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“You know what the consequences are for a brother who fucks with another’s old lady?” he asks me.
“I do, sir.”
“And that those same consequences stand for daughters, right?” he checks.
“Yes, Prez.” I look down at the worn wooden floor beneath my feet.
“So what I’m tryin’ to figure, Nyx, is how anyone who held the nerve to fuck the president of their club's daughter, while he was lookin’ him right in the fuckin’ eye every day, wouldn’t want to be getting outta town real fuckin’ swiftly.” He sits forward in his chair and slams his palm hard into the table. So hard it sounds like it might crack under the impact.
“I understand that, Prez, but…” A loud scrape echoes around the room when he stands up from his chair.
“You either gotta be a real dumb fuck, Nyx, or have balls bigger than Texas,” he adds.
“I ain’t running, Prez, I’m standing here and I’m owning my shit. I didn’t just fuck Ella. I fell in love with her.” I realize fuck is probably the wrong word choice a little too late and Prez’s lack of reaction to that unnerves me.
“I wanted to make her mine from the moment you first handed me her picture. I tried really hard not to fall for her, but I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. And now that it’s happened and we got him here too. I refuse to fuckin’ regret it.” I suck in a breath. “So I’m gonna make this real easy on ya,” I tell him, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
“If you want me dead for loving your daughter, you’ll know exactly where to find me. ‘Cause you were wrong, she belongs here with her real family. With you. And with me now. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
There’s another icy silence, this one lasting even longer than the last one. Maybe he’s thinking of all the ways he could kill me, and I just hope to God he doesn’t intend on Jessie doing the deed.
If he’s thinking of exiling me again, death would be his better option because I ain’t going nowhere, not without my girl and our kid.
“You bet your fuckin’ ass you ain’t.” Prez looks at me sternly before closing his eyes and dropping his head.“Jesus, Nyx. I swear to Satan, you got one chance not to fuck this up, or so help me god I will not think twice about making my own daughter a widow. You got that?” He looks back up at me, his hard eyes scowling me a warning.
I stare at him for a while, going over in my head what I just heard.
“I got it,” I say, in far too much shock to feel any relief just yet.
“Now hand over that cut,” he nods his head at the leather I’m wearing, and it stabs at my chest having to pull the cut off my back and lay it out on the table. Yeah, it was just a prospect vest, but wearing it made me feel like I belonged somewhere. I’ve worked damn hard to be a member of the club. These guys have been my family and I can’t think about how I’ve let Tac down. I just hope I get to keep my job at the studio.
I get what Prez is doing, and I’m grateful for it. He has to stick by the club’s rules, and if I ain’t a member, I guess that means I can be with his daughter. He needs to keep his respect around here. I understand that.
“You can get the fuck out of here and go ‘own that shit’, boy,” he throws my own words back at me, with zero tolerance in his voice. I nod back at him, turning to walk away.
“And Nyx,” he calls out just before I get to the door I turn my head, and my hand automatically reaches out and snatches what he just tossed at me.
Black, soft, leather, it makes hairs lift up off my skin when I look down and realize what I’m clutching in my fist.
A Dirty Souls cut.
“I don’t ever wanna hear you chatting that cunt struck nonsense again, ya hear me, brother?” he tells me, almost smirking.
“Prez?” I look up to him, confused.
“The President of the Dirty Souls can’t have his daughter marrying no fuckin’ prospect,” he points out.
I have no words to say back to him. I’m speechless.
“And let me fuckin’ tell you something, Nyx, there will be a fuckin’ wedding,” he adds a firm warning in his tone
“Sure thing, Prez,” I manage, allowing a smile to hook at my lips.
“What about the others?” I ask.
“They all voted you in last week, that’s why we called you back here. They’ll understand that sometimes the rules have to be adjusted. And as someone recently told me, it takes a good man to forgive.”
“Thanks.” It seems such a small word for what he’s giving me, but I don’t know what else to say.
