Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I pause momentarily at the jolt of electricity that shoots through me when we touch. I glare at Lucky and then continue to greet my father. “You’re home.” I wrap my arms around him and press a kiss on his cheek. “How was your day, Daddy?”
“Fine, honey,” he responds, clearly preoccupied.
“I had a date tonight,” I begin, but his gaze doesn’t change, and he doesn’t look up to acknowledge that I’m even speaking. “It didn’t go well,” I add, even though he’s not paying attention.
“That’s good, Aria.”
My shoulders slump in disappointment. I’ve been trying to get my father’s attention for years, and I don’t know if he’s incapable after my mom died or if he’s just an asshole.
Tonight, I choose the latter.
“I signed an antiquity firm thanks to my marketing prowess,” I say hopefully. “They ship all over the world. Big bucks.”
“Good job, honey.” His words are meaningless because he doesn’t mean them. They are empty, the same emptiness he used on me when I was a little girl desperate for his attention.
Some things never change.
The little girl in me wants to gain my daddy’s attention, to make him see me as the capable woman I am, but that woman knows the truth—this is a losing battle.
So with my shoulders sagging, I step away from him and turn toward the stairs feeling rejected. This is the way of life with my father. He never has time for me but insists on keeping me locked up in this awesome but gilded prison.
I trudge up the stairs with the devil on my shoulder, making me wonder if he would even notice if I ran away from my life. Would he even care if I screwed the biker?
Probably not.
It’s a foolish thought, and I know it instantly. My life has been the same for years, even before my mother died if I’m being honest. A team of paid employees looks after me, making me feel loved and cared for while he dedicates twenty-four hours of every single day to work and growing the fortune that will one day belong to me.
Whether I want it or not.
My heart is heavy as I close my bedroom door behind me to lock out the rest of the world, preparing to sulk for a few hours. That’s the plan anyway, but Coco has peed all over the floor in excitement—or fear.
That gives me two choices. Clean it up myself or break my sulking to have one of the house staff take care of it.
That’s a freakin’ joke. As much as I love Coco, cleaning up after him isn’t something I’m going to do. I am who I am—a pampered rich girl who doesn’t bother with menial tasks like cleaning up after the best doggy in the world.
Ever.
I grab my phone and hit Frannie’s speed dial. “Frannie, can you please come up and clean the mess in my room? Coco had an accident, and there’s also some blood on the carpet from Chase,” I say, cringing at the thought of the mess.
“Blood? What have you got yourself into now, hon?” Frannie replies, her voice ever-so-kind and understanding.
“Stupid shit. Just please come clean this up. Please.” I beg. I don’t feel like talking and explaining the whole night to her.
I hang up, knowing Frannie will come to take care of everything. As I lie back on the bed, I replay the night’s events, my thoughts lingering on Lucky and the strange, exhilarating feelings he evokes.
And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to navigate the complex emotions swirling around me and come to terms with the undeniable attraction I feel for the infuriating biker who’s turned my world upside down.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucky
This assignment is going to be the death of me, I swear it. Sure, early morning in this swanky ass neighborhood is fucking gorgeous, better than the years I spent in the airborne infantry combat team.
Nothing by land, air, or sea is as beautiful as watching the sun rise over Angel Harbor, but the beauty doesn’t take away from the truth; boredom is a motherfucker.
It’s another day at the Morgan mansion, and I want to pull my fucking hair out. Keeping Aria safe is my job—my only job. It’s easy as fuck, if annoying and boring, and once we’re done with the Morgan family, I’ll be able to move up in the MC in any way I want. This menial job will prove to Ace and Dix and all the rest that I’m a trusted brother, one they can rely on to do whatever the fuck the club needs.
Brothers first.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
“Morning, Lucky. Care for some food?” Frannie, the housekeeper, flashes a smile as she steps onto the driveaway, smoothing the skirt of her crisp uniform. She’s one of two housekeepers who live on-site to wait hand and foot on Aria and Geoffrey, but she’s the nice one. The other one, Beatrice, treats me like Aria does as if I’m the shit on the bottom of her designer shoes.