by Lilly Atlas
Heat rushed to Fia’s face, but she couldn’t keep the grin at bay. “We are.”
Lila squeezed her hand under the table. “We love to gossip and tease, but first I just want to say how happy we are for you, Fia. You’re a different woman than when you arrived.”
Her eyes misted with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She was done crying, for any reason. “Thank you.” She looked around the table at each woman.
“You thinking of sticking around?” Emily asked the question Fia hadn’t been allowing herself to think of.
“Oh, um, no. I don’t think so. My apartment, my…life is in LA, you know?” The excuse sounded weak to her own ears.
The women exchanged a look, but didn’t press then issue. Thank God. She wasn’t ready to talk about her growing feelings for Acer. Wasn’t ready to admit aloud that if he asked her to stay she’d say yes. Wasn’t ready—or able—to admit that the man she just might love didn’t possess the ability to trust her. That fact was the last nail in the coffin of their doomed relationship.
“Well,” Lila said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get to the important stuff, shall we?”
“Yes, yes!” Emily bounced in her seat. “I need mine soon or I’ll be too fat to fit into it. My boobs have already grown to twice their normal size, which was too big to begin with.”
“Oh man,” Marcie said around a giggle. “Jester must be in absolute heaven. Be careful, or he’s going to keep you knocked up forever.”
Emily’s face turned bright red, but she didn’t deny Marcie’s comment.
“Don’t worry, Emily, I took that into account when making yours. It should be fine.” She lifted the box she’d brought to the table and drew out three bra and panty sets. “Here, you go, ladies.” Each woman reached out to receive their lingerie. “Go on in and try them on. If you’re comfortable with me getting up close and personal, I’ll make some adjustments. Then it will just take me a few days to get them finalized.”
“We’re comfortable.” Marcie grabbed Lila’s hand and tugged her into the house. “Come on, you two!”
Fia followed the bouncing women into the house. Each disappeared into a different room, but emerged a few moments later.
“Wow, Fia, no wonder you charge so much. This is amazing. The quality is outstanding and I swear my boobs have never looked so good!” Marcie twirled in her lingerie and struck a pose.
Fia busied herself making small adjustments as the women chattered on about how much their men would love her creations. Each bra and panty set was different, but true to the initial design.
“Hmm, never had a woman kneeling at my feet while I stood around in my naughty things before.” Marcie winked down at Fia.
She laughed from her spot on the floor and removed the pin from the pin cushion her teeth often served as. “Sorry! Am I making you uncomfortable? I do this so often I forget that it can be weird for people.”
“Nah.” She waved a hand in the air then burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, can you imagine the guy’s reaction if they walked in right now?”
The other girls laughed along with Marcie. “I think their heads would just explode right here in your living room.”
“Which heads?” Fia muttered.
They all cracked up again until Fia had to wipe tears from her eyes. These girls were so much fun to be around. Her problems just faded away when they were together.
“Hey, Fia, do you usually wear your own designs?” Lila asked.
She stood and flexed her knees one at a time. They ached from kneeling for three rounds of fittings. “I do. I have a slight obsession with pretty underwear.”
“Ooh, let’s see what you have on?” With a laugh, Marcie grabbed for the hem of Fia’s shirt.
She stepped out of Marcie’s reach, folding her arms over her midsection, the phantom burn of the scars coming to life.
Marcie frowned and dropped her hands. “Gosh, I’m sorry Fia. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Lila stepped up and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s a hundred times worse in your head than it really is,” she said, her voice full of gentle understanding.
She gaped at Lila. How did she—oh, of course Lila knew. She’d been the one to treat the very burns that now felt like a hot poker boring into her side.
The women stared at her and Emily took a breath. They were her friends. New friends, but good, kind, and supportive friends. They’d each been through their own ordeals as well. Acer had told her all about how each of the women met their men. There was no reason to hide who she was from these women.
She blew out a breath and lifted her shirt, revealing the lacy bra that was a recent creation. She loved it so much, she’d sent the design to the factory that made her retail pieces. In a few weeks, she’d have stock to sell.
The room was silent long enough that heat rose to Fia’s cheeks. Then Marcie let out a low whistle. “That’s some sexy stuff, girl. I think from now on, I’ll be coming to you for all my unmentionables.”
Lila gave her shoulders a squeeze and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You never have to feel self-conscious with us. About anything.”
Emily stepped forward and gave her a hug. “Your strength is admirable, Fia.”
“Trust me, girl. No one will ever notice you have scars if you keep wearing undies like that.” Leave it to Marcie to shake her out of her negative thoughts.
Fia laughed and lowered her shirt.
It had been almost twenty-four hours since any thoughts of Mike or what she went through disturbed her happiness. Acer and her new friends were responsible for that. It would be hard to leave these women when it was time to go. And soon it would be that time. She was running out of excuses to stay with Acer.
She hoped he’d ask her to stay, not because she needed a place to hide away from the world, but because he wanted her with him. For days, she’d pretended that wasn’t what she longed for, but she could only ignore the truth for so long. She wanted him, wanted to stay with him, but she wouldn’t ask. It wasn’t the deal they made, and he’d been so amazing to her. He didn’t deserve her changing the rules so late in the game. And bottom line, she couldn’t live her life with a man that would never trust her.
It wasn’t her, she knew that. But the fact that he didn’t trust anyone fully didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow. She longed to be the one to break through his barriers, as he’d done for her, but she didn’t see a way to tear down the walls he’d erected around his heart.
So she’d leave, soon. And she’d miss these women.
It was nothing compared to how much she would miss Acer. It was time to stop kidding herself. She was in love with the man. The man who was part biker, part intellectual. The man who was patient, supportive, protective, and loyal.
Fia was healing from her trauma, but part of her feared she’d never recover from the heartbreak that loomed ahead.
~ ~ ~ ~
“What the fuck were those four up to when we left?” Jester’s hands were on his hips and he hovered over Acer as he dismounted his bike.
Acer leaned back in an attempt to get Jester out of his personal space. “Will you back up, you giant ape? I have no idea what they are doing. All I know, is Fia has been working on something she won’t let me within twenty feet of. Given what she does for a living I’m sure it has something to do with lingerie for the ladies.”
Jester backed up a step, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, well, that I can get behind.”
“What did you think they were doing?” Acer hung his helmet off the end of his handle bar.
Jester shrugged. “Didn’t even have a guess. It’s dangerous to try to figure out what women are thinking.”
“Especially when one of them’s knocked up.” Hook punched Jester in his massive bicep.
Jester snorted. “You ain’t kidding. Yesterday Emily cried for twenty minutes because her damned jeans were hard to button. Um, isn’t that a given? She’s pregnant, she’s
gonna get bigger.”
Striker rolled his eyes. “Brother, it’s going to be a long nine months if you don’t even realize women hate to gain weight, for any reason.”
“Fia seems like she’s doing real well.” Hook changed the subject.
Acer nodded. “She is. Come a long way.” He kept his face impassive in an attempt to keep the guys from knowing he was sleeping with her, but their sly grins showed they were on to him.
“Any word on Mike?” Jester’s stare was intense. He’d been the first to see Fia cowering in the corner at Mike’s house. He probably wouldn’t mind taking a shot at the fucker himself. Too bad. Mike was Acer’s.
“Had a hit on his credit card, yesterday actually. At a motel in Iowa.”
“Iowa? Fuck. We need to make a trip there?” Jester cracked the knuckles on his right hand.
Acer loved that his brothers were so ready to jump in and kick ass on his behalf. He shook his head. “I talked to a number of people at the hotel. No one by his description was seen. They have a security system as well, it’s shitty, but catches the door to each room. I hacked in and viewed the footage. No Mike.”
Striker frowned. “You think his card was stolen? Kinda far-fetched, don’t ya think?”
Acer climbed off his bike. “No I think he gave the card to someone to throw us, or the cops, off his trail.”
Striker grunted. “Fuckin’ piece of shit. You think he’s still a danger to your girl?”
Acer exhaled and shrugged. That question had been taunting him for the past few weeks. “No fuckin’ idea. That’s what’s so maddening about this. Not only do I want to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat before I slit it, but he still owes us a shit ton of money. He’d be the worst kind of fool to be anywhere around here, but who the hell knows how stupid he actually is.”
Jester clapped a meaty paw on Acer’s shoulder. “Sorry, brother, I know this shit is making you crazy. We’ll get the bastard eventually, and in the meantime, you get to keep your girl close.”
Keep his girl close. He and Fia were involved in this monogamous pseudo-relationship, and the most frustrating part of the entire thing was how fuckin’ happy she made him. But he was keeping secrets from her. At this point, he wasn’t even sure why anymore. He didn’t actually think she knew anything about their father’s plans. But something made him mute every time he thought of coming clean.
“Hey!” Shiv stood in the doorway to the clubhouse. “You ladies interested in joining us, or you too busy talking about your fuckin’ periods?”
“Sorry, pres.” Hook elbowed Jester. “Jest was just telling us about how he called his woman fat.”
“What! I did not—”
“Christ, Jester. You better sleep with one eye open.” Shiv rolled his eyes and moved to the side, allowing the group to enter the clubhouse.
Once everyone was seated in the chapel, Shiv slapped his hand against the metal table. “All right, listen up. You all know we’ve got shit going on at the border. Guys trafficking illegals through our territory wearing our cuts, or at least a replica of our cuts that’s good enough to fuck us with the Feds if they’re caught. We’ve got good reason to believe they’re gonna be caught at some point. Acer, I’ll let you fill everyone in.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his thick cigar.
Acer opened his laptop and pulled up a satellite image from the day before. He cleared his throat and ignored the gnawing burn of acid in his stomach. “Robert Wellington, the billionaire hotel mogul and owner of the Wellington Hotel group is trafficking Mexican immigrants across the border and shuttling them to his most recent construction site in the desert outside of Vegas.” He pointed to the satellite image where men were hanging out along the border.
“Your old man is a piece of work, ain’t he, Ace?” Gumby asked. Murmurs of disbelief floated around the room.
This was why Acer didn’t talk about his past; this was why he didn’t talk about his family. This fucking pity from his brothers. Yet, he spilled his guts to Fia, and even felt a smidge lighter after unloading his baggage.
“Shut the fuck up and let the man finish.” Shiv slapped a hand on the table in rapid succession.
When all the shocked eyes were back on him, Acer continued. “About eight months ago, Wellington came to me and requested our club be the coyotes for this very project. I told him to fuck off. I have no interest in helping the man in general, plus with the ICE presence down there it would have been far too fuckin’ risky. The men in fake NP cuts are his way of fucking with us, with me.” A snug band wound its way around Acer’s head tightening with each word he spoke. “I anticipate he’ll feed info to ICE when he’s about ready to wrap up the operation. The Feds will find these assholes wearing the NP cuts and open a huge fuckin’ investigation into our club. Won’t make a lick of difference that it’s not really our club. By the time we are able to convince the Feds of that, we’ll already be up a creek.”
“That’s something we cannot afford.” Striker lit a cigarette. He only smoked now when he was stressed. Lila would rip him a new one when she found out, as she always did. “We moved all artillery off premises to the warehouse, but that’s not a perfect solution should ATF come knocking. I don’t recommend riding around unarmed, but be on alert. We’re moving on a plan to shut this shit down, but we don’t know what’s already been communicated to the Feds. Don’t get caught with a piece that will get your ass tossed in county jail.”
“So what is the plan?” Lucky spoke up. He sat directly across the table from Striker.
“I’ve got some dirt on Wellington’s partner.” He specifically left out the fact that it was Fia’s father. She didn’t know and he didn’t want someone mouthing it off to her. “Dirt that would be devastating to him personally and professionally. Wellington himself has been very good at covering his tracks, but I’m hoping if I turn up the heat on his partner, he’ll crack and give me some shit on Wellington. Then, I’ll take him apart.”
Gumby looked at him. “You okay with throwing this all in your old man’s lap? One thing to hate the guy, another to destroy him.”
“Yes. I owe him one.” It was all he was going to say on the matter, and combined with the cold stare he shot Gumby’s way, it must have been enough, because his brother nodded.
“Good enough.”
“Acer, you squeeze your old man’s partner and keep us posted on everything. Let me know if you need anything from us.” Shiv ground his cigar into an ashtray. “Watch your sixes out there, gentlemen.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“All right, Isabella, I have your measurements, and you like all the designs?”
“Love, darling, I love the designs.”
Fia smiled and, since she was clearly visible on Skype, managed to resist the urge to do a happy dance. Isabella DeBlasis was one of the biggest snobs with whom she’d ever had the privilege of doing business. Luckily, the younger woman was obsessed with her merchandise and had been a loyal client for almost five years. “I’m glad you’re pleased with them. Just to run through the details one final time, I’m creating seven pieces, one for each night of your honeymoon, plus lingerie for your wedding day. It will take me about a month to complete everything. When we get closer, I’ll contact you to set up a time and place to meet for a fitting. I’m more than happy to travel to you.”
“Sounds wonderful, darling.” It wasn’t a conversation with Isabella if the word darling wasn’t dropped at least fifty times.
“I’ll just need half down as a deposit,” Fia said to the laptop screen. Conducting meetings on Skype had its perks. Isabella was clueless to the fact Fia wore sweatpants and her feet were bare.
She waved her hand in the air, her permanently upturned nose rising even farther into the air. “Please, darling, you have my American Express on file, no? Charge the whole fee now, it’s no bother.”
Cha-ching. This was a significant sale. Isabella demanded only the finest materials, including imported silks, gold threads, and cry
stals. She was a true attention whore and loved nothing more than to show off to her elitist friends as well. Fia always had a surge in clientele after working with the socialite. Her peers were just as affluent and not willing to be out-styled by Isabella.
“Okay, Isabella, I will. It’s been lovely to speak with you. I’ll contact you in a few weeks.”
“Thank you, darling. Have yourself a fabulous day.” She disconnected the Skype call.
Fia glanced at the clock on her laptop, her heart rate kicking up in a nervous rhythm. Twenty minutes until Acer would be home.
Back, not home. This wasn’t her home. Acer would be back to his home in twenty minutes.
She blew out a breath. Tonight was the night. If she had any hope of fully conquering her fears and truly putting the trauma behind her, there was one last hurdle she had to jump. It was a high one, but if she was successful, it would be worth it. Mentally and physically.
A shiver ran through her. It would be so worth it. And then she’d be free. Free to resume the life that had been put on pause three weeks ago. She sighed. At this point, she wasn’t even sure that’s what she wanted anymore.
She hopped off the bed and slid her top dresser drawer open. Two weeks ago, Acer surprised her when he moved the dresser from the guestroom into his bedroom declaring she’d be spending every night with him. Doing little things to make her life easier was his modus operandi.
Since then, the nights, and sometimes mornings—okay, sometimes afternoons too—had been filled with passionate encounters. She fell further under his spell with each passing day, but neither breathed a word of what was to come.
He had feelings for her, strong ones, she was sure of it. He may even love her, but he’d never admit that to himself, let alone to her. For now, it was enough to view it in his smoldering gazes and feel it in his sensual touch.
Or so she told herself.
She pulled out the teeny tiny thong she’d just finished stitching that morning. It was a deep, dark purple, Acer’s favorite color on her. The silk in the front barely covered her mound and the G-string style bands rode low across her ass in the back, drawing attention to the curve of her backside.
