Page 29 of The Prez

“Yeah,” I say as I stand up and adjust the baby and his bag. “I found that out the hard way.”

He grins at me. “Did you really? You’re here now without broken bones or lasting damage. And you’re not afraid of me or Prez. I don’t think you’ve learned at all.”

I wink at him as I head to the door. “Maybe. Or maybe you all just aren’t that scary.”

The sound of Zeke’s laughter washes over me as I make my way to the car, smiling from ear to ear.

CHAPTER 9

RAFAEL

The clubhouse is bustlingwhen I walk inside, my brother’s voices overlapping as they talk and laugh. I raise my hand in a salute to those that call out to me. Before I get to my office, I hear, “Big Raf!” and stop dead in my tracks.

Turning around slowly, I see Zeke walking up to me with a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling as he gauges my expression. No matter how many times I tell Zeke I’m going to bust his fucking lip, he never cares and continues to push my buttons. It’s one of the things I equally like and hate about him.

“Come again?” I say, raising an eyebrow at him so he knows he needs to change his fucking sentence.

He throws his arm around my shoulder, walking with me into my office. “I’m teasing, Prez. Omari came over the other night and Shane told me that’s what he calls you.”

My face flushes. Omari calls me Big Raf. It makes me feel good, like he’s accepting me into the bubble that’s just for him and the baby. I’m glad I’m walking over to my desk so Zeke doesn’t see the small smile that tips my lips.

I school my expression before I face him. “Don’t call methat again or I swear I’ll make good on breaking your fucking face.”

Zeke raises an eyebrow at me, but he doesn’t appear frightened. I swear Zeke is fucking unflappable. He knows what I’m capable of but doesn’t care. Jackass.

He studies me for a few beats, then chuckles. “Okay, I’m done. No more.” A pause. “You like him, huh?” Zeke also doesn’t mince words.

“Don’t know what you mean, hermano.”

“Yeah okay. I can see the appeal. If I weren’t with Shane, I’d try to shoot my shot. Omari is sexy as fuck. He has that perfect little peach that?—”

A fucking growl crops up in the office and it takes a moment to realize it’s coming from me. I clamp my lips shut and the sound stops.

“Fuck,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. “You’re a smart son of a bitch, you know that?”

Zeke laughs, leaning back on the couch and putting his feet up. “Yeah, I know. Why not admit it? It’s not like anyone will judge you here for liking dick. Hell, we never knew Rax was into dudes and you didn’t give him shit. Why do you think you’d be any different?”

“It’s not that,” I tell him, tugging on the cuffs of my shirt. I’m not sure why I’m talking to anyone about this. The only reason I’m saying anything at all is because Zeke will keep my confidence, not letting a word slip about anything I say. “I don’t have shit to offer him. I’m an asshole, I’m not all open with my feelings and shit. You think Omari will want someone like me? He could have his pick of any man he wants.”

Zeke lowers his legs and faces me, resting his elbows on his thighs. I’m surprised to see how serious he looks. He’s never serious about anything unless it has to do with Shaneand the clubhouse. “What’s wrong with you? Why wouldn’t he want you?”

I give him a dry look. “You know why.” I gesture around my office. “Look at where we work. Look at who I am.” I motion down my body. “Omari ain’t built for this life, man. You’ve seen him. What do I have to offer him?”

He shrugs, still looking at me intensely. “Prez, Rax got Finn to fall in love with him. I got a lawyer to fall in love with me. The men we want don’t care that we’re in the MC. They care about us.”

“Finn has Stockholm Syndrome,” I mumble, making Zeke chortle. “You had eight years to wear Shane down,” I say, trying to find an excuse not to go for what I want. I always go for what I want, but Omari is different. Just like his beautiful skin, he’s soft. Not in a can’t-take-care-of-himself soft way. But soft, nonetheless. I’m not sure he can handle what I go through being the president of this MC.

“Finn does not have Stockholm Syndrome. And Shane being around for so long, seeing what we did all the time should have pushed him away,” Zeke says, breaking into my thoughts. “Knowing I’ve got bodies and will beat someone’s ass at the drop of a hat should have made him run in the other direction, not want to be closer to me. You’re selling yourself short, Prez.”

Zeke stands and knocks on my desk. Before he goes, I call after him. When he turns to me with a curious expression, I let a little vulnerability show, more than I’ve shown anyone else. “What if he doesn’t like me when he gets to know me?”

Cracking one of his trademark smiles, Zeke says, “That’s impossible, Prez. You don’t see what we see. You’re smart, you’re loyal, you’re one of the most determined motherfuckers I’ve ever met in my life. And you ain’t half bad lookin’.” He chuckles as I glare at him, but his complimentssoak in and give life to a part of me I didn’t know needed it. “What’s there not to like?”

When I don’t answer, he leaves me alone with my thoughts. I’m not really sure what Omari thinks. He’s a smart ass, going toe to toe with me when he doesn’t like something I say. I saw that when he was in my office at Inferno all those months ago. He held his own until I had him hemmed up against the wall. But his eyes still spewed fire at me, though there was fear in equal measures.

Omari let me touch him. If he didn’t want that, he would have pushed me away or told me to back off. My being his boss had nothing to do with it. Omari doesn’t mince words when it comes to me, so if he didn’t want it, he would have told me.

Could Zeke be right? Could Omari maybe … want something with me? I’m not sure what, since I don’t know what of myself I can give.

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