Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Boney thinks for a minute. Then says, “I suppose since you’re here, you’re the new leader?”
“I’m the acting president. I was vice president to Gunner—”
“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about your resume. What I want is for you to listen to me and listen to me good. I want you to dismantle operations.”
“That will take at least a week.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck. Just do it.”
“But what about the Knights?”
“Like you said, the damage is already done.”
“But enough to get them run out of town?”
Boney chuckles. And it’s cold and smug. “I don’t need to run them out of town. Because I have a new opportunity to explore.”
I assume I’m the new opportunity.
“Which is?” The biker sounds confused.
“You don’t need to know. You just need to do what I told you to do. Dismantle operations.” Boney moves away from the bar. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Breathing a sigh of relief when they both leave the room, I take a moment to calm my racing heart.
That was close. If Boney had looked down, he would’ve seen me.
I run my hands down my face.
I must be crazy doing this.
Now that they’ve gone, and with the proof I need to bring down the mayor, I decide to escape through the patio doors. I crawl out from under the bar, my legs cramped and shaky as I make my way over to them. But when I try them, they’re locked.
Fuck.
I’m trapped.
I’m going to have to go out the front door.
That means sneaking out of here and across the foyer to the front door, while praying no one sees me.
Quickly shoving my phone back into my jeans, I carefully open the door and step into the hallway, careful to close the door just as quietly. But the moment I turn around, I walk straight into Millie the maid.
Double fuck.
“There you are,” she says, an accusatory edge to her voice. “I went looking for you in your room. What are you doing?”
I do my best to hide my panic and force a smile. “This house is so big. I thought that was the dining room.”
Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “That’s Mr. Boney’s private den. No one is allowed in there. Not even staff.”
“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” I joke.
But Millie doesn’t smile. “The dining room is down this way. Follow me. Dinner is ready, and the mayor is already waiting.”
Dinner is a nightmare.
It’s just the mayor and I sitting at a big table in the formal dining room. It’s a large room, but sitting next to him at the end of the table feels too intimate.
Especially with a lit candle burning between us.
To make matters worse, I know I didn’t get any photos of the town model in his den. Not that I need them. The recording of him and the biker should be enough to take him down.
Yet, what he wants to do with the land the clubhouse sits on feels more personal, and I want proof to show everyone how he lied about it.
But going back in there now would be suicide. If he catches me, he’d probably take my phone off me and destroy the recording.
I have to be sensible about this.
Although, it’s hard when I am right in the thick of it. Sitting with the devil at the table while trying not to look like I have something to hide.
I sit up straighter.
I can do this.
For the club.
His staff serve the main course and pour the wine, and Boney instructs them to leave us.
This feels more like a date than just dinner.
Is he really going to try and seduce me into selling him my land?
Ugh, he’s so gross. So greedy and smug.
He starts with small talk. Then makes his intentions clear when he starts to run a finger along my arm as it rests on the table.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Belle. I’d very much like to get to know you some more.”
He takes a sip of his wine but his eyes remain on me, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.
Because I know what that glint in his eye means. I know why his voice is thick.
I want to yell at him to stop touching me and the words tingle on the edge of my tongue. So I take a gulp of wine to push them down.
I have to go along with this.
For the meantime.
Until I can get out of here.
His finger stops on the top of my hand and draws circles over the skin while he looks at me with suggestive eyes I’m sure he thinks are sexy.
Let’s be clear. It’s not.
Clearing my throat, I reach for the wine bottle to pour another glass, but knock it over, sending a pool of red wine spreading across the pristine tablecloth.
Which ends the hand touching.