and is gone before I get a good look at it. “Well, he shouldn’t have left that out,” he says. “I’m the founder’s son and a club officer.”
“You’re their club treasurer, right?”
“Yeah, you must be the smart one in your family.”
I glare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you’re smart to have worked that out. My family calls me the smart one and I’ve never thought of it as an insult.”
Some of my anger melts away but not much.
“I walked in here expecting to meet a mild-mannered numbers cruncher my uncle thought would make a good husband and instead I find a member of the Sons of Rage with his father and brother backing him up.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he says patiently. “A lie of omission is still a lie. But that’s between you and your uncle. I didn’t lie or mislead you in any way. And I’m not ashamed of being a biker. So, don’t expect an apology from me.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to apologize,” I stammer before snapping my mouth closed. It doesn’t take much for thishandsome bastard to throw me off balance. I need to be careful what I say.
“Look, you grew up in the MC world,” he says. “You shouldn’t be so freaked out just by having a casual conversation with me.”
“I’m not freaked out,” I shoot back. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.” I lean forward. “I don’t have a problem with bikers. I have a problem with the Sons, Savage Legion and Dark Slayers. The three of you colluded to put the asshole who burned down my grandfather’s clubhouse in charge of his territory.”
“Yeah, about that. We didn’t understand what was going on with Viper until it was too late. I do apologize for that.”
