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“How old are you?” I gruffly demand.
She frowns, but then her lips turn up into a smirk. “Old enough,” she laughs. I hum but don’t say anything immediately. Instead, I watch her, waiting for her to answer me. “Twenty-one,” she says with a sigh. “My brother wants to be a prospect. He sent me here to try to get in.”
Maybe she doesn’t realize I’m not one of the Hell’s Souls. I reach for my pants and pull them on, then stand before I tug them over my ass and button them. Turning around, I look down at her. She’s unabashedly lying on her side, nothing covered, her body on full display.
“I’m not your way in, babe,” I say with a smirk.
She lets out a laugh. “Oh, I know that, Itch. My brother sent me here a few years ago. I haven’t seen him since. I’m happy to be rid of him, and there’s no way I would ever suggest him to these men. He’s not good enough to be a Soul.”
“What’s your name, babe?” I ask as I reach for my shirt and pull it on.
“Tempt,” she says, giving me a coy smile.
I fucking bet that’s her name, too. “Well, Tempt,” I murmur, “I gotta get back to my own place. Don’t belong here.”
“Come back anytime. It was fun. You’re fun,” she calls out.
Turning from her, I grab my boots, pull them on, then my cut before I walk out of the room. The clubhouse is quiet, but when I walk through the bar, I happen to see Bond perched at the end, a beer in his hand, his head dipped down.
Walking up to him, I touch his back with a slap of my palm. “We’ll talk soon?” I ask.
He turns his head, his eyes finding mine. He doesn’t seem like his usual self, but I don’t ask any questions. It’s not my business at all. Instead, my hand drops, and I take a step backward.
“Tempt treat you well?” he asks.
I arch a brow, my lips curving up into a grin. “Yeah, I think. Don’t quite remember it all.”
He smirks. “Good. We’ll talk soon,” he confirms.
I walk out of the Hell’s Souls, make my way toward my bike, and climb on. Staring at the clubhouse, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing. I’m betraying my club, my people, my wife. Because if I get caught, Raul can come back on the Devil’s Hellions, and it would be fucking ugly.
Have I just jeopardized my whole club because I want vengeance so badly that I can’t even think straight?
PIPER
I’m sitting in the middle of the bar waiting for the women. The old ladies. I don’t know why I said I wanted a wedding, maybe because I want this to feel real and not like it’s some contract. Which is exactly what it is, but if you put a pretty bow on it, maybe it won’t feel so…fake.
The door to the bar opens, and I watch as three women make their way toward me. The sun shines in, highlighting their shiny hair. They’re all so beautiful, I don’t know how I’m going to even be around them. I look like the ugly stepsister. I’m also nothing at all like them. Not in the slightest. I don’t know how this is going to work out.
“Piper,” Reese’s voice calls out.
She’s the only one of the three I’ve ever had a conversation with because she spends quite a bit of time here with Agony. She’s not an old lady; she comes here for a good time. As far as I know, she’s more on my level than the others.
“Hey, Reese,” I reply softly.
They all take seats across from me, and I watch as the prospect who’s been behind the bar brings a bottle of water for all four of us. When it’s just me, there is no special treatment at all. I get my own everything, mainly because I’m invisible. Which has served me well, but I have a feeling that’s over now.
“Henli and Kiplyn, this is Piper, and we get to play dress-up with her today,” Reese says with a grin on her face.
I lift my hand to give them a little wave. “We are going to get you all ready for your wedding,” Henli announces. “We have an appointment at the bridal salon, and then we’ll go and order a cake at the bakery.”
Dresses and bakeries. I don’t know what else is to come, but I think that maybe I made the wrong choice. This is way too much attention on me. Far too much. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I lift the bottle of water to my lips and take a long drink.
“I think maybe this is a mistake,” I whisper.
“It is not. Weddings and cakes are never a mistake,” Reese snaps.
I want to tell her that they indeed can be just that, but I don’t. Instead, I look down at the table with a small smile. Clearing my throat, I push the chair back and stand.
