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The Formica countertops are old and a little rough around the edges, but the large double-fronted fridge is always well stocked.
Rage leans back against one of the counters and watches while I pull together my breakfast of choice, fruit and Greek yoghurt, though sometimes the latter isn’t great when I feel nauseous.
“Do you want anything?” I ask him, but he shakes his head. He never eats breakfast, at least he hasn’t since he’s been escorting me around the clubhouse.
As I busy making up my bowl, I find the question slipping out of my mouth. “Why do you call them old ladies? I mean, not one of them is old.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never asked. That’s just what they’re called. It ain’t an insult to them. It’s a respect thing.”
I do believe that is true. All the men in this club treat the women who are in relationships with a great deal of it. I want to know if I’m Rage’s old lady, but I don’t want to push either. We’re coming to a good place, and I’m starting to think I could have a life here.
“Oh. So, is there like an exam or initiation they had to pass to become old ladies?”
He snorts, finding this amusing. “No. They’re just claimed.”
I lift my head, stopping mid-cut of the banana I’m planning to put in my bowl. “Claimed?”
“Yeah, darlin’, claimed. The brother who wants an old lady agrees to take responsibility for her actions. Everything she does reflects on the brother she’s with. That’s why claimin’ ain’t just done on a whim. You can date whoever you want, but getting that status is a big deal.”
I return my attention to cutting my fruit, unable to stop the furrow lining my brow. “So, all those women in there were voted in?”
“Don’t know how Howler runs his chapter on that front, but yeah, that’s how it’s done in London.”
I don’t reply. I can date Rage, but the chance of his club ever accepting me as his old lady is slim to none. I don’t know why that bothers me so much. It’s not like he’s saying we can’t be together. Obviously, we’re together inwhateverthis is.
“You think having that title changes anything?” He steps up behind me, his hands wrapping around my stomach as his chin rests on the top of my head. “Babe, it doesn’t mean shit to me. You and our baby belong to me—old lady or not.”
I turn in his arms, my hands resting against his chest as his hold my hips. “I don’t need a title or approval from anyone but you.”
“They’re comin’ around. I see it every day how they’re warming to you,” he says.
“I know, and they have every right not to trust me, Beau.”
“No, they don’t. You ain’t your father any more than I’m mine.”
The fierceness in which he says that makes me smile. He’s so worried about becoming the man who tortured him as little boy that it’s good to hear him understand this. “No, you’re not,” I agree with him, pressing my body against his chest.
His arms wrap around me. I want to hug all that pain and suffering he went through out of him, but there’s nothing that can fix what he’s been through, and as much as we want it, we can’t change who we are either.
“I wish things had been different, Beau. I wish I was just a normal girl with a normal dad and we could just exist together without all this baggage.”
He doesn’t say he wishes it too, but I’m sure he does. Things would be so much easier if that was the case.
“Come on, grab your food. You can eat it on the terrace, get some air.”
I get my bowl and a spoon from the drawer before I follow him back into the common room. As we step inside, Socket—who I’ve learned is Pia’s father—approaches.
“Howler’s lookin’ for you,” he says to Rage.
There’s a moment of indecision and I understand instantly why. Rage isn’t meant to leave me unsupervised, but I get the impression it’s not because I’m his job that he doesn’t want to leave me.
“I’ll keep an eye on things,” Socket assures him.
Rage glances at me, and I can tell he doesn’t want to go, but I give him a smile. “I’ll be fine. Go and speak to Howler.”
“If anything happens to her—”
Socket holds up his hands. “I’ll keep her safe.”
