by Nina Levine
“Chelsea,” he greets me after shooting Mason a filthy look. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Your favourite son-in-law decided I wasn’t a good enough wife.”
Dad’s eyes widen. “He did this?”
It strikes me that most fathers would have a far different reaction to their daughter turning up looking like I do. My entire body is covered in bruises. I’m black and blue and swollen. I can’t open one eye. After this, Mason’s taking me to the doctor to ensure I don’t have any broken bones. And yet, my father just stands there staring at me like he can’t quite believe I’m telling him the truth.
“Yes, Dad, Joe did this.”
“Where is he? I haven’t been able to reach him.”
Mason and I haven’t spoken about where Joe is, but I can guess. That’s a conversation we’ll have later, but it’s not a conversation I’ll ever have with my father. “I don’t know. I called Mason after Joe left me beaten in the backyard, and I haven’t seen Joe since.” I straighten my back and shoulders as much as I can and add, “And I don’t plan on seeing him again.”
“You’re married to him, Chelsea. You live with him,” Dad says. “You can’t not see him.”
“And you seriously think I’ll choose to stay with him after he did this?”
He looks between Mason and me. “We have an agreement for that, yes.”
Mason has been standing next to me quietly even though I can hear his thunder slowly building. At what Dad just said, he snarls, “This voids that fucking agreement, Novak.”
I place my hand on his arm and look at him, sending him a plea to let me handle this. Misgiving flashes in his eyes, but he begrudgingly turns silent again.
“I’m divorcing Joe, Dad, and you’re not going to stop me.” He doesn’t need to know a divorce won’t be needed. All he needs to know is I’m done with the marriage.
Fumes of anger billow from my father. “Over my dead fucking body are you divorcing him. I will not allow you to walk away from what we’ve been building. Between Joe and me, we will run this state for decades, and you, my girl, will not jeopardise that.”
Mason practically growls by my side. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it as I say, “You know, you and Joe threatened me and forced me into doing things I didn’t want to do, and I allowed that because the one thing you instilled in me growing up was fear. I was so scared of what you’d do to Mason and the people he cared about that I couldn’t see what was there right in front of me all along.” I let go of Mason’s hand and step closer to my father. “I had the power all along. I know where yours and Joe’s bodies are buried. All I have to do is share those secrets with the world, and your power disappears. All I have to do is decide that I won’t let you bully me anymore and take my power back in order to wipe yours out.”
My father stares at me with a look I’ve seen on him a few times. Anxiety. And suddenly I realise he’s known this all along too.
I don’t wait for him to speak. I’ve got more to say, and I want to say it fast so that Mason and I can get out of here. I cannot be in my father’s presence a minute longer than is absolutely necessary. “You will figure out a way to get rid of that legislation you introduced months ago against motorcycle clubs and you will push that through today. Once that’s done, you will resign as premier. If you don’t do these things, I will schedule interviews with the media and start talking, and with what I know about you and Joe, you will wish I didn’t.”
My father looks like he wants to murder me himself. “You won’t.”
“I will.” My promise breathes from me with all the fire inside me and Dad feels every lick of it.
He shifts his gaze to Mason. “I imagine this is all your doing. I should have ruined you the first time I threatened it.”
Mason steps next to me, taking my hand in his again. “I didn’t have a fucking thing to do with this. Your daughter found her feet all by herself. I’m just along for the ride.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you today,” I say to Dad before looking at Mason and letting him know I’m done here.
He walks me out to the lift and once we’re safely inside it, I collapse against him. His strong arms come around me and I grip his shirt. I don’t know why, but tears slide down my face as I say, “I think I’m going to vomit.”
He tilts my face up to his, and his thumb gently wipes my tears. “I’ve never fucking loved you more than right now, Mayfair. And not because you just stood up for my club, but because you are strong and soft all rolled into one. You love so fucking fiercely that it takes my fucking breath away.” He kisses me before adding, “If anyone ever tells you you’re not a badass, don’t fucking believe them. You have more fucking balls than half the men I’ve met in my life.”
“You did have something to do with this, Mason.” I hold his eyes as I mention the thing my father said. “You love me so completely that it lets me be a badass. Thank you for giving me that.”
As we exit out into the sunshine together, I know that no matter how hard it’s been being apart from Mason, it strengthened us.
The fire didn’t burn us, it built us.
I also know I never want to be apart from him again.
Mason Blaise is my forever favourite.
35
Gunnar
“Just got word that the cops are pulling back on watching us and that they’ve stopped investigating that engineer’s death,” Scott says, joining me in the clubhouse bar late Friday afternoon. “Also got word that Novak just resigned.”
I suck back some beer. “It’s a good fucking day, brother.” It’s been a good fucking week. Novak did everything Chelsea told him to, Chelsea moved back in with me, and she’s recovering slowly from the beating Hearst gave her. She also told me today that she’s done with her father, something I’d already taken as a given. It was good to hear her say it, though. She needs to be done with him.
I’m keeping my eye on the motherfucker. If he wasn’t her father, I’d deal with him the same way I dealt with Hearst. But as much as I want to wrap my hands around his throat and watch him take his last breath, I can’t do that to her. She might be done with him, but that doesn’t mean she wants him dead. Stripping him of his power sorted out our problem and unless he gives me a reason otherwise, that’ll be him dealt with.
“Tell Chelsea I want a word the next time she’s in here. She took our back and I want to thank her for that,” he says before leaving me.
My phone sounds with a text.
Alexa: Bring steak with you tonight and I’ll cook it for you.
Me: Since when am I coming over tonight?
Alexa: Since Chelsea arrived an hour ago and agreed to you guys having dinner at mine.
Me: Will I always have to fucking share her with you?
Alexa: Always. But if you put a hole through my wall the next time you bang her here, I’m not gonna be happy.
Me: I’m making that my top fucking priority in life as of now.
Alexa: Bring me some wine too. You know the one I like.
“You look how I feel after being ambushed by my old lady,” Nash says, pulling up the stool next to me.
“That’s because I’ve just been fucking ambushed by mine and my sister.” Not that Chelsea texted, but she would have known Alexa was messaging me.
He grins. “Welcome to the rest of your life, brother.”
I drink some more beer as we settle in and watch some sport on the TV in the bar. J joins us and we shoot the shit for an hour or so before I say, “I’ve gotta go.”
“You coming to Scott’s tomorrow night?” J asks, referring to Saturday night poker that Scott started up recently.
“Yeah, we should be there.”
Nash lifts his chin at me. “See you then.”
I leave the clubhouse and stop off to pick up steak and wine before heading to Alexa’s. When I arrive at her apartment, I’m greeted with a “Can you please bring the chips over with you?” from Alexa who’s sitting with Chelsea on her cou
ch.
I put the steak and wine in the fridge, grab the chips she wants, and join them. Chelsea smiles at me as I dump the bag of chips in Alexa’s lap and say, “I’m expecting good fucking things with dinner after running around getting steak and fucking wine for you.”
“How was your day?” Chelsea asks as she threads her fingers through my hair and pulls me in for a kiss when I drop down next to her.
I allow my lips to linger on hers for a long time before ending the kiss and saying, “Good. Yours? Tell me you saw the doctor today.”
I took her to the doctor on Monday after we saw her father. The doctor said Chelsea had no broken bones, but that she wanted to check up on her healing at the end of the week. I fucking know my woman, so I know she probably didn’t fucking go. She doesn’t like visiting the doctor because they’re always fucking running late and she has less patience than I do for waiting around at the doctors surgery.
“Yes, I went, Mr Bossypants. And I’m fine. All is healing well, so you can stop worrying about me now.”
“Baby, you know that’s never gonna fucking happen. I was put on this earth to fucking worry about you.”
Her smile is sexy when she leans in close and kisses me again. “I love you.”
“Okay, you guys,” Alexa says, “let’s focus. I need your advice.”
Chelsea eyes her. “What about?”
“I met my new neighbour today. He’s hot as sin and we flirted in the lift. Is it a bad idea to sleep with your neighbour? I mean, all kinds of things could go wrong, right?”
“Yeah,” I say as Chelsea says, “No, I think you should do it.”
Chelsea looks at me. “Why is it a bad thing?”
“Because he might be a needy fuck. He’ll always know when the fuck she’s home, and she’ll never be able to fucking escape him.”
“You’re assuming it goes bad. What if he’s her soulmate?”
“And what if he’s fucking not?”
Chelsea shakes her head at me and looks back at my sister. “Ignore him. If he turns out not to be the one for you, surely you can just ignore him.”
Alexa looks between us. “Well that helped.”
Chelsea laughs and I say, “Ask Calder. He slept with his neighbour and look how good that turned out for him.”
“Oh God,” Alexa says. “I’d forgotten about that. You’re right. I can’t do it. He might be a nutcase.”
“Did you see Mum today?” I ask, changing the subject.
Alexa nods. “Yeah, she was better today than yesterday. The new medication the doctor started her on seems to be helping.” She stands. “I’m going to get wine. Do you guys want a drink?”
“God yes,” Chelsea says.
I glance down at her as I say, “No, I’ll drive home.” After Alexa leaves us, I say to Chelsea, “What’s going on, Mayfair? Is your pain worse today?” It’s been gradually easing throughout the week, but I know she’s still feeling the beating she took.
She looks up at me and shakes her head. “No, it’s not too bad today.”
“So what gives?” I can tell there’s something going on with her after the way she practically just begged for a drink.
“I seriously can’t keep anything from you, can I?”
“Seriously, no. Now spill.”
She sighs. “I had to endure Joe’s father today, grilling me over where he is. If I never have to speak to him again, it’ll be too soon.” When I don’t respond straight away, because I’m fucking trying to figure out how I can help her with this, she says, “And no, you can’t help, so stop thinking you can. This is something I have to take care of myself.”
If there’s something I’ve learned in all this, it’s that I need to give Chelsea the space to find her way sometimes. Scott gave me that advice and she’s shown how true it is, and now I need to step the fuck back sometimes and let her handle shit. It’s the hardest fucking thing to do because my natural instinct is always to take care and take over, but I’m fucking trying.
“Where are you with the cops on this?” They’ve grilled her a couple of times this week.
“That’s the weirdest thing. One of them came to see me today and told me not to worry, that the case would work itself out and that he knows I didn’t have anything to do with Joe’s death.”
It is weird, but not completely unexpected. The club has cops it works with in times like this, so I imagine Scott has called on them. I make a mental note to ask him about it.
Alexa comes back with drinks for her and Chelsea, and they proceed to spend the next fucking hour talking make-up and hair while I zone the fuck out.
When Chelsea snuggles against me and starts on her third wine, I know we’re settling in for the night. And as fucking bored as I am with the conversation, I wouldn’t be any-fucking-where else. I’ll never fucking take Chelsea for granted again, and I’ll sit through as many hours of girl talk as I have to. This woman is worth every fucking second of it.
36
Chelsea
“What’s going on, Mayfair? You’ve been anxious all fucking afternoon,” Mason says while I get dressed for his poker night that we’re leaving for in ten minutes.
I yank the top off that I had on, annoyed at my own damn self for the mood I’m in. Mason’s right, I have been anxious all afternoon. I’ve taken it out on him, and God love him, he’s put up with it all.
“I don’t want to admit to you what it is,” I say. “I feel like an idiot.”
His brows furrow. “The fuck? Just tell me. You’re not an idiot and I would never think that.”
“I’m nervous about seeing everyone again. Like, I’m worried what they must think of me for what I did to you.” God, just saying it out loud makes me feel even more anxious.
Mason slides his arm around my waist and pulls me close. “You have nothing to be worried about. Everyone knows what happened and why you did it, and fuck, they respect you for what you did for the club.”
“Okay.”
He cups my cheek. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just…. I don’t know. I guess it’s important to me that the people who you call family don’t think badly of me. And I know that sounds dumb, but—”
“It doesn’t sound dumb.” He brushes his lips over mine. “I fucking like how important this is to you. Trust me, they don’t think badly of you.”
I believe him. Mason doesn’t lie. So I just need to get over my issues with this.
Stepping out of his hold and glancing around the room, I say, “I promise I’ll clean this mess up when we get home.” I’ve strewn clothes all over the place that I decided weren’t good enough for tonight.
“Baby, you’ve trashed this room worse than this before. This is fucking nothing.”
I glare at him and throw my top at him. “You are the worst, Mason Blaise. I’m having a meltdown here. I need support, not trash talk.”
He grins. “If you weren’t injured, I’d pick you the fuck up right now, and throw you on the bed and show you some fucking support.”
Arching my brows, I say, “So you’re saying I can get away with stuff thanks to my injuries?”
“Try me. See how fucking far it gets you.”
God I’ve missed this with him.
I moved straight back in with him on Monday after we dealt with my father and after Mason took me to the doctor. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the home I shared with Joe, so Mason collected the few belongings I wanted, and we shopped for whatever else I needed.
Being back with Mason is as easy as if we were never apart. We’ve been through a lot, but we haven’t allowed any of it to come between us. And as much as I believe I have a lot of work to do to rebuild his trust in me, he hasn’t given me any signs that’s the case. I actually think we both just know deep in our souls that we’ll be together forever now.
I wave him off. “You need to leave me alone so I can think straight about what I want to wear tonight.” When he doesn
’t give me the impression he intends to leave the room, I say, “I’m serious, Mason. You’re too damn distracting with those muscles and that face.”
“You fucking wound me, woman. Here I was thinking it was my fucking heart that you loved, and it’s just my good fucking looks.”
“Nope, not your heart. I’m shallow and all about your looks.” I tease him with a smile as I add, “If I were you, I’d be worried about ageing. Who knows what will happen to those looks?”
He closes the distance between us and hooks his hand around the back of my head. “I’m fucking banking on you going blind, but I’m not above begging.” He kisses me, deepening the kiss until my thoughts are in shambles because all I can think about is how much I want him. When he finally lets me go, he says, “You wanna revise your statement?”
Leaning into him, I smile up at him. “It’s your heart I love. It’s always been your heart.” Then, as his eyes soften, I add, “I only recently realised you have muscles to die for.”
He smiles and with a shake of his head, says, “You keep me on my fucking toes, Mayfair.”
“Yep, that’s my job. Now, go. I need to think.”
He finally leaves me, and I finally figure out what to wear. I also get my shit together over my nerves. And when we exit the house, I’m more than good, because I have Mason by my side, and that’s all I need to take on the world.
Mason was right, no one from his club thinks badly of me for what I did. That’s clear in the way they welcome me back in like I never left.
Harlow is all over me, making sure I’m comfortable. Madison invites me to the weekly session at the beauty salon the girls have. Velvet suggests we all do a yoga class together when she discovers I love it. Sophia asks me to join them all at her home next weekend for a painting get-together. At first I assume she means art, but it turns out they’re all getting together to help her and Griff paint their house. Layla tells me that if I can’t find a new job and am desperate, she’ll hire me in her bar. And Scott’s mum, who is on crutches, tells me to sit down and have a drink with them.
