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“It never occurred to me that my own father would be the man to cut me out over a mistake like this, especially because a woman was involved.”
“What do you expect from me? It’s my job to worry about the club. I can’t allow men to know what’s going on until I’m sure they won’t let their guard down and jeopardize us all.”
I slam my fist down on the table, causing the whole thing to vibrate. “Say what you mean, you son of a bitch! You mean you can’t trust me. Maybe I should ask T for a position in his club and prove myself to Ford. Hell, you could exchange me for King. In your eyes, I’m sure that would be trading up. After all, he already knows what’s going on. He was in my own club’s fucking territory, comfortable as hell, while I had no idea he was allowed here. You can’t convince me that the men running our borders lately weren’t aware of it, too. Did you make positions in the club for them, Dad? That way, you could let them in on your damn secret and rationalize why you kept your own flesh and blood in the dark.”
“I make decisions for the good of the club. Not as your father!”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a sanctimonious asshole who has done much worse than I, but hey, go ahead and fuck me over. I don’t need you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dad asks.
I let out a laugh that is about the farthest thing you can get from being happy. The sound is chilling and filled with disgust. “Figure it out. All I’m doing is following in my father’s footsteps. The only difference is I don’t have kids to see the fallout.”
“Dom—”
“I’ll turn my cut in tomorrow. It’s clear I’m not wanted or needed.”
I stomp out, slamming the office door, feeling like I’m being cut in half. I don't know my next move, but I know I won’t do it in my father’s shadow anymore. I make it outside of the house and jump on my bike. Dad comes out just as my pipes rack and I screech out of the drive. He tries to flag me down. I ignore him. Fuck him. He can kiss my ass.
Chapter 31
Thea
Dom: Hey can u meet me on Barbourville Rd?
Me: The one you take for Flealand?
I frown wondering why in the world he wants to meet there.
Dom: Yeah. It’s above Flealand though. I’ll send the info.
Me: You sure you don’t want to meet at Mattie’s? Was going to bring pizza. I’m hungry.
Dom: Bring pizza with u. I’ll order it from Sauced. U pick it up.
Me: Ok. Are you alright, baby?
Dom: I will be when u get here.
I stare at the text as the address comes through. I’m not sure where it is. Maybe it is Killer’s address. Dom is not a big text person. He normally calls. Something just feels off. I could be overreacting because I didn’t get to hear his voice.
I worry about it the entire time I’m picking up the pizza and driving to the address that Dom sent over after our conversation. Part of me is really concerned he may be having second thoughts about the two of us having a relationship. There could be a chance that Gabby has come back. There’s an even bigger chance that his parents convinced him to end things with me.
Suffice it to say, by the time I pull into the drive of a pretty little white house trimmed in red, my nerves are completely shot. The only thing in the drive is Dom’s bike. I park beside it and grab the pizza. It’s a cute place. It’s an old farmhouse style home and you can tell it’s been painted recently. There’s a red tin roof and the shutters are also red. The porch is big and runs along the front and right side of the house, and there’s an inviting swing in the corner where the two sides of the house meet. The steps are red brick and come out wide enough that three people could probably go up them at once. I make it to the door, and it opens before I even get a chance to knock. Dom is standing there. He grabs the pizza and my hand at the same time.
“Hi—”
I barely get one word out before he’s literally pulling me through the door. I almost stumble crossing the doorway. I hear the door slam behind me. The pizza is thrust down on a table close to the door. Then, I instantly feel arms around me. Dom’s face presses in against my neck and he holds me close. His body is vibrating with stress or anger—maybe both. I look up at him, confused as hell. Dom’s eyes are swirling with emotion. He groans, and it sounds painful.
“What’s going on, Dom?” I ask, taking my hand and caressing the side of his face.
“It’s just a bad day. It will be better now that you’re here,” he says. His words are spoken with authority, but he looks lost. It hurts me to see him like that.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Yeah. I will, I promise. Just give me a day to process everything, okay?”
“Whatever you need,” I murmur. I’m worried to death, but he’s obviously struggling. I want to do whatever I can to help him. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel better?”
