Page 22 of Satisfied
“Well, I wanted to do something for him after everything he’s done for me.”
I can’t stand this anymore. It chips at me to stand here and listen to someone so intimately familiar with Ransom talk about him the way she does. Every word she says only adds to the weight on my chest. “I…um, sorry but…Ransom isn’t here,” I manage to say. “He left a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, I know.” She beams. “I just came by to drop off the pie and meet you. I’ve been dying to talk to you, Abby. After everything Ransom has told me about you, I can tell we’re going to be friends. At least, I hope so.”
And yet, he told me nothing about you.
I hug my arms at the sudden chill, unsure of how to react anymore. A pretty woman is walking around the apartment, bringing him dessert, and talking about us sharing Ransom’s attention, and I have no idea how to react to it.
And he hadherbring flowers for my surprise? It doesn’t make any sense.
Maybe I should have asked instead of assuming that Ransom was single. I never would have imagined that he’d be involved with someone else, and from the looks of it, she doesn’t seem to particularly care that there’s another woman in his apartment. Hell, why should she when she already knows everything about me?
And I know nothing about her.
He told her about me. Everything.Christ.
“Abby, are you okay?”
Does she think I’m just a pity project, staying in the spare room while Ransom does a good deed and protects me from my ex? Or does she know that Ransom and I are more than roommates, and she’s okay with sharing him?
How am I supposed to act around this woman?
How I’d love to just walk out and slam the door behind me, but it’s much scarier outside. Jack is out there, with his fists and cruel words.
“Abby—”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, turning around and walking toward the balcony. I push open the door and step out, forcing deep breaths into my lungs. I ignore Chelsea’s presence when I feel her step up behind me, focused on getting air into my lungs. My muscles tense when a hand brushes over my shoulder, which makes her quickly pull away.
It’s not like me to act this way, but how can I behave otherwise? I feel blindsided and deceived for believing that Ransom was different. His sucker punch hurts worse, because I do actually have feelings for him.
“I’m sorry if I said something to upset you,” Chelsea says from behind me. “Ransom always warned me that one day my tongue would get me into trouble, and as always, he was right. I guess that day is today.”
I would have appreciated a warning from the man too, but it seems that courtesy was not extended to me. Even so, I have no right taking it out on someone I don’t know, so I turn around with an apology on my lips, except I don’t know what it is I need to apologize for.
“I guess today wasn’t a good day,” Chelsea says. “I’ll stop by another time, and we can have a redo.”
I’ll be gone the next time she shows up, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I simply nod and watch her walk to the door. She takes her coat and slips into it, then leaves without a word. I waituntil the door shuts behind her before I let myself drop to the floor.
Under the bright stars on the ceiling and the smell of roses, I let the tears fall, mourning a love that’s dead before it had a chance to bloom.
Chapter Eight
Ransom
When I got the emergency call to head to the clubhouse and deal with what they described as a “system failure,” my heart nearly dropped. I spent the entire drive picturing the worst—a rival MC cracking into our defenses and stealing data or exposing things I’m sure the Rebels would rather remain private. I replayed my security protocols in my mind, questioning every firewall and every encrypted key.
I was terrified, like I rarely am, that I had missed something.
Then I arrived at the clubhouse to find Saint and his vice president, Knox, pacing. They both looked genuinely distressed, and my gut clenched in fear.
“Good, you’re here,” Saint greeted me, and I braced for the worst as he led me to his office. I was already trying to work out in my head how I could counter an attack and protect sensitive information. Then Saint pointed at his computer and left me speechless.
I wasn’t sure how to react to what was staring back at me.
I’m still staring at it as I contemplate the odds of getting away with murdering the president of a notorious motorcycle club. One thing is for sure—I left my apartment and the comfort of the woman I am deeply in love with, all because theseneanderthals were panicking over a simple network outage. Saint doesn’t appreciate me telling him as much either.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Saint heaves, folding his trunk-like arms over his chest and glaring at me like I caused the issue. “The…the thing. The main server thing or whatever just stopped working.”
