Page 33 of Treachery

“Come in,” she called, internally groaning at the hurdle to her getting out of there.

When the door opened, front desk clerk on duty, Shannon, stepped through the door, holding a large bouquet of gerbera daisies in a gorgeous crystal vase.

“Sorry to interrupt, but these were delivered a few minutes ago. The delivery guy said they were for you. There’s a card, too,” she said, holding out the small white envelope.

Surprised, Nadia stood and reached for the envelope and heavy-looking vase. The daisies were beautiful and smelled amazing. Daisies had always been her favorite flower; they looked happy, always bright and joyful, like sunshine on a stem.

“Thank you, Shannon,” Nadia murmured, her face planted in the flowers.

Shannon grinned, then turned and left, closing the office door behind her.

Holding her breath, Nadia carefully placed the vase on her desk, and opened the envelope.

Dinner tonight.

Sabatini’s at 8 PM.

Please.

Her heart racing, her skin heating, she had no doubt who the flowers were from.

But why? What were his intentions?

Had Frost ordered him to invite her to dinner?

Shaking her head, she batted away that thought. Frost had reached out to apologize to her, sending her coupons for car maintenance—at the MC’s garage, of course—free coffee and treats at Dunkin, and a $200 gift certificate for pampering at Lux, a high end and expensive day spa in Waverly. The man knew how to apologize, and she felt that he truly regretted what he’d done. So…why would he order Locust to invite her out to dinner?

He wouldn’t.

So…this was a real invitation to dinner? For a date?

And at Sabatini’s? It was the one place she’d mentioned to James—Locust—during the time they’d been together. They’dbeen snuggling on the couch, spending another night inside watching TV, and she’d desperately wanted him to take her out. They’d been “dating” for two months by then, and they’d never done anything outside of her house except hit up the fast-food drive thru after vigorous lovemaking, when neither of them had the energy to make dinner. That had been the extent of their “relationship”—fucking and the occasional Mickey D’s run.

How had she not seen that red flag?

He’d been hiding her, hiding their relationship, because it had been a job to him. Had he been embarrassed by her because she wasn’t his usual type? No, because he’d introduced her to his friends and club brothers.

Yeah, but they were all in on the ruse.

Right?

Okay, woman, stop the crazy carousel—these questions will get you nowhere, and they don’t matter, anyway.

Checking the time on the wall clock, she saw that she only had three hours to decide—ignore the invitation and eat day old Chinese food instead, or accept the invitation and actually let the man who broke her heart explain why he’d done it…and risk more heartbreak. Staring down at the card in her trembling hand, she didn’t know what to do.

Old Nadia and New Nadia wrestled in her mind, and she had no idea who she wanted to win.

Two weeks, seven hours, twenty-four minutes—too damn long since he’d seen, touched, and heard his woman, and he was fuckingdrowning!

He’d texted, sent her take out, and hadn’t spent a single night away from the footage still streaming from the inside of her house. Yes, he was still stalking her like a fucking creep, but how else was he supposed to see her, to know if she was eating right, getting enough sleep…thinking about him…missing him…softening toward him?

If she’d knew that he’d been watching her, jerking his aching cock to images of her doing mundane things like wash dishes and fold laundry, she’d have him committed to the state mental hospital, after she castrated him.

The fucked up part was that Cluster, the asshole who started the dominos toppling that morning a month ago, had caught him staring down at his phone, watching Nadia scrubbing out her fridge.

“Is that a new kind of porn?” Clusterfuck asked, peering over Locust’s shoulder in a move that was totally an invasion of fucking privacy.

Shoving his cell into his kutte pocket, Locust whipped around, and punched the fucker in the face.

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