Page 16 of Stone

Oriana

“You got the position?” Professor Lindfield smiles from where she is sitting behind her desk. “That’s great news,” she congratulates me.

Today’s Thursday, the day before I start my new job.

“Well, it’s actually on a trial basis, but I’m hopeful it will work out, providing I don’t mess up.”

“Oriana, it will be fine,” she rises and comes around to the front of her desk, props her ass on the edge and hands over my folder containing the details of my next assignment. “You’re well ahead on the syllabus, and I’m confident that you are more than capable of taking this job and completing the rest of your course work, including your final thesis.”

“That’s not what worries me,” I grimace.

“Does the pay not cover your rent?” she frowns with concern. She’s well aware of my living situation, or should I say the impending lack of it now that my landlord has hiked up the payments. It’s not just me that’s been hit by the increase, all the residents have. What was previously one family dwelling had been converted into four, but despite them being listed as apartments, they were actually four rooms with a far from hygienic shared bathroom and kitchen. Behind the now extortionate rent was an even more extortionate offer from a developer who was buying up the area to build a new high-rise monstrosity. I was the last man, or should I say, woman standing as the others had already flown the nest, making the damn place as spooky as shit.

“That’s another reason why I need to make this work,” I explain. “I’m all packed up and ready to move out, so it’s a good job that this nanny job is living in. Even though it’s not ideal shacking up with a motorcycle club, and it’s a bit rough around the edges, it’s still better than the cockroach infested excuse of a home I’m leaving behind.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be living in a MC clubhouse?” My professor gasps, suddenly jolting up on her feet. “No, no, no you can’t do this.”

“Not quite.” I say quickly to appease her. “Initially I thought that too, but on the journey back, Wolf explained that I would be living in a cabin that’s still on the Young Outlaws land but set back away from the main clubhouse.”

“A cabin? Won’t that be a bit of a tight squeeze?”

“It will be a penthouse compared to the one room that I’ve virtually been living in for the last eighteen months.” I snigger. “I assume Stone will be busy with club business most of the time, and Wolf assured me that I would have my own bedroom big enough to study in, too.”

“Wolf, Stone? This is crazy.” She slips back into her chair, leaning forward, looking me straight in the eye. “Promise me that the first sign of trouble, or if you feel out of your depth, you ring me.”

“Damn, Professor, are you trying to put the fear of god into me?” I giggle nervously.

“Promise me, Oriana, your safety is paramount, and if push comes to shove, we’ll work something else out.”

I don’t reply because, honestly, I think she’s being a little dramatic, although I don’t deny that this move is a little daunting.

“Oriana?” she barks when I’ve still not responded.

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

Stone

On the days running up to Friday, I make sure I spend lots of time with Sasha, but other than coloring, watching kid’s TV and pushing her on the swing at the side of the house, I’m struggling to think of ways to keep her entertained.

When nap time comes around, I collapse on the couch right after I make sure the baby monitor is on. I’d rather get in the ring and do three rounds with Edge than watch another episode of Bubble Guppies with the bright pink mermaid that Sasha chuckles at every time it comes on the TV screen. She bloody loves the program, but it drives me nuts.

There’s a quiet knock at the door. A quick glance at the clock tells me that it’s way too early for it to be the nanny, unless she’s decided to inflict an additional hour's worth of her relentless jabbering on me before we get down to business. Before I can get to my feet, the door opens, and Smoke walks in.

“Is Sasha asleep?” he asks, tilting his head to gesture upstairs. The way he swaggers over to where I’m sitting, the steely look in his eyes and jutting chin tells me he’s pissed and not here to make pleasantries.

“Yeah, what’s going on, Prez?”

“I’ve got news, and you’re not going to like it.” He takes a cigarette out and puts it between his lips, then curses when he realizes where he is. “Grab the monitor. I need a tab, so let’s go outside.” Walking over to the sliding doors that lead out to the rear garden, he pulls it open, and we step outside, closing the door behind us.

I wait while he lights up and takes a deep draw on his cigarette. He’s not just pissed; he’s fucking livid and on the verge of losing his head.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, brother, because you’re starting to fucking worry me?”

“You remember that chick, the cop who was investigating your brother’s accident?”

“Officer Wahlberg?” I suggest.

“Yeah, that’s the bitch. Well, I just got off the phone with her.” He takes another tote from the tab. The hand holding the cigarette between his first two fingers goes to the side of his head, the plump base of his thumb rubbing against his temple. “I told her to call me with any updates on the investigation rather than bothering you when you already had enough on your plate getting settled in with Sasha.”

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