“I’ll do some classes online, but there’s one I can’t. I have to be at class twice a week.” I bargained, breathing heavily and slipping my hand up under his shirt. I followed the light trail of hair up to his belly button, my hand spread wide, covering his tight, ripped stomach.
Optimus worked out—a lot. He used to fight quite a bit before his father died and he took over the club. Now he hardly ever gets in the ring.
He nipped at my throat. “You don’t leave the compound without a man. If one’s not available, you don’t go to class.”
I stretched my head to the side, prompting him to continue. His hands skimmed the waistband of my jeans, teasing me and forcing us even closer. “Okay, okay. Deal.”
He tasted my skin one last time with a soft kiss and then stepped back. “Good.” I was shocked by the sudden coldness and moved out of the way as he reached for the door handle. “And Chelsea, don’t forget who runs this club. I won’t be talked to like that by you, or any other club whore.”
He pulled the door closed. The bang sounded almost like a gunshot. It could have been with the way that his words sliced through my heart. It ached and I wanted to cry.
Optimus had always made me feel like something more. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be claiming me, but he’d never made me feel worthless either. I’d even heard him talk to others about how Harmony and I were more than just pussy, more than just a hole to fuck—that the men here loved us and genuinely cared about us.
I gripped my purse in my hand and threw it to the side. It hit the wall with a thump and I leaned back against the bedroom door again, sliding to the floor.
Maybe my time here was coming to an end.
When it came to Chelsea, I lost all self-control.
I’d spent the last week doing everything possible to keep my distance from her. I’d spent time at the strip club. I’d tried to entertain myself with Lou Lou—one of the other club whores. I’d even spent a couple nights with my own damn hand, hoping that anything and everything would take off the edge.
Fucking useless.
I was stuck on her.
And I had no idea what the hell I was going to do about it.
A couple days and Sugar would be here with Harlyn—my pride and joy, my baby girl. I wasn’t sure how Chelsea was going to react to that surprise, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good. I didn’t blame her. I’d never promised her anything and while we’d never had an exclusive relationship, it wasn’t unknown that I had feelings for her that went further than just sex. She was beautiful, funny, and all kinds of crazy, but I fucking loved it. She made me feel good, she made me smile. I could be me around her, I didn’t have to be ‘Optimus the Club President’ who not only had to worry about himself but every single person who was part of the MC.
I threw the door to my office open and it slammed back against the wall, much like I had just scolded Chelsea for doing.
“Having a bad day, Prez?”
I threw the door closed again before delivering a sharp glare to my Vice President, Blizzard.
“Get the hell out of my chair, motherfucker.”
He was reclined in my chair, his shit kickers propped up on the desk in front of him and his fingers laced behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. Blizzard was one of the most laid back guys I had ever met—the perfect man to be my VP.
He balanced me out.
People saw me as serious, scary and intense.
It was true. I was all those things. But I never used to be.
I had a hell that smoldered away inside me. It was just embers now. My fire, my light—that shit had been doused years ago. I’d lost my father, and the girl who I thought I would spend my life with both within a week. One, because I’d put my love for a woman before my club, and the other because once that fire was out, the embers that burned were only enough to fuel my revenge. There was nothing left for anyone else.
And if I was being honest, I was not sure there was even now.
I’d made mistakes back then, and it would be a dark day in hell before I repeated them.
I walked around and shoved Blizzard’s feet off my desk. They landed with a thud on the floor and he used the momentum to shift his body from my chair.
“So I’ll take that as a resounding yes?”
“Take a hike,” I muttered as I took my seat again.
“You actually cancel her college papers?” I clenched my fist and looked up. Blizzard was standing in the center of the room with his arms folded across his chest. He had an unusually stern expression on his face. I didn’t answer him, but he didn’t need me to. He had obviously heard it all. “Chel’s different, Op. You know that, I know that, all the boys fucking know that. She’s sexy as hell and smarter than your average club whore. What are you trying to do?”
I slammed my fist on the table, but Blizz didn’t even flinch. “I’m protecting her, just like I’m trying to do for all you other assholes here. We have the Mafia on our asses. Or does everyone keep forgetting that?”
“Protecting her or forcing her hand? You think if you force her to resit she’ll be around for just a little while longer.”
I ground my teeth together.
I wanted to get up and punch him in the face. But what he said was the truth. I kept telling myself I did it because I was protecting her—that not allowing her to leave the compound was in her best interests. But I knew … I knew as soon as she finished her papers that she’d be gone, finding a way to use her degree and I knew I wasn’t ready to let her go.
I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to let her go. But as far as I was concerned, being with me would only bring her danger and thinking about losing her too was enough to break me.
I’d forced myself to stay away from her the last week. We had a rat in the club. One of the Mafia’s own. Target had gotten to Harmony and put her in the worst kind of trouble as he attempted to take down the club using what he called one of our biggest weaknesses—our women.
While they valued family, women within the Italian Mafia were always to be seen and never heard. Things were slightly different with women inside the club. Sure we had the club whores, the strippers, and the hang arounds, but when we cared about a woman, we treasured and honored her like she deserved.
The bastard had informed us of his plan, including the fact that he’d known of my feelings for Chelsea and that she was the original aim before Harmony got in the way of his plans. Not only that, but that even if he didn’t make it the plan would still be in place, plus the added bonus of them coming to avenge his death.
I put Target down, but not before Harmony had taken her frustrations out on him with a baseball bat.
“You need to hurry up and choose, Op,” Blizzard said, shaking his head. “You know she’d stay in a second if you just admit how you feel.”
“She’s already on the DePalma’s radar. We don’t know who’s watching us. I need to keep as far away from her as possible. It’s the only way that she might possibly be left alone.”
He shook his head again and headed for the door. “Cool, I’ll go see if she wants to come up to my room then. Maybe that will throw them off the scent even more.”
Just hearing him say the words made me both want to vomit and smash his head in. I tightened my lips and gripped the side of my desk so hard I thought it may actually crumble in my hands.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“And you’re a dumbass.”
All I could do was stare as he closed the door behind him. I knew he wasn’t going to go after Chelsea. Not only was Blizzard my VP, but he was also my best friend. As cliché as it sounds, a lot of the time he knew me better than I knew myself, as he’d just proven.
My head told me I was doing the right thing. Being associated with me left her wide open. People would target her, just so they could get to me so I pushed her away, keeping her at a distance. I should just let her leave the club, but then my heart throws in his two cents and I can’t b
ear the thought of not having her near.
I was tearing myself in two—a jagged rift splitting me down the center.
I knew I was hurting her.
I was hurting me too.
One day things were going to tear completely, and I’d be left with a decision to make. Tell her how I feel and risk someone taking her from me forever, or let her leave and crush the both of us but keep her safe.
I looked to my left and found my father’s picture taking pride of place in the center of my office wall.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered. “Fuck, do I wish you were here.”
My feet hit the pavement hard, the tension in my body making its way out via my feet. I forced my legs to move, pounding them over and over again onto the sidewalk, pushing myself forward.
The upbeat electronica song played loudly in my ears and allowed me to keep a perfect pace, the music driving me, not allowing me to slow down. My legs burned and my chest heaved, but I pushed through.
It was only pain.
Pain could be overcome. Pain could be conquered.
I needed to run.
Ever since I was young, running had been what I’d known. I run to escape and when I needed space, I found delight in it. The only thing at that point and time that I needed to worry about was forcing one foot in front of the other and pushing my body forward. Always forward. I never looked back.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head.
“Don’t stop running. No matter what. Never stop. Don’t stop running.”
“But Mommy...” I sniffed, clutching at her dress as she lifted me up and placed me through the window. There were raised voices in another room, one of which I recognized as my fathers. A gunshot rang out loudly from what sounded like the kitchen.
“Run Chelsea, run.”
I took one last look at my mom, her eyes pleaded with me to move. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears and turned away. I took off toward the woods behind our house, passing into the cover just as I heard the second shot echo through the dark night.
I didn’t stop running.
I never stopped running.
I don’t remember much about my life before that night. Sometimes I wish I had more memories—memories of a family that loved me, memories of two parents who were willing to give me the world. I figured it was my mind’s way of protecting itself, blocking out the good so it wouldn’t make me weak so I couldn’t think about what I could have had. Too bad it hadn’t been able to protect me from the years of my life that followed.
Images of my parents flashed through my eyes, closely followed by the faces of the numerous foster parents that came after.
Alcohol, drugs, guns, death.
Just run them out, I told myself.
I wanted to numb everything. The only thing I wanted to feel was my heart beating and my muscles burning.
I caught sight of the clubhouse up ahead and picked up the pace even more. My lungs screeched for air and the muscles in my body all screamed at me to stop as I sprinted toward the compound’s front gates. The song in my headphones was quickly forgotten, the only beat now was the thump, thump, thump, of my tennis shoes against the concrete sidewalk and the erratic thrumming of my heart as it pounded against my chest.
I hit the wire fence with a clang and clutched at it, my fingers looping through the wide diamond-shaped spaces. For at least a minute, I stayed like that. Clinging onto the massive fence for dear life as my legs slowly began to get feeling back in them.
“You all right, Chel?”
I blinked through the sweat that was now stinging my eyes to find Ham had stepped out of the gates and was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Fine … just … catching … breath …” I managed to squeak out. He screwed up his nose as his eyes scanned me, but finally nodded and stepped back to his guard duties.
Ham was a sweet guy, older than the other two prospects at twenty-three, a late bloomer you might say. His full name was Hamlet. The patch members have been having a field day with that one since he joined. I guess his parents were both English majors with a weird love for Shakespeare—he also had a sister called Ophelia and a brother called Romeo. He grinned and bore it though and so far he seemed like a good guy.
I felt my heart finally slowing down and air began to flow more freely into my lungs. I pushed to my feet, my legs shaking and slipped through the small gap in the gate where Ham was standing watch with another prospect, Neil. It was just enough space to get a body through but not a car or even bike for that matter. I lifted my hand just to say hi and carried on to the clubhouse.
I climbed onto the deck and pushed through the bi-folding doors to the side of the main room. I frowned at the bottles that were scattered around from last night’s party. I wish these guys would learn to pick up after themselves occasionally. As much as I loved it there, sometimes it was more like a frat house full of teens as opposed to a clubhouse full of grown men.
I huffed, forcing my mind to ignore it for now and checked the time on my watch. I was on breakfast this morning. It was just after six and a lot of the men were early risers, even with the amount of alcohol they consume some nights.
I shot to my room and had a two minute shower, just enough to wash away the sweat that clung to my body and threw on a pair of track pants that sat low on my hips and a crop top that showed my stomach. With summer basically gone and autumn showing its face, the weather was in that weird maybe hot, maybe cold phase. Slightly annoying when you were picking out what to wear for the day. I figured it was easier to grab a sweatshirt and tie it around my waist because if I was cold, than wear shorts and have to go back to my room and put some warm pants on.
Not just a pretty face, right?
The club girls took turns with the daily chores. It worked for us and it meant that with everything spread evenly, we still had most of the day free.
Breakfast for me was easy, the men needed different options because of preferences and because some occasionally took on strict workout diets to keep their bodies in optimum shape. It wasn’t a requirement of the club to have a killer body and be good looking, even though you’d think so by looking at them. It was, however, expected that they at least looked after themselves.
I quickly set to work—baking, frying, mixing, pouring. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausage, cereal, toast, and coffee—these men needed coffee.
They filled the large dining room steadily. There was a buffet-like table for them to pick up their food and then a collection of tables and chairs scattered around, with the kitchen just through two large swinging doors. Because of the old hotel setup, it was perfect. I assumed this was where hotel guests came for continental breakfasts and maybe even lunch and dinners.
I picked at a plate of food as I watched members and club girls come and go. A lot of the boys thanked me with a kiss on the head, they may be tough bikers, but even they know not to bite the hand that feeds you. I popped a piece of bacon in my mouth just as Optimus walked through the doors with his arm firmly around Lou Lou—another club girl.
I almost choked. They both looked my way, but at least she had the decency to throw me an ‘I’m sorry’ glance. I didn’t blame her. We weren’t to say no to the men unless we felt unsafe or had good reason, but I’m sure she wasn’t exactly disappointed. Optimus was sexy, strong, and knew his way around the bedroom.
While I’ve been with my fair share of the men, there’s one who has slowly begun demanding my time a lot more than the others. Our great president himself.
Optimus is serious and stern and runs his club like he rides his Harley—hard and with purpose. He’s a fair leader, but the brothers know not to fuck around with him because he can be deadly. The Optimus I saw behind closed doors was my favorite. He could be charming and sweet and funny.
And oh when he smiles, Jesus!
Unfortunately, something or someone had broken him and he held me at arm’s length, just close enough to touch my heart but far enough
away to not let me see what’s in his.
I felt a pat on my back as I coughed around the small piece of bacon and watched them collect their food.
“You shouldn’t let it bother you.” I smiled and looked up at Leo. He’d recently had a haircut and his bushy mane was now very short and buzzed to his head like he was heading into the army. I had to say, I loved it.
“I’m fine.” I pushed my cheeks wide with the forced smile and held my arms out for the wiggling two-year-old he held. Harmony and I had helped raise Leo’s little girl Macy when his wife died giving birth. I still tried to help out when I could but Leo’s sister-in-law now took her a lot of the time during the day, so I didn’t get as much time with her as I used to. She was still wearing her pajamas and rubbing at her eyes, but she held her arms out toward me. Leo laughed as I took her and she snuggled her face into my neck, sucking her thumb into her mouth.
“Baby, you can come to my bed anytime. Prez is a brooding asshole who doesn’t know what he’s got when it’s right in front of him.” Leo smirked.
Leo was all kinds of sexy and good in bed. Not good, great. But since Optimus began taking over most of my time, a lot of the other men stopped.
Since Harmony and Kit left last week, things have been different. Optimus has been avoiding me. I could feel it and with him showing up this morning with his arm around Lou Lou, his intentions were clear.
I placed Macy on the ground and watched as she quickly waddled off to the nearest brother who didn’t hesitate to hoist her onto his lap. These sexy, strong, scary men had a soft spot—their kids. Not all of them lived at the clubhouse and some even had jobs outside the club. A few had children—some even a couple grandkids—at home. Family played a huge part in the club life.
Chelsea (The Club Girl Diaries Book 2) Page 2
