Page 35 of Riding Bare

Instead of responding to her, I begin to walk away again, but she decides to say some more dumb shit. “I wonder if your Russian would like me better than you, too?”

“Are you seriously comparing the men I’ve been with to my father? That’s weird as hell and fucking gross.”

She shrugs a shoulder, her eyes bright, but there’s nothing behind them. She’s vacant and dumb, but I can tell she’s also mean. Whatever her agenda is, she’s not finished with it yet. And she’s trying really hard to get to me, to get me out of here, but I’m not biting.

I don’t bother waiting for her response. I don’t care enough about what she thinks or what she has to say to me. She’s pointless, and so is whatever she has to spew.

Leaving her alone in the bar, I head to the bedroom, Amos’s bedroom. I don’t know what the rest of the day is going to bring, and I shouldn’t hide from her, because then she’ll think she’s won something.

She hasn’t won a damn thing, but at the same time, I don’t want to waste my breath or my time on her or anyone else who thinks it’s cute to try to make a pregnant wife feel less than in any way. But as I sit and think about her words, something about what she said causes me to pause.

My Russian. How did she know?

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

DARE

Pulling up to the Russian’s estate, I kill my engine and look over to Cake. He lifts his brows at the sight of the gaudy-as-fuck mansion. I wonder what he thinks about seeing it all in its extravagance.

I know it’s beautiful, and I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous of it all. I’m not sure what I would do walking around a place like that, but I’m sure I could figure it out.

“Wild, yeah?” I ask.

Cake chuckles. “No fucking kidding.”

Climbing off our bikes, we walk up to the front door together. To my surprise, when the door opens, it’s Rustik on the other side, not one of his men. I open my mouth to ask him where his entourage is when his lips twitch into a smirk, and he beats me to it.

“It’s just us today,” he announces. “Your text seemed as if you needed this to be a private matter?”

“I don’t know how you got that from a text, but it’s appreciated,” I murmur. He takes a step back, his gaze flicking from me to Cake, who stands beside me, so I decide I should introduce them. “This is my father-in-law, Cake. Also, the president of the original chapter of our club.”

“Oh, the real boss,” he chuckles. “The father-in-law.”

Cake and I both laugh at his joke. As much as I’d like to say that’s bullshit, I know it’s not. Cake being the president of the original chapter is much bigger than him being Chassis’s father. I have to admit, though, that him being Chassis’s father is now higher to me than being president ever could be.

Cake walks into the mansion first, and I close the door behind us before following them as they make their way toward the dining room. There are several dishes set out, no doubt something absolutely fucking amazing. The few times I’ve eaten here, I have not walked away disappointed.

“Go ahead, sit. No soup today. Olivier salad to start. I had it catered.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

He hums. “Pelmeni, lamb shashlik, and then medovik for something sweet. Kuban-Vino red wine to drink—though don’t tell anyone, yeah? It’s illegal.”

“Holy shit,” Cake hisses.

Holy shit is right. There is a moment of silence, and then we begin to eat. I don’t think I’ve ever walked away hungry from Rustik’s table. If nothing else, he sure as fuck knows how to host a party.

He pours a glass of wine for each of us and then asks what exactly is happening and how he can help. I decide to stay out of the conversation until I’m needed.

This is something Cake wanted to set up, and I made it very clear that I didn’t want to be in the middle of it, but I will insert myself if I think Cake is going to fuck up the relationship we built.

Cake begins by telling him that Chassis is his daughter, then what Rustik’s man did to her. When he’s finished, he leans back, then gets to the point of this whole thing. I watch as he lifts his hands and places his palms on the table. He brushes the tablecloth, then clears his throat.

“You want me to do something with him?” Rustik asks.

“I’m not sure what I want. I’ve never been in this position before,” Cake states.