"I know, right? The pain is real."
I roll my eyes at her as she flounces out of my office and back to reception while I smooth down my hair and grab my blazer.
Walking out, I look straight down the corridor to see just how hot this dad is… only, when my eyes lock on him, it's not his insanely good looks that make my breath catch. It's the memories that slam into me like a fucking truck.
Dawson Ramsey.
My teenage crush and the only boy I've ever loved.
I slip back into my room as my heart pounds in my chest and my hands tremble.
"Fuck," I breathe into the silence.
I knew there was a chance this day would come. I knew moving back to London was a risk, but I missed my hometown. I thought I'd be safe here. Clearly, I was wrong.
I take two minutes to compose myself before I smooth my dress down my thighs, hold my head up high, and walk straight down to him.
If he's here to finish the job his father started all those years ago, then there's no point in running. He's just proved that they'll catch up with me eventually.
I made a mistake all those years ago, and I escaped. It's time for me to pay the price.
Sucking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders and walk toward where he's sitting with a young girl. His daughter? Maybe. Or just a pawn in his game to get to me? Much more likely.
I might have had a heads-up, but that doesn't mean my body doesn't react the second his eyes lock on mine. I keep my focus on the girl, Emmie, too scared to meet his eyes. My temperature soars and my stomach tumbles with a mixture of nerves and fear. My fingers itch to do something, to expel the energy racing through me, but I have nothing other than the edge of my blazer.
He was always able to disarm me with one look into his dark, mysterious eyes. I can't imagine anything has changed, especially knowing just how strongly I react to just being in the same vicinity as him.
And I'm right, because the second I turn to him, my breath catches in my throat and it feels like the world's just been swept from under my feet.
Dawson was always good looking—hell, he was better than good looking—but the years have been good to him. His frame is wider now, his face rougher, but in a good way. His chin is covered in a thick layer of scruff that has my thighs clenching just looking at it, and he has ink peeking out from the neck and cuffs of his black button-down shirt.
Just saying his name feels all kinds of weird, and the second I look into his eyes, I realise that I was wrong. He's not here to kill me. He wasn't expecting to see me.
This is as much as a shock to him as it is me.
Our eyes hold for a second too long before I rip myself away and gesture for Emmie and him to follow me.
My legs feel weak as I make my way back down to my office.
Is this really just a total coincidence? Is he really just here to enrol his daughter?
Fuck. He has a daughter, which means he might be married. He might have the two-point-four kids, be happy and have a white picket fence. Or he could have taken his rightful position and replaced his father as Prez of the Royal Reapers, and although he didn’t come here for me, he could be leaving with very different intentions.
My head is spinning with a million possibilities by the time I push my door open and wait for them to enter.
Emmie walks straight in as if she's been here a million times before. Her dad, on the other hand, stops right in front of me. His eyes flick over my face as if he can't really believe it's me. I guess that's to be expected when you stumble across someone you thought was dead.
He shakes his head before continuing into the room and dropping down into the chair beside Emmie.
I try to take a breath, but as I shut the door, it feels like he's sucked all the air out of my small office.
"So, Emmie. You'd like to enrol at Knight's Ridge for sixth form?"
"Apparently so," she says, shooting her dad the evil eye.
He takes a breath and leans forward in his seat, making me press back into mine to keep as much space between us as possible.
"Emmie didn't have the best secondary school experience."
"Pfft," she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
I have to fight my smile. I like her already. She reminds me of me when I was younger.
"As far as I'm concerned, she's got two years to turn it around and open up as many opportunities as possible. She's a bright girl, but her previous school failed to inspire her. I'm hoping that Knight’s Ridge might just be the place for her to discover her potential."
"I'm sure it could." I keep my eyes on Emmie. If I so much as look at her father then I fear this whole meeting will turn to shit.
I already know I'm going to approve her application. Not only did Henry tell me to offer her a place when he bailed on this meeting, but there's no way I can refuse Dawson's kid. That could only make things worse for me.
"So, Emmie, tell me about yourself and why you think Knight’s Ridge would be a good fit for you?"
"Because he thinks it's a good idea. Honestly, I won't fit in here. I'm not rich. I don't come from money. I come from a council estate where people spend their days getting high instead of thinking about their prospects. I think this is a terrible idea."
This time, I chuckle at her. "I like you, Emmie. I like your honesty."
"What's the point in lying? Where's that going to get me in life?" she asks innocently.
My eyes fly to Dawson's as his narrow in accusation. I swallow down my nerves before turning back to Emmie to talk about subject choices.
Throughout my conversation with his daughter, Dawson's gaze never leaves me. My skin continues to tingle and my blood races through my veins at just below boiling point.
I fill out the paperwork needed for her application before I get to the part I need to discuss with Dawson.
"So, in regard to the fees…" I slide a piece of paper toward him, but his eyes don’t drop to it. Instead they just hold mine.
I can see a million and one questions spinning in his dark depths. I'm not surprised. If I were in his position, I'd have questions too.
"I've got the money. You don't need to worry about that."
Movement in the corner of my eyes catches my attention, and when I look over at Emmie, I find her staring at her dad with narrowed eyes. "How?" she breathes.
He shakes his head. "I have the money. You don't need to worry about anything else other than getting the grades I expect from you."
She pales and sinks down in the chair a little.
His eyes return to me and I gasp. They're darker than previously, even more dangerous, and it's in that moment I figure that he must have taken over. How else would he be able to get his hands on the kind of money he needs for tuition here?
His family never had all that much growing up, but as the Prez of an MC, the world is your oyster and you can pull in money from whatever avenue you wish. If you've got the balls for it, which I've no doubt Dawson has.
"Well," I cough, trying to clear my throat. "That's good. D-do you fancy a tour?"
"I can't wait," Emmie says sarcastically, earning her a warning stare from her father. She seems totally unaffected by it. I'm not sure I'd feel the same if he were to turn that warning on me.
There are only a couple of people I've feared in my life.
Dawson is one of them.
As we walk around campus and I point out all the different buildings to Emmie, Dawson trails behind, his eyes burning into my back and making my skin tingle with awareness.
"Do I really have to wear that?" Emmie sulks when I point out one of our upper sixth students making her way out of the library. "I thought sixth form meant embracing who you are and being yourself."
"No," Dawson barks, proving that although his eyes might be elsewhere, he is actually paying attention. "Sixth form is about finding out who you are and what you want from life."
"Sounds like fun," she mutters much to my amusement. "You'll be telling me there aren't any parties next."<
br />
"I should hope not. I'm not paying for you to continue fucking up your life."
Emmie shakes her head but doesn’t say any more as we follow the path back to the admin building and my office.
I talk through everything she's going to need to know, handing over reading lists, uniform requirements and all the other important information for her starting here in a week. The entire time, just like when we were outside, Dawson's dark stare remains on me. It's totally unnerving, and every time I risk glancing up at him, I find his face a mask of indifference and totally unreadable. I have no idea if his constant attention is because he's interested—probably not after everything that went down—or just because he's figuring out the quickest and easiest way to kill me—definitely more likely.
"You're talking like I'm in," Emmie says, shifting through all the paperwork I've passed over.
"You are."
"Haven't taken in enough charity cases to fill your quota this school year, huh?"
"Emmie," Dawson scolds, his voice so deep it has tingles heading south of my waist. I don't remember his voice being quite so gravelly and, well... hot, before.
"We're thrilled to have you, Emmie. I think, despite your reservations, that you'll do really well here."
"We'll see."
We finish up and Emmie reluctantly places everything I've given her inside the folder before pushing to stand, ready to run for the door.
"It was lovely to meet you, Emmie. I'll look forward to seeing you around campus."
She grunts at me as she reaches for the door handle.
"Emmie," Dawson growls, once again doing things he shouldn't do to my insides.
"Thank you, Miss Hill. It was a pleasure meeting you." Contempt drips from every word, but all I do is smile at her. She's not the first kid I've met who hates the hand they've been dealt. Hell, I was one of them only a few years ago.
"Emmie, please go and wait outside."
My entire body jolts as his words hit me. I can't be alone in a room with this man. It's dangerous, potentially in more ways than one.
Silence surrounds us before the click of the door shutting makes me almost jump out of my skin.
"What time do you finish tonight?"
"Um... What?"
"You heard me. What. Time. Do. You. Finish?" he spits at me, barely able to control his irritation.
"Um... I'll probably be done by four. Four-thirty at the latest. W-why?" I don't know why I ask; I already know the answer. Since his daughter walked out, his mask has slipped a little and I can read a little more into his intentions. Although being able to do so doesn't settle any of the unease that's bubbling away inside of me.
"I'll pick you up." He pushes to stand, his scowl still firmly in place as his eyes drill into me, daring me to defy him.
"I have plans."
"Cancel them. You owe me, Piper."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, yes you can. Cancel your plans. I'll be waiting."
My lips part to argue, but he's quicker, because by the time I look up, he's pulling the door open and walking through it.
"Don't let me down, Piper. It seems you were lucky the first time. I'll ensure that won't happen again."
As the door closes behind his warning, I fall down into my chair and drop my head into my hands as fear shoots straight down my spine.
I always thought I was lucky, that for some reason I was meant to survive the wrath of the Royal Reapers, but right now, I'm thinking dying that day alongside my family might have been the best option.
3
Dawson
"Let's go," I snap at Emmie when I approach where she's standing with the Knight’s Ridge folder under her arm, staring at the array of photographs and certificates of students’ achievements.
"I thought you'd never ask," she mutters, not helping with my frustration levels.
"Was it too much to ask for you to keep your smart mouth shut?"
"You bring me to a place like this, expect me to be happy about attending with all these rich pricks, and think I'm going to keep schtum about how I feel about it? Yeah, it's like you don't even know me at all."
I blow out a breath, trying to get the events of the last hour to align in my head.
It was meant to be a simple meeting to enrol Emmie and to talk about her future. I wasn't meant to walk headfirst into my past. A past I thought was long dead.
"I think we should go and celebrate," she announces once we're standing beside my bike.
"Celebrate? Celebrate what?" All I want to do right now is go home and drown in a bottle of Jack, but seeing as I’ve got a daughter to look after and a woman to interrogate in a few hours, I can hardly do that.
"I got into a posh school. It's not every day a girl like me manages that."
"Oh, so now you're happy about it?"
"Err... no, but any excuse for pizza. Come on, I'm starving."
She nods for me to climb on my bike, and I do so. Not because my sixteen-year-old daughter says so, but because she mentioned pizza, and I’m really fucking hungry.
I drive us back into town and pull up down the street from our favourite pizza place.
"So, how'd you do it?" she asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she sips on her glass of Coke. "Pops had something to do with it, I'm assuming."
"No, actually. I sorted it. Pops isn't the only one with connections."
"But ultimately, it's from him, right?"
I blow out a breath. "Fine. Yeah. Happy now?"
She smiles at me, but it's totally fake. "I'd be happy if you let me go to a normal college with all my mates."
"And fuck around for two years and not come out of it any better off? Not a chance, Em."
"You know, I thought moving in with you would be fun," she sulks, "but so far, you're just a hard-arse."
"Never claimed to be anything else, kid."
We spend the afternoon at the uniform shop getting everything Emmie is going to need to start school. We end up having to order most of it, seeing as she's a short-arse, but it still costs me an arm and a leg. I knew this idea was going to be expensive, but I have every confidence it'll be worth it. She needs it. She needs the challenge and the focus, and I need to feel like I've done the right thing by her at last. I've tried since the day she was born, but most of my efforts have been blocked by her mother—a woman I really wish I could regret, but sadly, due to the awesome outcome of that less than memorable night, I can't. I just wish that I'd chosen a slightly more relaxed and less psychotic woman to use in my need to drown my sorrows back then.
Thoughts of what I was running away from the night I met Emmie's mother leads me straight back to my current issue.
Piper Collins. The girl I handed my heart to, only to have her stomp all over it with her lies and betrayal, isn't six feet under like I was led to believe. She's walking, talking, and breathing the same air as me, and has been this whole time.
My fingers twitch to pick up my phone and ask my dad about it. He never gave me any reason to believe that he thought Piper had escaped his wrath after he found out the truth about what her old man was up to. But if I start asking questions and he really doesn't know she's alive, I could send him right to her door. And now I've found her, I'm not giving up that easily after the way she played me.
It's time for me to have a little fun.
I shower, change, and am heading out the door well before she said she'd be finished for the day in case she decides to slip out early and give me the run-around.
The sun is still beating down when I pull up in the school car park. I bring my bike to a stop right by the entrance and only a couple of windows down from where her office is. Her window is open, so there's no chance that she hasn’t heard my arrival, should she be inside.
I kill the engine, rip off my helmet, and put my Aviators on. Throwing my leg over, I rest against the bike with one ankle crossed over the other, and my arms folded across my chest.
Each second ticks by like it lasts fi
ve minutes. My watch taunts me as the time passes and she doesn't emerge.
I'm at the point of storming inside to drag her out myself when it gets to quarter to five, but just as I'm about to push from my bike, a figure appears behind the doors.
I watch, my eyes trained on her as she says something to the lady who greeted us earlier before she turns my way and walks through the doors.
"You didn't forget then?" she asks, coming to a stop in front of my bike.
My fingers twitch to remove my glasses so I can get a better look at her, but I don't want her to read what I'm thinking. It was hard enough keeping a neutral mask on my face this morning.
I drop my eyes down her body. She's dressed the same as this morning in that red, figure-hugging dress that does nothing to hide the curves she's developed since the last time I saw her. Only I swear her makeup has been freshly applied.
A smirk tugs at my lips that she's gone to the effort for me.
By the time I make my way back up her body, I find her standing with her hand on her hip and a brow raised, as if I'm boring her.
"Get on." I throw my leg over my bike and wait for her to join me.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Does it look like any of this a joke?"
Dropping my glasses into the neck of my t-shirt, I pull my helmet from the handle and drag it over my head.
"But—"
"I said, get the fuck on my bike, Piper," I growl.
Her eyes widen, a mixture of shock and fear passing through them, and I fight my smile. At least I'm not the only one who's been thrown for a loop today.
"Helmet is in the top box."
Turning away from her, I start the engine, allowing the rumble to settle me as I wait for her touch.
I tell myself that it won't be the same as all those years ago. She won't make my body burn with need with the simplest and briefest of touches. We're both different people now. Too many years have passed for that connection to still be there.
Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Page 2