Page 19 of Make You Mine

Trent doesn’t seem worried, but he does lower his voice. “I promise she was just dropping off the papers. To be honest, I didn’t want her coming to my place and knowing where I live now.”

Okay, I kinda like that answer.But still, why her…Why is she still around? Did more develop between them when they were studying in Europe? She was a year ahead of him in undergrad. A sickening thought enters my head.

“How convenient that you guys are back in school together again? I bet you’ve stayed in touch with her this whole time.” I need to know if he will confirm what his brother alluded to.

He shakes his head vigorously. “No. I was as surprised as you to see her on the first day of class. She took her time taking the MCAT and didn’t start med school until this August.”

Trent reaches for me, but I take a step back, not caring thatmy shit is scattered all over the ground at the moment, even as some sketchy people walk by.

“Ash, there was never anything between me and her. Not then, not now. I promise you, on everything.” He leans down, starting to pick up my belongings and put them back in my purse.

“I hated her then, just like I hate her now.” I whisper the honesty before I can stop myself. “She can have you, fully and freely, and I can’t.” A tear finally slides down my face as he stands back up and wipes it with his thumb. His simple touch sends goosebumps all over my body.

“That wasn’t true then, and it isn’t true now. She can’t have me fully and freely.” He interlaces his fingers in mine and continues. “Not when you still own me completely.”

My heart does a somersault, warmth spreading across my chest. This man has always turned my brain to complete mush.

Luca peeks around the corner once more. “We need to wrap this up, Ashley.”

“Give me one more minute,” I call back, surprised he’s allowing this. He must trust Trent since he’s a doctor. I think back to the other night when he let Trent close the door behind him to come in and check out my ankle. At the time, I just chalked it up to him feeling safe since Nori was in there, but maybe Luca is different than my other guards have been, and he will truly allow me to live a little and give me the privacy I deserve.

Trent and I both lean down to pick up the rest of my belongings, and that’s when I see the metal shaft barely peeking outfrom the back of his pants. My breath catches at the sight, head rearing back.

“Trent, why the fuck are you carrying a gun?”

“For protection,” he answers calmly, almost too calmly. I see the way he’s assessing me, trying to decipher what I’m thinking.

I stare at him, so many thoughts running through my head.

An idea that’s been looming in my subconscious rushes back to the surface. I know my brother looked out for Trent all those years ago, mainly for my safety as well. After that night in the hotel, when Micah came to warn us about Junior, I interrogated him about how he and Trent knew one another. He didn’t go into much detail, but he did admit he knew and worked with Trevor as well. But in the commotion the other night at the gala, the way they communicated…it was almost like there was something even deeper going on.

He must see the worry on my face. “Please, just come on Friday. I’ll explain everything.”

“Who are you now, Trent?” I ask, straightening up, just as Luca walks around the corner.

“Yours, always,” he whispers with one last searing look into my eyes before he walks away.

Trent glances back one more time before he steps out of the alley. I stand there with my mouth dropped open, heart racing, confusion from all his confessions slowly morphing my sliver of hope into a field of dandelions.

Hope for the future.

I allowed myself to wish on that life once upon a time, and it brought me to the hell I’m currently living in, dreaming about the heaven only one person has ever made me feel.

Sometimes I think not knowing what it's like to behiswould be easier.

Seven

My eyes rake over the people situated throughout the room. The Saints members come from all walks of life, and large meetings like this are proof of that.

Yesterday, Nico called for an urgent meeting at The Quartet, a gentlemen’s club on the Upper East Side. Despite its nature, this place is strictly business. A safe place where our chapter meets and private matters can be discussed. Only Saints members are allowed.

Many secrets are held deep in the paint of these all-black walls. The best scotch man can buy is housed on the shelves, and the scent of premium cigars is embedded into the leather seats.

The flick of my brother’s lighter draws my attention to where he sits beside me on the leather two-seater. He grabs another cigar from the table in front of us and offers it to me, but the nervous energy I can’t shake has me reaching for my scotch glass instead.

“I’ve called this meeting today because I want to make sureyou are all in the loop on this,” Nico’s voice booms, his attention directed to the sea of men before him.

“As most of you know, we have been keeping a close eye on Don Santini after the spike in fentanyl overdoses in this area. There are…” he pauses and chooses his words carefully, “people who brought this to our attention who are concerned about the change in leadership.”

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