Page 51 of Thor

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the car. "Her Audi's still at the shop. Should have the parts by tomorrow."

I'd been working on her car personally, refusing to let any of the other mechanics touch it. I wanted everything perfect. Wanted her to know that what belonged to her would be treated with care and precision.

Mandy finally opened the car door and stepped out. She wore a simple green dress that hit just above her knees, highlighting her curves without being overtly sexual. Her glossy hair fell loose around her shoulders instead of in the tight ponytail she wore at work. She looked beautiful.

She glanced up at the building, squinting against the afternoon light, uncertainty written across her face.

"I'll go meet her," I said, already moving toward the door.

Duke's knowing smile followed me. "Good call."

I took the service stairs two at a time, impatient to reach her before she had to navigate the club alone. The Heavy Kings owned the building, but Crowns attracted all types—most respectable, some less so. The thought of Mandy dealing with any unwanted attention from staff or early arrivals set my teeth on edge.

I found her just inside the staff entrance, looking slightly lost among stacked crates of premium liquor and sound equipment being prepped for the night. She stood with perfect posture but her fingers twisted nervously at the strap of her purse.

Her face changed when she saw me—uncertainty giving way to relief and something warmer. The smile that spread across her face was genuine, reaching her eyes and softening the professional mask she usually wore.

"Hey," she said softly. "Nice place."

I drew her into a gentle embrace, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair and feeling the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed against me. My hand spanned her lower back, holding her firmly but carefully, like something precious.

"You look beautiful," I murmured against her temple.

She pulled back slightly to look up at me, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Thanks. I wasn't sure what to wear for . . ." Her voice trailed off, embarrassment coloring her words.

"For negotiating a DDLG contract with a biker at a nightclub?" I finished for her, keeping my tone light. "You nailed it."

Her laugh was soft but real, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Our fingers intertwined as I led her through the backstage area, past staff members who nodded respectfully and kept their distance. Everyone who worked at Crowns knew better than to stare too long at a woman walking with a patched member.

"Club bought this place a few months ago," I explained as we navigated the corridor. "Good investment. Legitimate business."

"I know," she said, “I’ve been doing the accounts, remember?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m an idiot.” I was nervous.

“No, you’re not. I think it’s a good idea, the club. Diversification."

"Duke's idea, as you know. He's got a head for this shit. Better than most of us."

We reached the door leading to the main floor, and I paused with my hand on the push bar. "Ready for the grand tour?"

Her green eyes met mine, curiosity replacing nervousness. "Lead the way."

I pushed open the door, and Mandy's soft gasp was gratifying as she took in the main floor of Crowns. Nothing about it matched the rough biker bars typically associated with MCs. Crystal chandeliers hung from high coffered ceilings, their facets catching afternoon light streaming through tinted windows. Plush leather booths lined the walls, each with its own privacy curtain that could be drawn for VIPs. The expansive dance floor was polished black marble swirled with gold veins, surrounded by a state-of-the-art sound system currently silent but capable of filling the space with perfect acoustics.

The bar stretched along one entire wall, its surface gleaming dark wood topped with black granite, backed by mirrored shelves holding top-shelf liquor in artistic displays. Staff members in crisp black attire were arranging glassware and checking inventory, their movements efficient and professional.

"This is . . ." Mandy seemed at a loss for words, her eyes wide as she took in the upscale surroundings.

"Not what you expected?" I guided her further into the space, my hand resting at the small of her back.

"Not exactly," she admitted, craning her neck to look up at the mezzanine level circling the room. "I was thinking more..."

"Sticky floors and broken pool cues?" I suggested dryly.

Her laugh was genuine this time. "Maybe."

"We have those places too," I said. "King's Tavern has its share of bar fights and bikers. But this—" I gestured around us. "Attracts a different clientele. Less trouble, more profit."

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