Page 18 of Savage Temptation
6
EMILIA
Twenty-five minutes, a couple of new introductions, and countless hugs later, I find myself standing in the middle of the Savage living room. I look like a freshly fucked yellow bird with a spectacular case of bed head. The back of a bike does nothing for a girl’s hair.
No one in their right mind should take me seriously, but I have the full attention of the Savage crew, the club candy, Charli, who is the mother hen of the place and the new girl. She’s Reaper’s woman I assume, with how he keeps a hand on her at all times. I refuse to use biker lingo and call her his ol’ lady.
I’ve told them everything I shared with Jagger. “I know what I am saying sounds ludicrous, but it’s true. Euphoria is being passed around New Orleans in bouquets of flowers. I saw it myself tonight. Oliver owns three floral shops in this city alone. I am sure he has more in other cities or will soon enough. He never was one to keep to only one cookie jar, if you know what I mean. It makes sense when you think about it.”
“It’s damn genius, if you ask me.” Storm offers as he comes back into the living room with a bourbon in hand. He offers it to me, but I need to keep my head on straight.
He kisses the top of my head and puts an arm around my middle as the rest of the crew exchanges their thoughts.
Instead of sitting, everyone is standing around me in a circle. Charli pulls her long black hair into a high bun, something she does when it’s time to get down to business. She grabs a glass of water off a serving tray and passes me one, too. Charli is a biker chick for decades through and through, sweet to a point, a bourbon lover, and someone you would never suspect of being a serial book-a-holic. She got me hooked on reading smut the day we met and it’s because of her my phone is filled with a wide variety of book boyfriends. My books are the only thing that kept me sane while I suffered under Oliver’s thumb.
A myriad of scents clogs the air—smoke, booze, and something spicy. Some of Charli’s famous chili pepper and corn muffins, if memory serves. I could wolf down a whole batch, but food can come later.
Reaper wraps a protective arm around a cute brunette with kind eyes who I just met. She barely reaches his shoulder but I can tell she has her man wrapped around her every word. She also smells like baby power and they totally have the vibe of being new parents. I suspect the baby is sleeping. I wish I could ask, but I know there will be plenty of time for that.
“Storm is right. It’s genius. Flowers are never questioned. Nor are the delivery boys. They can go into any establishment and never be looked at twice.”
I nod. “Arabelle, is right. I receive dozens of flower deliveries a week from fans. They are passed through security with only a signature.” I look to all the Savage crew except for the V.P., who isn’t here. The rest are though, and very intent on what I am saying.
When I walked in here, it was just like Jagger had promised. Reaper greeted me with a giant hug and the rest of the crew followed. Like I’d only gone on vacation. Even now tears burn the back of my eyes with how easily they accepted me back into the fold. But I know better than to believe they will trust me so easily. There is a difference.
I clear my throat. A dry patch suddenly makes my words crack. “Before I continue, I want to say I’m sorry for just disappearing the way I did. I didn’t do it to hurt anybody or to shun anyone. I have no right to walk in here like nothing happened.”
I angle my head to look up at Jagger who stands behind me, silently lending me his strength as I speak from the heart. He puts his empty glass of bourbon down and takes my hand in his, linking our fingers together.
I turn to hold Reaper’s gaze and then Charli’s. I move around the room and make sure everyone knows I am speaking to them and not into the air randomly. “You guys made me feel part of this family and I just disappeared. That wasn’t fair. I’m truly sorry and I hope you give me the chance to make it up to you.”
There’s a lot of kind words of understanding, but I press on.
“What happened?”
I consider Charli’s quiet question. I had no intention of going into detail so soon, but it feels like a good time.
“Oliver approached me one night as I was leaving the Voodoo Lounge. He promised me the moon as managers tend to do. He said he watched me all week and couldn’t get enough. I was naïve and had stars in my eyes. He wanted to record me and promised he could secure a recording contract with a large studio within a week. It was fun to think about, but I turned him down. I told him I was getting married and only sang locally.”
Goosebumps pepper my exposed arms as I think back to the murderous expression he pinned me with when I turned down his offer.
Jagger settles his hands on my hips and I take that warmth to anchor me to the here and now as I mentally tumble into the past.
His lips are next to my ear when he says, “Go on, baby. Say what you gotta say. They are listening.”
I inhale deeply and push on. “A week after that parking lot proposal, I learned no one tells Oliver no. You all know my father was a gambling man. My mother was too. Long story of like meets like. They both ran up a lot of debt in local casinos before my mother got sick and passed. After her funeral my dad didn’t stop. Oliver looked to target people like them when they had something he wanted. He would pay off their debts, but in exchange he named his price. Which was never money, by the way.”
A wave of curses rumble over my captive audience.
“Did he rape you?”
That is Jagger from behind me. His fingers turn into vice grips where he holds my hips. One word and he will be out the door scouring the city for the target of his rage.
I shake my head. “No. He didn’t need to ruin me that way when he could rip my heart out and stomp on it while earning massive amounts of money.”
“Your father sold his debt to him, didn’t he?”
My gaze swings from the dark carpet at my feet to find Arabelle’s kind gaze. “He did. It’s how he kept my father silent and controlled until he eventually vanished. Like he didn’t have kids to worry about. And since my father couldn’t force me to sign, Oliver found a new way to make sure I did what he wanted.”
