Page 5 of Lucky

This assignment is going to be the death of me, I swear it. Sure, early morning in this swanky ass neighborhood is fucking gorgeous, better than the years I spent in the airborne infantry combat team.

Nothing by land, air, or sea is as beautiful as watching the sun rise over Angel Harbor, but the beauty doesn’t take away from the truth; boredom is a motherfucker.

It’s another day at the Morgan mansion, and I want to pull my fucking hair out. Keeping Aria safe is my job—my only job. It’s easy as fuck, if annoying and boring, and once we’re done with the Morgan family, I’ll be able to move up in the MC in any way I want. This menial job will prove to Ace and Dix and all the rest that I’m a trusted brother, one they can rely on to do whatever the fuck the club needs.

Brothers first.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

“Morning, Lucky. Care for some food?” Frannie, the housekeeper, flashes a smile as she steps onto the driveaway, smoothing the skirt of her crisp uniform. She’s one of two housekeepers who live on-site to wait hand and foot on Aria and Geoffrey, but she’s the nice one. The other one, Beatrice, treats me like Aria does as if I’m the shit on the bottom of her designer shoes.

“Morning, Frannie. How goes the good life?”

She laughs sincerely, her cheeks slightly pink, probably from the hours of hard work she’s already put in, though it’s still early morning.

“Good and getting better with every minute,” she says and hands me a plate with the delicious scent of bacon wafting up from it.

“That’s good to hear,” I tell her with a sincere smile. “Thanks for the sustenance.” I lift the cloche, a term I learned recently to describe the silver dome rich people use to keep their food warm and inhale deeply.

“Smells incredible.”

“That’s because it is,” Frannie says with the confidence of a woman who knows her worth. She tugs her brown ponytail into place as she waits politely for me to devour my food.

“Then I look forward to eating every bite.” Before I can even pluck one fucking strip of bacon from the large white plate, here comes Aria snatching it away. “What the fuck?”

She glares at me and then Frannie. “Don’t feed the biker.”

My nostrils flare, and I narrow my gaze at the stuck-up woman in a silky pink robe. I can’t wait to be done with this fucking assignment. Aria is the epitome of a rich bitch mean girl, looking down her nose at me as if she’s superior simply because her father is wealthy when the truth is, he’s no different from me.

Both women disappear inside, and I ignore my growling stomach, wondering if I’m supposed to stand here and fucking starve like some poor, neglected puppy. I swear the girl is psycho.

As my irritation fizzles, I let my mind wander to Aria in that silky pink number, legs on display, blonde hair damp and sticking to her pink, freshly showered flesh, tits barely contained behind the silk.

“Here.” Aria’s voice is slightly husky and annoyed when she returns.

I raise an eyebrow, eyeing the loaded plate she offers. “Is it poisoned?”

“Wow. Paranoid much? No,” she laughs and shoves the warm plate in my hands. “I had Frannie whip up a fresh breakfast for you. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”

Ah, the games of the rich and pampered. I stare at the plate for a long time and then back at Aria, now sporting hot pink shorts and a pale pink tank top that, once again, shows off suckable tits. “What the fuck is your problem?”

She sucks in a deep breath at my tone and her golden-brown eyes widen at my bluntness, but my gaze focuses on the way her nipples harden behind the flimsy tank top.No bra.

Jackpot.

Turns out our little princess has a taste for the wild side. As quickly as the heat between us sparks, it vanishes, and she sticks her cute little nose up in the air.

“I don’t have a problem, thank you very much. I just don’t fancy having a constant bodyguard, especially a tatted-up biker like you.”

I sigh and dig into the warm plate of food, letting the silence settle between us while she sits on the step next to me and watches me devour half the plate before I say anything. My gaze meets hers, and I arch a brow.

“The Reckless Souls aren’t big bad wolves like you’re thinking. We’re a brotherhood that looks after each other.”

I don’t know why the fuck I’m defending my MC to this chick, who’s completely incapable of understanding.

She scoffs. “No need to justify your criminal behavior to me,Lucky.”Her gaze is full of amusement as if she has any fucking clue what she’s talking about.

I shovel a few more bites of breakfast in my mouth before getting in her face until we’re almost nose to nose. “Take a fucking look around, sweetheart. Your life. This house. That fancy Beemer you push around Angel Harbor, that designer bag you carry with your designer dog inside. All of it is yours because of fucking criminals, so you might want to check your fucking privilege and be a little nicer.”

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