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Now, he wore his suits to the office and changed into jeans and a tee when leaving. He’d never attend the clubhouse in his suit again.
Grey had struggled with wearing the cut. The unwritten law was you wore your cut at all times. But in his job, he couldn’t. After speaking to Axel and Drake, he realised he’d be allowed to not wear it for the work he was doing. It had taken the weight off of Grey’s shoulders, as he’d not wanted to disrespect the MC.
Willow had teased him about how he was a prospect dating a princess, but he noticed the pride and happiness in her eyes. What Grey had done meant everything to her.
Without realising it, Grey had given her the world. She was undeniably happy. They’d even taken to looking for houses near Axel’s, as Willow saw no reason to hold back anymore. Neither did Grey. He’d booked them in for a weekend at Phoe’s house in Camden. There was an MC there. The Royal Bastards. And Grey had contacted Drake to see if he knew anything about them.
Drake had given him Warden’s, the President’s, number and told him to call ahead and let him know that he and Willow would be in the area.
Grey felt a little awkward getting permission from Warden to visit Phoe’s holiday home, but he’d done so. Warden had been an okay guy, a bit gruff and blunt, but once Grey had explained why he would be in Camden, Warden was fine.
Now Grey had the proposal planned.
He wanted time to wine and dine Willow, something they’d rarely been able to do. Their relationship had consisted of takeaways and restaurants, usually an hour away from the office, where they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew. Grey had booked Phoe’s plane to take them there with a champagne lunch for Willow on the way. And then he’d made a reservation at a beautiful restaurant Phoe had recommended.
Grey wasn’t one for public displays, so he planned to propose back in Phoe’s place after their meal. Phoe had a housekeeper who would decorate the house for him while they were at dinner.
He felt in his pocket. He’d been carrying the ring for ages, not willing to let it out of his sight, and every time he looked at it, a surge of love and excitement welled. They’d leave next weekend. Willow had already booked from the Friday to the Monday off, which Markin allowed the short notice.
Everything was planned down to the tiniest of details.
Grey was rudely brought back to reality by London slamming one hundred bucks down in front of him.
“Daydreaming about your lady?” London teased.
“Have you seen Willow? She’s any man’s dream woman,” Grey retorted as he picked up the notes and pocketed them.
“You’re a lucky asshole,” Max called from his desk.
Grey liked the way the floor space was set out. Each had their own office, with a large table in the middle of the room. They used that for quick briefings, but there were also a couple of meetings rooms spread out over the three floors of the building that Hawthorne’s owned. Everyone could each see one another throughout the room, and Grey learned that if they could shout at someone, they did. They were too lazy to get up and walk the few metres.
The only two nobody dared bellow at were Dylan and Davies. There was too much respect there.
“I think lucky asshole should take his winnings and treat the entire office to coffee,” Dylan said with a wicked grin.
“You got that fancy smancy coffee maker in the kitchen, and you want me to blow my hard-won winnings?” Grey demanded. “This could buy Willow a gift.”
“Oh boy, he’s pussy whipped!” Arturo shouted across the room.
“Proud of it. And you will be when you find the one!” Grey shot back.
“Jesus, grow a spine,” Max called from his office.
“Find yourself a woman, then come see me,” Grey retorted.
Dylan opened his mouth and then paled as Nick cut him off.
“Nine-one-nine!”
“Not me!” Arturo replied immediately.
“Forget it!” Niko added.
“What the hell?” Grey questioned as denials were bellowed from all directions.
Dylan turned to him with a decidedly nasty grin. “New boy gets it this time.”
“What’s a nine-one-nine?” Grey asked.
