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“We can. Together.”
Savannah licked her lips and pulled herself close to me. “I know and we will, but right now I am really fucking tired of talking Charlie. Take me upstairs, Charlie. I need you. Now.”
That was all I needed to hear. I turned to lock the door, and then I grabbed my woman in my arms and carried her up the stairs. I didn’t know how this would work or if it could. All I knew was that I needed her with me and nothing else mattered.
We would figure it all out later.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Savannah ~ 3 months later
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Charlie said.
I looked across the bike at Charlie before I climbed on behind him. Broad shouldered, his black hair beautifully mussed and his gray eyes glistening with satisfaction, he stood tall with a smile on his face.
“We don’t have to go,” he said. “We could always go back inside.”
I stood rooted in indecision, and then his lips pulled into a smile as he reached for my hands. “What are you so nervous about? We’re just going to see the Ashbys, loud and drunk and Irish as fuck. A lot like my family. Only more proper.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t deny the anxiety that boiled in my gut at the thought of facing down Jasper and Sadie, of seeing Maisie again. Things were different, but not all that different. “I don’t know why, Charlie, but I am nervous, okay?”
He gave my hands a supportive squeeze and tugged me around the bike so he could wrap his arms around me.
“A lot has changed over the past few months, Savannah. A lot. You’re not the same woman you were when I found you. You’re stronger. Hotter. You have more meat on your bones.”
I smacked his arm, and he laughed. “And most of all, you’re not just the background player in your father’s game, not some pawn in your brother’s. You make the rules now and they need to know that.”
I nodded. “I know you’re right, but this feels like…a lot.” I’d spent the past few months reorganizing and renaming what was left of my father’s organization.
I shook off the Rhymer name and took my mother’s maiden name. Savannah O’Connor had a nice ring to it; it was a proper Irish name that didn’t hold the stain of my previous life. I made plenty of changes and it felt damn good to see what I had done. Then why was I so afraid of the Ashbys?
“It’s not a lot; it’s just something you have to do. This is part of the business, and they need to know how shit’s gonna be moving forward. You can do this, Vannah. I know you can.”
It shouldn’t, but his reassurance bolstered my confidence. I knew I could do it, but hearing Charlie say it out loud made me believe it.
“I can. I know I can.”
“That’s my girl.” He gave my ass a smack and hopped on his bike, holding a helmet out for me before I climbed on behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I loved riding on the back of his bike, holding him tight with the wind whipping in my hair as we flew across the pavement. “Ready?”
My hands slid from his waist down to his cock, giving a quick squeeze since he couldn’t hear me over the roar of his bike. He threw a kiss over his shoulder and gunned the engine. I was ready.
As we pulled through the gates of Ashby Manor, my confidence might have wavered a bit, but it never faltered. With Charlie’s hand grasping mine, we followed the well-dressed Thomas into the parlor room where the entire Ashby clan had gathered. I may have felt overwhelmed, but staring at them all, I knew without a doubt I was ready.
Ready, willing and able to do this. To be the woman I was meant to be. Even though my heart was beating out of my chest.
“Savannah Rhymer,” Sadie practically drawled, bouncing an adorable redheaded baby in her arms. “This is a surprise.”
I sucked in a deep breath and took a step forward with a smile on my face. “You’re looking well, Sadie. It’s Savannah O’Connor now, and who is this?”
That question brought a bright smile to her face, and she held the adorable little girl up for my inspection. She had her mother Bonnie’s fiery red hair and Cal’s deep green eyes. “This is Ava Rose Ashby. Isn’t she perfect?” Sadie held the baby girl out, and I accepted her with a nervous smile.
“She’s gorgeous.” And she was. At just five months old, the little girl was wide-eyed and curious. And holy shit, she smelled divine. “Ava Rose, huh? That’s beautiful.”
“I think so,” she said, her green gaze studying me, probably assessing me to determine if I was friend or foe.
