by Nina Levine
Leaning over, I pick up the daisies, putting them back in their vase, then take a deep, centering breath, trying to calm this conversation down. “How can I marry someone I haven’t even met? Someone I don’t love, Daddy?”
His weathered face softens if only for a moment, weakened at my words. “Savanah, I would do anything for you. I’d fall on my sword for you. This is why I need you to marry Hunter… it’s for your own good.”
Rolling my eyes, I huff. “Marrying Hunter is all about your business, Dad. What’s best for your company... merging his assets with yours. I’m not stupid enough not to know this is all an acquisition trade for you.”
Movement from my side catches my attention as Mom slowly walks in. Her chocolate skin seems so pale. The bandana wrapped around her head and her robe makes her seem a little disheveled. She’s wrecked.
“Will you two please stop fighting? I just want you to get along. I missed you so much while you were gone, Sav. I don’t want my final days to be with you both at each other’s throats.”
My entire body slumps as I rush over to Mom, holding her arm and helping her to the table to sit down on her special chair. Dad pulls it out as I pour her a glass of sweet tea from the jug.
“I’m sorry we woke you.”
Dad’s face is somber. He takes a seat next to Mom, holding her hand in his. “I’m sorry, too, my love.”
Mom’s eyes shift up to me as she lets out a soft exhale. “Sav, I love you more than anything. You know that, right?”
Tears well in my eyes as I stare at her gaunt face. “Of course, Momma.”
“Then, for the good of the company, you should at least meet him, Sav. Hunter is a nice guy.”
How the hell can I say no to my mother? A woman dying of stage four pancreatic cancer. It’s just not something I have enough power in me to do. I’ve never been able to say no to my mother, anyway. Now, with her terminal illness, it’s impossible.
My eyes shift to my father. His are full of so much hope—almost desperation.
I guess meeting this Hunter McHale won’t hurt. Agreeing to meet with him isn’t me agreeing to spend the rest of my life with the man.
I pull out a chair, slumping down onto it. “Fine. I’ll meet him. But this in no way binds me to marry him. It’s just a meeting.”
“Thank you, princess. This means everything to me.”
“To us,” Mom corrects.
I furrow my brows, grabbing the pitcher of sweet tea and pour myself a glass. “I still don’t understand the importance of all this. But, Dad, please, enough with the princess!”
He chuckles. “I’ll try, but no promises.”
“Then I will meet Hunter, but I can’t guarantee I will behave.”
Dad scowls as Mom places her hand on his bicep. “She’s teasing, François.”
As a low growl reverbs from Dad’s chest, I smirk. “Savanah, I need you to be on your best behavior.”
“Me? Since when do I ever not behave?” I let out a small laugh.
Mom and Dad both raise their brows.
“You just took off with your best friend to live at a biker clubhouse, of all things, because you didn’t like the idea of this arranged marriage, Savanah. You act first, then you think. You’ve always been this way.”
“Jovie’s happy at the clubhouse. I could have been, too, Dad. It wasn’t a whim. The guys and girls there are great. You talk about me not giving this Hunter a chance. Well, you’re not giving them a chance.”
Mom exhales, her sleepy eyes shifting between the two of us. “François, how about you set up a meeting for Sav and Hunter, and we go from there. No expectations. Just a meeting. He can come over for coffee. Keep it casual.”
“Casual, yeah. Sounds good,” I murmur.
As good as meeting your potential future husband can be, I suppose.
This shit is going to be super casual.
Lord, help me!
1
Savanah
My foot bops nervously on the tiled floor, the gentle tapping rings through our spacious kitchen. The sleek modern French provincial design is something my father brought with him when he moved here from France in his early twenties. Honestly, I have to admit, growing up in this home, I was spoiled. The white wooden décor, the French basket chandeliers, the expensive living—I had everything I could ever wanted or needed growing up.
So why was it never enough?
I suppose by being sheltered, constantly reined in by my parents, being told who I can or can’t be, what I can or can’t do, who I could see was the downside. And they’re still doing it now. Only this time, it’s on a much larger scale by trying to tell me who I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
I thought I knew who that was.
I thought I had found the man I was going to spend the rest of forever with, but he up and left me.
Without so much as a ‘catch ya ‘round.’
Guess his thoughts on forever didn’t match mine.
Maybe it’s why I’m so adamant about not getting married, let alone it being to a total freaking stranger. The idea of marrying someone simply scares the shit out of me.
What if they leave?
Because, in the end, everyone does, right?
Jovie, my best friend, left.
Technically, I left her back at the clubhouse, but she found her home—a new family to belong to.
Even the one person I thought I could always rely on, my mom, is going to leave me soon, too.
Everyone leaves.
So why should I put my trust in a guy I don’t even know?
My knee bobs at warp speed as the front door clicks. Two male voices project clearly from the hall as I stand, wiping my sweaty hands down my dress.
Why the hell am I so nervous? It’s not like you actually care about this guy, Savanah. Calm your damn head, girl!
Inhaling a deep breath, then letting it out, I rise taller, trying to give out the impression of authority.
“She’s just through here, Hunter. Follow me.”
Here we go.
I hope he’s ugly! It will be a good reason to say no to the marriage. If there’s no physical attraction, then this can’t possibly work.
Dad rounds the corner, his suit impeccably tailored, his eyes meeting mine with a hard glare in them, a warning imploring me to behave. He swipes his hand through the air, then forces a smile on his face. “Hunter, I’d like you to meet Savanah, my daughter.”
Hunter comes into view.
My eyes widen so fucking big I swear they’re about to burst out of their sockets. He’s tall, a little over six feet, dressed in a black suit, black shirt, black silk tie, but the darkness of his outfit suits him impeccably. The slight five o’clock shadow on his face makes him even more masculine if that’s even possible. His defined jawline screams alpha male, his eyes a rich amber with flecks of gold, hauntingly dark and ominous as they wander over my body, up and down, suggestively. The heat in his stare sends a shiver down my spine.
This man is definitely a bad boy—scratch that, he’s all man—and the way he’s looking at me has my thighs clenching together.
I wanted him to be ugly, so I could be completely turned off by him. But right now, I can’t for the life of me help but thank my lucky stars at how freaking attractive this man is.
He cranes his neck to the side, like he’s studying me, exhales, then turns to my father, breaking his gaze on me. “She’ll do.”
I jerk my head back in shock at his words. “Excuse me?”
Hunter turns back to me, not even fazed by my outburst. “This is business, Savanah. We need our families to merge. I need a pretty piece on my arm for show. After looking you over, you… will… do.”
“I’ll fucking do?” I scoff, throwing my hands in the air. “You think I’m even going to talk to you, let alone marry you after, you’ll do?” I lower my voice mocking him at the end.
The corner of his lips turns up like he’s slightly amused by my words.
If I weren’t so fucking angry, I’d almost call the smirk attractive.
“Us… together… it makes good business sense, Sav. What’s there to think about?”
I snort. “Nothing apparently. Because your wooing technique is so damn woeful, I wouldn’t even date you.”
Hunter takes a step closer to me, the air in the room changing with the intense stare he’s sending my way. “This isn’t The Bachelor, Savanah. I’m not here to give you a rose. This is strictly professional.”
My stomach churns at the thought of this arrogant asshole who has a slight tone in his accent I can’t identify.
Why my father thought Hunter-fucking-McHale would ever be a match for me, I’ll never know.
“Then, I want no part in this!” I turn, storming toward the front door. My arm brushes the side of Hunter as I go. Heat washes over my skin as I pass, but I ignore it because I’m too fucking angry to care.
“Savanah!” Dad calls out as I grab my keys off the key rack by the door. “Princess, get back here.”
I yank open the front door, then turn back. “I told you not to call me that!” I walk through, slamming the door shut behind me. Panting in anger, I rush to my car, hurrying as fast as I can before my dad or Hunter comes out to stop me.
I just need a second.
A goddamn moment away from all this fuckery.
Jumping into my car, I back up out of the long driveway, taking off. My tires squeal, and the back end spins out as I go.
I wish I were back at the clubhouse with Jovie.
Life was simple there.
I did what I wanted.
Ate what I wanted.
Talked to whoever I wanted.
I was free.
Here, it’s like I’m trapped in a gilded cage but with clipped wings and a broken leg to top it all off.
My life cannot be like this!
2
Savanah
A little while later, I find myself pulling up out the front of a cute little patisserie. Growing up with French parents means you develop a taste for French cuisine, so pastries will do nicely right now. I need a sugar hit after being verbally assaulted.
Parking my car, I head inside, order far too many macarons, then take a seat at a table staring out into the bustling streets of San Antonio.
I miss Jovie.
Honestly, coming into this place, smelling all the baked goods and thinking of Jovie, reminds me of when we hightailed it to New Orleans and met Jovie’s now partner, Kevlar, for the first time. A slow smile creeps on my face as the memory of us and Rush all sitting at Café du Monde eating beignets like the world wasn’t falling down around us. The four of us on the run from something. Me from my dad. Jovie from her family. Kevlar from the cops, and Rush, dear, sweet Rush, running from his life as a rock star.
Those were the times.
Then Jovie and I went to Houston Defiance and stayed there until all this mess happened with my mother becoming ill.
Being at the club with my bestie was amazing.
I really could do with a pep talk from her right now, but she’s super busy with Kevlar. Though, I also know she would be angry at me if I didn’t call and fill her in on what’s been happening. So I pick up my cell and run my finger over my favorite contacts list, hitting her number.
It rings a few times, then she answers with Sadie giggling in the background. “I miss you. We’re having a tea party. You should be here.”
“Yeah, Sav, we made rainbow cookies,” Sadie chimes down the line in her gorgeous little six-year-old voice.
My chest fills with warmth at the home I left behind in Houston. I came back here for my mother. It’s her final days. I need to be here for her, but more than anything, I wish I were back at the club with Jovie and everyone else.
“I miss you guys, too.” It comes out whinier than I anticipated.
“Sadie, I’ll be right back. I just gotta talk to Sav for a second. Make me some of those cloud cookies, okay?”
“Okay, Jovie,” Sadie chimes down the line in the background as I hear what sounds like a door shutting.
“Right, I’m in the hall. No kids. So, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
She knows me so damn well.
“It’s my dad—”
“Is he trying to force this arranged marriage bullshit still?”
Groaning, I slump further into my seat, then pick up a creamsicle-orange macaron and shove it into my mouth. “I met the guy,” I reply with my mouth half full of a sugary treat.
Jovie gasps. “What? The guy your dad wants you to marry?”
I swallow, immediately taking another bite. “Yes!” Crumbs fall out of my mouth as I talk—it’s gross, but so me right now.
“Are you stress eating?”
My eyes widen as I look down at the four macarons in front of me and the one in my hand.
I devour the mouthful with a shrug. “No.”
Jovie chuckles. “Sav, I’m gonna get in my car and drive over. It’s only what… three hours? I’ll pack a bag and stay with you for a little while.”
“Jovie, stop! You have a life, a family there. I’m okay. I just need a friendly voice, not someone who is trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.”
She exhales. “So, your mom… is she okay with this plan?”
Groaning, I take another mouthful. “She’s all for it.”
“Hmm… the thing about your mom, Sav, is she always has your best interests at heart. There’s more to this marriage than you know. I’d bet anything on that fact. They’re just not telling you.”
The door to the patisserie opens with a little ding of the bell. My eyes shift up on their own. The sight almost knocks me off my chair. “Holy shit!” I mumble under my breath.
“You okay?” Jovie asks down the line.
Sinking into my chair, my pulse beats rapidly as I try to hide behind the giant menu. “A blast from the past. Jovie, I gotta go.”
“Savanah, what’s going—”
I end the call sliding my cell across the table as I sink lower into my seat, trying to hide.
He’s exactly the same.
Short, cropped dusky blond hair, strong shoulders, bad boy face that screams, ‘Stay away. I’m going to break your heart.’ His iconic leather jacket and white tee fit him snuggly while his ripped jeans cling to his toned ass.
His swagger hasn’t left him. In fact, maybe it’s gotten more pronounced.
Yeah, Titus King is sex personified.
He’s also the man who broke me.
My eyes can’t shift away from him as he approaches the counter, ordering a coffee. Every other woman’s eyes in here follow him with each step he takes.
I can’t help but linger on his ass. Damn. With age, he’s only getting better-looking. My heart flutters uncontrollably while I bite down on my lip.
As he turns to make way for the door, I duck down further, knocking the menu off the table. “Fuck!”
He turns. Spotting me, his face is glowing with surprise as he notices me practically hiding under the table. “Savvy?”
I forgot he called me that.
I let out a ridiculously girly giggle. Oh my God. It’s so unlike me as I sit up taller, flicking my hair over my shoulder, trying to get a hold of myself.
How does he pull me in every time?
Without me remembering the pain he caused?
He pulls out the seat backward, turns it around, resting his arms over the top like he always used to do in high school.
Shit.
“King… long time no see,” I somehow force out.
His magnificent ice-blue eyes wander me up and down. Those eyes I got lost in so many times when we were younger.
King shakes his head. “Jesus, the years have done you good, Savvy.”
Heat rushes across my cheeks as I wave him off. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
With his day’s growth of facial hair, that damn jacket, and his cocky smirk, yeah, he looks real good.
“It�
��s been forever since high school. I can’t believe we lost touch. We were good together, you and me,” he states.
Pain sears through my chest at how he simply up and left without a single word. “Honestly, King, we would’ve kept in touch, but you left without a word. Remember?”
King exhales, his forehead dropping with a frown. He sighs, reaching out for my hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Savvy. I was going through some shit. Some shit I didn’t want you to know about. I’m a different guy now to who I was back then. Let me make it up to you?”
I hesitate, so I don’t appear too eager, but then I slowly nod. “Okay, King… for old times’ sake.”
He smiles wide, all toothy and fucking gorgeous. He really is a marvel to look at.
“Give me your cell. I’ll put my number in,” he instructs.
Willingly, I hand my cell over like some lost little puppy.
He programs his number in, then instantly, his cell starts ringing. “There, now I have yours, too. I’ll be in touch, princess.” He gives me his trademark wink.
“Oh God, don’t you start that shit up again, too.”
He chuckles. “Your dad still calling you that?”
“All the freaking time.”
He picks up his coffee, his ice-blue eyes meeting mine. “Savvy, it is then.”
Exhaling, I finally relax my body, sinking into my chair. “It’s good to see you, King.”
He reaches out, grabbing my hand again. His calloused fingers slide against mine like they have a thousand times before. “It’s so fucking good to see you. I’ll be in touch… soon.” He lets my fingers go, stands, spinning the chair back into place, and takes a sip of his coffee. “Savanah Del Rey, who the hell would’ve thought?” He shakes his head, then turns to walk for the door.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Titus-fucking-King.
How can I let this guy walk in and put me in a spin like that? He has some fucking crazy power over me, that’s for sure. I guess it’s why they say your first love is the strongest. Because even though he left me without so much as a note, and the pain was so fucking unbearable I was a wreck for months, he can still turn me into a bumbling idiot all these years later.