Page 5 of Ravaged and Ruined
I watch them go, the weight in my chest easing just a little. The casino, the alliances, the club, those are my responsibilitiesbut helping Emery, making sure this shelter happens, that actually matters.
The night wears on, but I don’t move from my seat. My beer’s half-empty, sweat from the bottle dripping onto my fingers, but I barely notice. My attention keeps dragging back to Lacey.
She’s still dancing, still oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I rub a hand over my jaw, exhaling slowly.
She’s not yours. I remind myself of that simple fact again and again, but it doesn’t stick. Not when I watch her move. Not when I see the way other men look at her.
Being President means sacrifice. It means putting the club first, always. It means dealing with the weight of a hundred different problems every damn day. And Lacey is a problem I don’t have room for.
It’s not just that she’s too damn tempting, too easy to want in ways I shouldn’t. It’s what having her would mean.
Weakness.
Not because she is one, but because caring too much makes a man reckless. And I can’t afford recklessness. Not with the casino finally taking shape. Not with the new alliances being forged. Not with enemies circling, waiting for a misstep.
And yet, every time she moves, every time she laughs, every time Dog settles at her feet like he’s staking a claim, I feel that recklessness creeping in.
I drain the rest of my beer and force myself to look away.
There’s work to do. There always is.
The Harlots’ deal needs locking in. The casino needs to get up and running without any complications from Ricci. The gun shipment coming in next week needs to be handled quietly. And now, I’ve got a shelter to help get off the ground. Lacey can’t be another thing added to that list. No matter how much I want her. No matter how much it burns.
I push up from my chair, leaving my empty bottle on the table. Maybe some fresh air will clear my head. Maybe distance will remind me why she can’t be more.
Maybe I’ll finally believe it.
Chapter Two
Lacey
The bass from the speakers rumbles through the clubhouse vibrating through my bones, but that’s not what’s making my heart slam against my chest. It’s him. Aero. He does this to me every damn time and it’s infuriating.
I’m not an Ol’ Lady like my best friend Emery or her new club sister Zoey, even though I spend most nights tangled in Aero’s sheets. He’s never made me promises, never given me a reason to believe I’m anything more than convenient, but the way he watches me like I’m something he wants to claim makes it hard to believe he feels nothing. If he does want more, he’ll never admit it. Maybe he’s not even capable of it.
I don’t need a label. I don’t want to force him into something he isn’t ready for but this push and pull, this endless limbo, leaves me feeling like I’m nothing more than a bad habit he can’t break. I’m not an Ol’ Lady, but I sure as hell am not a club whore either.
Tearing my gaze from his, I let the music take over, rolling my hips, swaying with the rhythm. The long skirt of my sundressflutters around my legs as I spin, catching the air. Dancing has always been my escape, my rebellion, the one place I truly feel free. But despite the heat of the crowd, despite the laughter, my mind is somewhere else. My thoughts are constantly floating back to one person, one man.
Dog, Aero’s overprotective mutt circles my legs as I dance and I reach down, scratching behind his ears. He’s been glued to me all night, like always, like I’m the one he’s sworn to protect.
I wonder if Aero notices. If it pisses him off. The thought makes me smirk for a second before it fades, because the truth is, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, all I really want is him.
I remember the first night I saw him at Emery’s club. He hadn’t been sitting at the stage, flashing cash for a glimpse of bare skin like the rest of the men there. In fact, I don’t think he even looked in that direction until I stepped onto the stage. But when he did, that stare of his locked onto me like a brand.
I danced forhimthat night. He hadn’t even touched me yet, but his presence alone sent my heart into a tailspin. The way he sat there, unmoving, watching me like he already owned me, it should’ve been a warning. I should’ve known then that Aero was dangerous. That whatever this was, it wasn’t going to end well.
I’ve never been good at picking men. Hell, my bad choices come wrapped in leather and ink and Aero with his brooding stare that makes my knees weak is no exception. His red flags aren’t just waving, they’re snapping in the wind, warning me to run but I can’t make myself walk away because for all the ways he pushes me away, there’s one thing I know for sure. When Aero looks at me, I feel owned. And God help me, I want to be.
The crowded dance floor is full of laughter and bodies moving together, and for a moment, I try to forget. Forget about him, and about everything that’s been hanging in the air between us for months now. I laugh, a little louder than I intend, as I throw my head back and let the music take over.
A hand brushes against my arm, and I turn, laughter on my lips as I meet the gaze of the man beside me. I don’t recognize him but that doesn’t surprise me considering the amount of people here tonight. It’s a party after all, the only real occasion that the clubhouse is open to outsiders but even then not just anyone is allowed in. If he was deemed dangerous or a threat of any kind he wouldn’t have made it past the gates so I let myself relax.
He’s dressed in dark slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He doesn’t look like the type to attend a party like this but he’s definitely a good looking man with thick brown hair, dark eyes, and an easy smile like he knows but doesn’t care that he doesn’t fit in here. He continues to move with the beat but keeps enough distance that it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
“Having fun yet?” He asks, casually tipping his beer bottle to his lips.
I grin. “You mean have I had enough to drink yet?”
