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Butch can hear the difference in my typing. He looks up from his computer, waiting for confirmation. I give a slow nod, letting him know I’ve finished it. There’s no way we’ll vocalize anything with Trent sitting in the room with us.
Trent must sense the shift in our work as well. He snorts with disdain. I wish his hairy testicles would drop already. It’s getting old waiting for Trent to man up and say what he’s been dying to say to me all day.
Naturally, I give him a little shove to move along his pathetic hide. I wouldn’t be me without overstepping boundaries.
“Best stop grinding your molars unless you want to pay out the ass for a few dentist visits,” I taunt, my eyes not leaving my computer screen.
“I don’t know what she sees in you,” he says in disgust.
“Doesn’t matter what she sees in me. I have her.” I lift my fixed gaze to his, wanting to drive home the point. “And I sure as fuck am not letting her go. She’s mine.”
“You honestly think she’s going to be satisfied with you long-term?” Trent asks flippantly, looking down his nose at me. “A corrupt biker who plays off his hacking skill as some noble cause? Please. You’re not part of her world. You’re a fleeting phase, nothing more.”
Butch’s keystrokes halt as he pushes back his chair. He stands from his seat and rounds the table toward us, anticipating a physical altercation on the horizon. I raise a hand when I feel him behind me, halting him. I’m in full control of this situation.
There’s no way this beady-eyed bastard will get the best of me. “I agree. Simone is in a league of her own—refined and regal, like the queen she is. But you underestimate her, Trent. And you sure as fuck underestimate me.
“You made assumptions you could screw around and she’d accept it. What you never considered was, a queen kneels to no one, unless she wants to. She didn’t want to yield to you when you were an unfaithful dog. A queen only wants a king who’ll see her as an equal and build her up. She doesn’t need a fool to pull her down.”
Orange nostrils flare. Trent’s ready to snap like the weak twig he is.
I press on. “Unlike you, I see her as the badass she is and nurture the fuck out of it. I don’t dampen her fire. I pour the gas on it and watch her wield those flames at those who piss her off. I’m her king, her man, her everything. You best remember your place is in her past, or I’m gonna share more than words with you. Got it?”
Trent leans forward in his chair, gripping the arm rests like he needs to anchor himself to his seat to avoid throwing hands. I wish he would throw a punch—I’d settle this shit real fast.
No such luck, though. Trent only glowers at me murderously. If he’s trying to intimidate me, he needs to up his game. Insecure men with fragile egos are laughable and go down easily.
“Simone prefers a certain lifestyle, one she won’t find living in the foothills of Colorado. She’ll tire of your crassness and lack of culture, and I’ll be waiting for her to return to the comforts she has grown accustomed to.”
His words nick my armor. My smile falls, all my bravado gone.
Our differences have always plagued my insecurities, questioning if I’m enough for her. She’s a white-collar queen from a wonderful family, and I’m the hipster biker from the wrong side of the tracks.
We’re opposites in many ways, but our variations aren’t a hindrance. Our diversity complements. We fit in each other’s crevices, filling in where the other lacks until we’re one complete piece, as opposed to opposite ends.
Trent’s argument is bullshit. Simone doesn’t need to change for me, nor I for her. We’ll embrace our individuality, as we have since the moment we met.
Simone doesn’t care I bleed in code, occasionally break some laws for the greater good. She doesn’t care I demand her submission when intimate. As long as I can stand beside her in my leather cut and biker boots with her hand in mine, the fuck with all the rest.
I don’t care if my woman surrounds herself in all the sophisticated crap that shimmers in the world. If it makes her happy, I’m happy. She’s more than materialistic arm candy to me. She’s a good woman, hardworking and loyal. And one hundred percent all mine.
My lips pull up in one corner of my mouth, smugness returning with full force. “It’s sad you think Simone needs a man who mirrors her likes, and it’s disgusting you think she’s a materialist snob who looks down on others who work with their hands.”
“She’s made for the finer things in life, not for roughing it with the likes of you.”
A low chuckle breaks free of my lips. “You forget Simone’s roots are anchored in blue collar blood. Rough is what she knows.”
Trent flinches like I flicked something dirty on him. “Doesn’t matter where she came from. Her parents and sister may have decided not to advance themselves into the corporate world, but Simone is above the simple life and manual labor.”
Now I’m pissed. Fuck all what he says about me. He’s insulting my woman’s family—my family. That shit doesn’t get brushed off.
I lean forward in my seat, getting right in Trent’s personal bubble. He screws up his face in revulsion, leaning as far away from me as his chair will allow.Good.I want him uncomfortable in my presence.
“Watch what you say about the Hollands. Simone’s parents worked themselves to the bone to give their daughters a better life—there’s nothing but respect for those who give up their wants and needs for those of their children. And Jo, my MC first lady, is a fucking titan in the architectural engineering industry out in Colorado. Runs her own goddamn company in a male dominated field, rising above all of them. Say another word about any of them, and the whole Mercy Ravens conspiracy will rain down on you, with my woman leading the flock.”
Trent swallows hard, realizing he’s overstepped. “You’re twisting my words. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a life of comfort and opulence. Simone is not wrong in seeking it out. She enjoyed what I could provide her.”
How dare he insinuate my woman needs handouts from a man? This fucknut needs a reality check on how little he truly offers Simone.
