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Simon’s sorrowful glare cut through me.
“I need to know that you’re willing to step into this role first. You’ll be with me for the next few months until the transition. You won’t be here as often. I need to know you want this.”
Laura flashed in my head. A blink.
The club was all I had ever wanted. Wes had just given it up, while Simon said he was never intended to actually keep it. The gamble was still there that Wes decided to. Simon was counting on the fact that Wesley’s weakness for Callie would place the club back in my hands.
“This club is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m committed.”
Simon glared for a second longer then shook his head.
“You can’t lead this club and be distracted. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
He stood and tossed me a set of keys.
I caught them in one hand. “No distractions here.”
TWENTY-FOUR
LAURA
I was hiding from Killian.
Well, sort of.
I stood in the guest bathroom downstairs, staring at myself, and smirked. Not ready for him to see the tattoo I’d gotten. I decided I’d be clever and tell him to fuck me in the new property patch. I heard from Callie back when she started wearing hers that it was like catnip to them.
I decided to test the waters and see how it would go.
My hair was curled, and I’d reapplied some gloss on my lips. I’d shaved, showered, and moisturized every single inch of my skin and now as I stared at myself in the mirror, I was excited for what Killian would think.
I flipped the light and sauntered upstairs.
When I had asked for a second to get myself together, he’d been more than willing because he wanted to scrub the remnants of the road and shitty motel off him. Now as I walked upstairs and sauntered into his room, I found him standing by his dresser, completely naked.
His ink was deliciously dark against his pale skin. My gaze flicked to that daisy again, and my curiosity grew talons, needing to rip the answers from him.
I was so focused, I hadn’t even registered that Killian had gone completely still, or that his eyes were hooded and fixated on me.
“You’re more than I ever dreamed of,” he whispered, turning toward me.
“You dreamed of me?”
His smile turned bashful, and it made something crack inside me.
“I dreamed of finding someone…my match.” He covered that daisy tattoo with his palm.
I stepped closer, my bare feet silent against the plush carpet under me.
Then I was directly in front of him and leaned in to press a kiss over the tattoo.
“Tell me what it means, and why you call me it.”
His gaze searched mine, a frantic sort of panic swirling within those verdant orbs.
“When I was a child, my mother and I bonded over movies, specifically the classics. She loved Cinderella, and I didn’t really mind watching it because it meant we spent time together.” His bashful smile returned, and my chest swelled.
It allowed me to examine a tiny piece of him and finally understand.
