Owned by the Biker: Desperados MC

by Ashley Hall

  The King looks far less surprised. “Isabella! What are you doing here?”

  “I've come to speak with you,” says Isabella. “I've come to tell you that things are changing. That they already have changed.”

  Alexandra jumps to her feet. The needles and yarn and half-made blanket fall to the ground. “Isabella! You stupid, awful child! Where have you been?”

  There's no actual anger in the words. It almost sounds like she's upset. And that is what one must remember, for the Queen is a queen but she's also a mother. Those two jobs can be very conflicting, and it causes much turmoil in Alexandra's heart.

  She takes three large steps forward and then freezes. “I was worried about you.”

  “No,” says Isabella lightly. “You weren't. If you were worried, then you would have sent out the army; you would have been looking for me.”

  “They said you missed your flight,” says Alexandra. “I assumed that you were simply out with a man.”

  Isabella bristles. “I was not. I was being held under duress.”

  “Impossible,” says the King. “There's no way that we wouldn't have heard about that!”

  “Why would you? There's no reason to ask for money from a family that has all but disowned their daughter,” says Isabella. She shakes her head, and she holds up one hand. “But that's not what I've come home to discuss. I've come home to tell you that I will be getting married in the spring. It will be with a man of my choosing.”

  “No,” says Alexandra firmly. “We've already had this discussion! There is an agreement in place, Isabella, and I will not have you tarnish the name farther by breaking it.”

  The agreement.

  That's part of the reason for Isabella's fear, for her anger.

  “That agreement was something that you created,” says Isabella. “That's not my problem, Mother. You didn't consult me, and I didn't agree to anything that you left in that note or that you said to Sir Calbert.”

  “It's not up to you to choose,” says Alexandra.

  The King stands up. His face is grim, like he's just bitten something sour, like he's just seen something of the most awful sort. “Alexandra, sit down. Isabella—this man, he deserves a proper introduction.”

  Isabella waits until her mother is sitting down again to motion to Gabe. “Mother, Father, this is my fiancé. Gabe.”

  Gabe smiles. It's clearly forced. “I'd say that it was a pleasure to meet the two of you, but these are pretty shitty circumstances.”

  The Queen looks appalled. “Don't speak like that!”

  “Alexandra,” says the King firmly. “Let them have a chance to speak. You have made your thoughts on the matter clear. Whether we agree with them or not, it's only fair that we let Isabella speak, too. Politics are never fun, but they are important. Isn't that what you said to me just yesterday?”

  “Yesterday was different,” says Alexandra, and it's the closest thing to a pout that Isabella has ever seen on the Queen.

  “Just let her talk,” says the King. He waves at Isabella, much like he would wave at a visiting dignitary. It seems strange, being treated like she's just a visitor.

  Isabella clears her throat. “I will not marry Sir Calbert, and I will not be getting rid of my child. Whatever you choose to do with my status, it no longer matters. My life is not a political endeavor nor is it a game for you to play. It's something that I will never be able to get away from and something that I will never be able to forget. You may have chosen to enter into a loveless marriage, but that won't be my fate.”

  “This is no argument,” continues Isabella, before her mother can interrupt and say something untoward. “And there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. The fact that you're willing to let the news say such things about your only daughter speaks volumes! Whatever your own personal thoughts, you have done a great disservice to your country.”

  “You're the only one that has done the country a disservice,” spits Alexandra.

  Isabella shakes her head. “No, Mother. You have shown the world that you are willing to let your own kin's name be slandered. You will not stand up to the news, so long as they are ruining someone's appearance other than your own.”

  “That's a lie,” says Alexandra.

  Isabella says, “It's the truth. It's the truth, and you know that. You have done nothing to protect your daughter, and all of Davaria will see that. Soon, my name will not be the hot and up-coming scandal. It will be your name, and it will be your lack of caring.”

  Alexandra demands, “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” says Gabe. “But I might be. There are a few reporters that know we've come for a visit. If things go south in here, they might catch wind of it. They might just find out about the arrangements that you've made with Sir Calbert and all of the other foul comments you've made. Tell me, how do you think they're going to deal with hearing things like that come from the Queen's mouth? If she's so willing to speak like that about her daughter…fuck, if she's willing to disown her daughter over wanting to get married to someone that isn't loaded? You think they're going to have any respect for you?”

  Alexandra sputters. She looks absolutely taken aback. No one has ever spoken to her like that! It's never happened before in the history of Davaria.

  Even the King seems taken back by the display. Whatever he had in mind, it clearly wasn't this!

  But the young couple standing before them aren't ready to back down. They haven't finished here, not just yet.

  “Mother,” says Isabella, suddenly sounding more tired than firm. “I love you. I will never be able to not love you. But you are far from the kind person that I once pictured you to be. I came here out of courtesy to you, and because Gabe thought that it would be best to close one book before we opened another.”

  Alexandra sputters, “What are you talking about?”

  “We will be spending the night here. Then, tomorrow, we will be flying back to the United States of America,” says Isabella. “Whether you give me the funds or not is unimportant. Whether you continue to tout me as your daughter—as the crown heir apparent to the throne of Davaria—is unimportant. What matters is that I love Gabe, and I'm going to live with him. We'll be married, and we're going to have this child.”

  Gabe wraps an arm around Isabella's waist, pulling her close. “You have a choice. You can stay in contact with us and meet your grandchild when she's born or you can cut us out now and never know her.”

  Alexandra sputters. It seems she doesn't know what else to do about this situation. Truly, she doesn't. As the Queen, she's never questioned like this!

  Finally, she manages to say, “Get out of my house. Get out of my house if you think you can speak to me like that. We might not be on the best terms, but I am still your mother!” She jumps to her feet. “I am still the queen!”

  “Then you can be the queen of a dying family,” says Isabella. She sniffs, and then she turns around and escorts Gabe out into the hall.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Over the last few days, there's been so much going on that there's no chance to just stop and look about. But now, she can. Now, Isabella almost has too much time. Her mind won't stop spinning. There's no ring on her finger, not yet, at least.

  Gabe insists that there will be. Soon, he says; soon there will be.

  It won't be large. Gabe can't afford the grand thing that rests on Queen Alexandra's finger. But it will be special all the same, and the thought makes her heart flutter. It makes her stomach twist pleasurably.

  Dinner had been an uncomfortable affair. No one spoke, few even traded glances. The meal had tasted like ashes, and first chance she was given, Isabella swept off here, to the hallway.

  “Isabella?” Gabe's arms wrap around her from behind. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, yes. I'm fine. I was just looking,” says Isabella.

  Gabe smiles. He rests his chin against her shoulder, presses a kiss against the side of her neck. “You've been looking at that for a wh
ile now. Don't tell me someone just recently paid to have that ugly ass thing painted?”

  “No,” says Isabella with a soft laugh. “This is my Uncle Harris. We've had it hanging here for a very long time.”

  “Why're you staring at it like this, then?”

  “Well, he passed away last year. I suppose that I'm only now realizing how supportive he was of me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” says Isabella, lips twisting up into a small smile. “He loved looking at my drawings.”

  “You draw?”

  “Some. Not things like this.”

  Gabe presses another kiss to the side of Isabella's face. “Then what do you draw?”

  “Clothing,” says Isabella. “I've always loved to draw clothing. I like to design it. My uncle, he used to tell me that I could go places. That I could form a path of my own.”

  “You still can,” says Gabe.

  Isabella rolls her eyes, twisting around to slap her fiancé on the shoulder. “Gabe, I just don't have the patience for this right now. You know what I mean, and you're just being a pain.”

  “How am I being a pain?”

  “You just are,” huffs Isabella.

  Gabe chuckles. “I think you're just stressed.”

  “Of course I'm stressed!”

  “Stress isn't good for the baby,” reminds Gabe lightly. His hands slide down, resting lightly on Isabella's protruding stomach.

  He hums, leans down and catches the young woman in a kiss. It's not sexual, just a physical desire to be close, to touch, to feel. It's just lips against lips, tender and sweet. When they part, Isabella gives a little laugh.

  She's nervous, but being so close to Gabe just farther cements her decision. She asks, “Can I show you something?”

  “I don't know,” says Gabe lightly. “Are you going to leave me in the dining room again with your parents?”

  Isabella laughs. “No! I'm sorry that I did that. I just couldn't bear being down there anymore. But no, I wanted to show you something upstairs. In my room.”

  Gabe blinks, and then his smile gets a little bit lighter and his grip slides down to rest on Isabella's hips. The fingers go tight. “In your room, huh? Well, in that case, I'm certainly interested in whatever you have to show me. Just lead the way, my little princess.”

  Isabella unfurls herself from Gabe's grip. She grabs him by the hand and leads him down the hall. It's a big thing, a dangerous thing. A grand spiral staircase leads to the second floor, which has been host to Isabella's room since she was just a young thing. It's the place where she stays whenever they come to this manor.

  They finally make it into Isabella's bedroom. It's a large room, furnished with an oak vanity and a dark wooden bed. There are fairy lights strung up along the ceiling and silver candles sitting on the top of the dresser. Posters are peeling off the walls, and the whole room makes Isabella feel like she's a teenager again.

  “Okay,” says Isabella, taking a deep breath. She walks over to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer. There's a small box inside—dark blue and tied shut with a red ribbon.

  Gabe asks, “Okay?”

  “Okay,” repeats Isabella. “I have something for you. This is going to be a little strange because it's not actually for you. It's for you to give back to me.”

  Gabe laughs. “Okay. Why do I need to give it back to you?”

  “Because that's just how this works. And you have to be honest with me, Gabe. If you don't like it, just say so. It's not going to hurt my feelings,” says Isabella, but the lie lays heavy on her tongue. The truth is, it might crush her.

  She continues, “You said something the other day, and it got me thinking. I love you. And if you want to always be mine, I want to always be yours.”

  It was an impulse buy, not Isabella's first. It's still hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she isn't rich now. And yet, she doesn't regret this. She knows that this is the right moment for the box to trade hands.

  All the same, Isabella can't bring herself to look at his face. Instead, she stares firmly at the ribbon while it's being untied, at the lid of the box when it's pulled off and tossed onto the bed. She says, “Thank you for everything, Gabe. Thank you for coming out here with me, and thank you for caring about me in the first place.”

  “Of course I care about you,” snorts Gabe. “I fucking love you, Izzy.”

  Then he glances down at the box. There's a moment of complete silence. It's stifling, crushing. Isabella feels like her heart is about to break out of her chest, like her skin is about to burst into flames. She's blushing so hard that the bridge of her nose is red, and the color bleeds out across her cheekbones and creeps down the sides of her neck.

  Gabe asks, “What is this?”

  “It's for you to give back to me,” answers Isabella. “If you want to, I mean.”

  Gabe picks up the jewelry, holding it up so the silver chain links can catch on the light. It's simple enough, a silver chain with a hoop on one side, the only spark being the cursive his that's been carved into the hoop.

  Her fiancé’s cheeks are burning. Gabe's tongue runs over his bottom lips. For a moment, he just stands there looking at the anklet, not saying anything.

  Time stretches out in a horrible sort of way. It seems to pass and stay stuck, all at once. Isabella asks, “Is that okay?”

  “Is it okay? Isabella, this is…” Gabe cuts himself off, not sure what word to go with. “This is something. Yeah. Shit, this is totally something.”

  “Something good,” asks Isabella, “or something bad?”

  “Something good,” answers Gabe with a sharp nod of his head. “Something really, really good. This is…you want me to give it back to you?”

  Isabella nods. She gives Gabe a small, hesitant smile. “You could put it on me now, if you want.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “I am.”

  “Fuck, Izzy. This is a real fine piece of jewelry,” says Gabe. “And damn, I love the thought of this. It's so true. You are totally mine.”

  “Of course I'm yours,” says Isabella, and the words quell the pounding of her heart but only a little bit. “So, are you going to put it on me?”

  “While we're at your parents?”

  “Trust me, they aren't going to be looking that closely. Besides, we should be heading home in a few hours. We want time to ourselves, right?”

  Gabe laughs. The sound is loud and heady. “Wow, yeah. Yeah, that's right.”

  “So,” prompts Isabella when nothing happens. “Are you going to put it on me?”

  He's still laughing when he kneels down in front of Isabella, fingers stumbling and staggering over the latch of the anklet. Gabe isn't used to handling something that's so delicate. It's strange, watching him try to get the latch and eye hooked together.

  “Fuck,” says Gabe. “This is going to look so great on you.”

  “I look great on me,” says Isabella. “And I look great on you.”

  The metal is cold against her bare ankle. Gabe's fingers are warm, and the contrast is very noticeable. He presses a kiss to Isabella's knee, even though the fabric of her skirt is hanging down over it. “That's true. You know, I have to say, this is a pretty attractive view right now.”

  He has to lean back a little bit to look Isabella in the eye. Her stomach isn't overly large—she's still only in her first term. It's noticeable, though, and Isabella flushes at the comment.

  She says, “You don't mean that.”

  “I do. You're so damn beautiful.”

  She rests her hands on Gabe's shoulders, painted red nails running lightly over the fabric of his black button down. It's the nicest thing that he owns, and Isabella is honored that he was willing to put it on for something like this.

  Gabe slides a hand up, under Isabella's skirt. His palm runs over the back of her calf, fingers ghosting up to brush against the hem of her pale blue panties. “Being here's shit, but I'm glad to spend the time with you.”

&nb
sp; “Thank you for coming here,” says Isabella. “I didn't realize how much I needed to be here, to finish this off. Putting it to bed, it's a huge load off my chest.”

  “I know,” says Gabe. He palms Isabella's toned ass. Back when her parents ruled her life, she spent at least four hours a week doing yoga and other fitness exercises, for a fat princess was considered to be a bad princess.

  Isabella's breath hitches in her throat. She glances over her shoulder, but the door is most certainly closed. “Mother would have a fit if she knew we did something like this up here.”

  “Isn't that even more reason to do it?”