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“Hey, you’d have been afraid, too, if you’d known that version of him,” Paddy says. “Cassandra softened him aplenty. And then you were born, and the man just melted. He was never the same again. I never blamed him for leaving the club. In fact, I supported his decision. Orion’s dad, ol’ Rufus Williams, had it out for Mike. He wanted to give him a good beating on his way out so the club wouldn’t come across as weak.”
“Really?”
Paddy chuckles dryly. “Those were the days, honey. We were fearsome.”
“You still are,” I reply. “I mean, from what Dad says, you guys practically rule Orange County.”
“Yeah, but we’re getting old. I’m the last dinosaur, you know? The boys, they wanna go legit. I don’t mind that, but it involves cutting ties with some people who don’t wanna cut said ties.” Paddy pauses and takes a deep breath. Behind me, the bartenders buzz around like busy bees, serving drinks and loading the dishwasher with dirty glasses while music blares through the wall-mounted speakers. It’s getting louder as more people pour into the bar. “You’ll see and understand more soon enough,” Paddy adds. “But in the meantime, you keep your nose clean, you hear me, Nadia?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m just here to work, Paddy.”
“Good. You stick to that. Don’t let any of these dirty dogs get too close. You’re a Kessler, remember that.”
How could I forget?
I’m Kessler’s pristine princess. His porcelain doll. His never-removed-from-the-box jewel. It’s something I’ve grown severely tired of, though. I’d love to live more, to fall head over heels and experience everything that I’ve been missing out on.
That’s the trouble with stepping out of one’s gilded cage and experiencing freedom for the first time—it can be overwhelming.
The doors swing wide open, and some of the fellas whistle and clap as Orion, Kai, and Drake walk into the bar. I freeze by the beer tap, unable to take my eyes off them. Good grief, they’re delicious morsels of pure manhood. Denim and leather-clad, broad-shouldered former Navy SEALs with that bad-boy vibe that gets every pair of panties wet in this place.
I hold my breath as our gazes meet for the briefest of seconds.
“Howdy, fellas!” Paddy greets them from the bar.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice coming out in a squeak.
They have this effect on me, though I don’t know what to call it. A crush on one of them would make sense, but I’m crushing on all three of them—hard.
God help me.
Orion is the club president. He is Italian, dark, and handsome. He has an athletic frame, salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, strong arms, and rippling pecs that struggle against any kind of shirt he wears. I’m told he hits the CrossFit gym three times every week to keep up with the crew—and it shows.
Tonight, he’s donning blue jeans and a white tank underneath a black leather vest, his boots thudding heavily across the floor. It’s his tattoos that always catch my eye; I try to make out what they are, though I can never stare at him for long enough, not without getting his attention.
Orion’s attention is something so intense, so overwhelming, I have to look elsewhere just to catch my breath again.
Kai Medina is the club’s vice president. He's also dark and handsome, though taller than Orion. He’s built like a boxer, with tanned skin and short, black hair. He’s getting a few grey streaks here and there, too, along with fine lines framing the corners of his delicious-looking mouth. His tattoos and battle scars make him look fierce and deadly, but it’s his piercing blue eyes that make my heart stop.
Paddy says Kai is not to be messed with. He may come across as calm and calculated, but if anybody rattles him, they will surely suffer the consequences. I guess that’s why the prospects are always so skittish around him. He still rips into the kickboxing dojo a few times a week, training with the younger prospects to get them ready for the real world while also keeping himself in tip-top shape.
Drake, on the other hand, seems like the odd guy out, somehow. He’s the first lieutenant and in charge of all the club’s accounting. He reminds me of the older, surfer dude type, light-hearted in his demeanor yet superhot, with sandy blonde hair and wicked green eyes, a permanent tan, and a warm, charming smile. But he’s a Blackthorn Rider, and I need to keep that in mind.
He’s just as hard, just as dangerous, and just as intimidating when he has to be.
And my heels are burning for all three.
According to Paddy, they’ve been best friends since they were kids. They grew up together in the club before they took over their respective roles from their predecessors. Their bond is unbreakable—not only did they grow up together, but they also served in the military together.
They maintain a tight, impenetrable circle.
Everyone in the club knows that they share everything, including their women.
It took me a while to wrap my head around that particular morsel of gossip, but I have to admit I’m curious.
Very curious.
“You okay, honey?” Travis asks me.
