MALICE (A HOUNDS OF HELL MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

I opened the door and damn near swooned when I saw him.

  He was dressed in a sleek, black tailored suit, his hair slicked back and his dark blue eyes were shimmering with life.

  “Hello, Beauty,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek.

  “Hi,” I replied, a jolt of shyness washing over me. I lifted my chin, determined to keep the shy, naive Chloe at bay tonight. I wanted to project the sophisticated, daring, mature Chloe instead.

  I wanted to impress him.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.

  “My driver is double-parked. If you’re ready, we should get going.”

  I pushed away a twinge of disappointment and nodded and smiled. He’d fucked me right away the last two times I’d seen him, so I just assumed he would do that again.

  I guess this was a real date, after all.

  “I’m ready,” I replied. I grabbed my purse and keys, locked up the apartment and walked to the elevator with him. After a silent ride down to the street, he whisked me into the back of the limo.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked, the bright lights of the city swirling around us reflected in his eyes. I’d already had two glasses of wine to calm my nerves earlier and I was a light weight when it came to alcohol. I could hear Marie’s warning in my head, my usual drinking partner.

  “There’s a reason we call you two-drink Chloe,” she’d say. I pushed her voice away and smiled. The nerves were too much. This was definitely a three-drink night.

  “Wine, please,” I said, having the good sense not to mix the wine with anything else.

  He poured me a glass and handed it to me and I did my best to sip it slowly. Taking deep breaths between each sip, I smiled over at him.

  “How was shopping?” he asked.

  “Max took me to Bergdorf’s,” I replied. “It was a lot of fun.”

  “Bergdorf’s? How boring,” he said. “I’ll get you a list of better places.”

  “They had a huge golden tree and the place was a madhouse,” I replied.

  “It always is at this time of the year,” he nodded.

  “Did you get what you needed?” he asked, his eyes raking over the tight black dress I’d bought. I thrown a long camel colored cashmere coat over it and left it open. Thankfully, the limo was warm.

  “I did,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, his warm hand landing on my bare knee. Shivers of pleasure shot through me and I felt the wetness seep into my panties at his touch.

  He smiled slowly and his hand began trailing up my thigh, pushing my skirt up with it. I moaned quietly as his fingers brushed against my bare skin.

  “Mmm,” he moaned approvingly. “Are you always this good at following orders?”

  “Are you always this good at giving them?” I quipped.

  He pulled his hand away and laughed.

  “I guess I am,” he said. “I’m not much for negotiating.”

  I smiled and pulled my skirt down over my thighs. He beamed back at me, then leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  “You look incredible, Chloe,” he said.

  “So do you,” I replied, my eyes trailing over his suit admiringly. It fit him like a glove, outlining the smooth muscles of his thighs, framing his wide shoulders perfectly.

  Of course, in my mind, I was ripping that damned suit right off of him, remembering the perfect flesh beneath it. I was much more interested in his skin and everything under that. The rest was just for show.

  “You’re sweet,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I replied, shrugging.

  “Nothing wrong with being sweet,” he said.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I replied. “Ask my mother. Sweet isn’t one of her most valued traits in a person.”

  He laughed and nodded.

  “You obviously don’t get your sweetness from her,” he said.

  “No, I don’t,” I agreed.

  “So, where do you get it?”

  “I don’t know, actually. I wouldn’t really call myself sweet, if you want to know the truth. Shy, quiet? Sure, but sweet isn’t something I’ve ever strived for. In fact, I like to think of myself in fiercer terms.”

  “Fierce?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I said, raising my chin, “Contrary to how I might appear to you, I’m actually a feminist.”

  “A feminist, huh?” he asked. “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be? So am I.”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  “What?” he asked. “You think just because I like to be in control, I can’t be a feminist?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I replied. “But since you brought it up, what exactly is the deal with you?”

  He blinked, his eyes widening for a second before wrinkling up at the sides while he laughed again.

  “Oh, Chloe, you do have questions, don’t you?”

  “So many,” I smiled.

  He patted my knee and brushed a quick kiss across my lips.

  “Hold that thought,” he said. “We’re here.”

  The limo slowed in front of an old building with big iron gates surrounding a patio and a line of small jockey statues adorning the top balcony.

  “Come on,” Bear said. “It’s a little fussy and the crowd is ancient, but they have the best steak in Manhattan.”

  We slipped out of the limo and he grabbed my hand as he led me inside like he owned the place.

  Eleven

  The restaurant was packed. Like something out of a movie, the lights were low and the entire place was surrounded by the dark wooden panels of the walls. And Bear was right—everyone in there, except the wait staff, appeared to be at least over fifty. I hadn’t seen this much white hair since my Great Aunt Sally’s funeral last year.

  Unfortunately, the tables were insanely close together and all my dreams of asking Bear dozens of probing personal questions flew right out the door.

  We were seated right away, because as soon as the maître d’ saw Bear, he sprang into action. Bear pulled out my chair, waiting for me to sit down before sitting down himself.

  We were seated between one very old couple on our left and a couple of businessmen deep into a discussion about the stock market on our right.

  “Remember, we’re here for the steak,” Bear reminded me with a wink.

  “I guess my questions can wait till later,” I replied.

  “We have all the time in the world, Chloe,” he said, sending a shiver of electricity through my body with those piercing eyes of his. He was by far the handsomest man I’d ever seen, surpassing even my old go-to movie stars. George Clooney and Brad Pitt had nothing on this guy. “Let me order for you. You do like steak, right?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I love it. Rare, please.”

  “Good girl,” he said, flashing me a smile. I blushed, remembering all the other times he’d called me that.

  My eyes trailed across the restaurant as he perused the menu and what a strange place it was. Dozens of old, vintage toys hung from the ceiling, which I thought was odd for such a fancy place. The waiters bustled around carrying silver platters and winding through the busy dining room. Glasses clinked and the low buzz of conversation created a frenzied energy that made it hard to relax.

  Bear put down the menu and a waiter appeared immediately. I watched him order, lost in the way his lips formed the words and I couldn’t help but anticipate when those lips would be on me again. When the waiter disappeared, I leaned over to him.

  “Why are you single?” I whispered.

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m a bit of a handful, if you hadn’t noticed,” he said.

  “Still,” I replied. “A man like you…rich, handsome…”

  “You think I’m handsome?” he asked, striking a funny pose.

  “You know you are,” I laughed.

  “Well, I could ask the same of you, Chloe,” he said.

  I shrugged, thinking of Harlan and immediately wishing that I hadn
’t.

  “I’m newly single,” I said. “Not soon enough.”

  “Ah, yes, the ex-boyfriend,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s his name?”

  “Harlan,” I muttered. “But let’s not talk about him.”

  “Okay, what would you like to talk about?” he asked.

  I stole a quick glance over at the couple next to us. The old lady smiled and leaned over.

  “You two are a very handsome couple,” she said, her voice shaking as she caught my eye.

  “Oh!” I replied, shaking my head, “we’re not —.”

  “—Thank you, ma’am!” Bear interrupted. “I think so too!”

  “Oh, you’re quite welcome, young man. Treat her well, good women are hard to find!” she said.

  Bear laughed, pouring on the charm.

  “Don’t I know it!” he exclaimed, before turning to address her husband. “Looks like we lucked out, Sir!”

  “Oh! You!” the old lady admonished him, blushing slightly.

  I sat there, smiling like an idiot, falling victim to Bear’s charms, too.

  When the waiter returned, he had a bottle of wine in his hands. He presented the label to Bear with a formal bow and I did my best not to giggle.

  “Sir, as you requested. A 2006 Chianti Classico Riserva.”

  The waiter poured a tiny bit in a glass and handed it to Bear. He sniffed it and took a sip, nodding approvingly.

  “That’ll do, thank you,” Bear said. The waiter poured the wine into our glasses and left the bottle on the table. I reminded myself not to drink too much again, wondering exactly how much that one bottle cost, at the same time. Probably a month’s rent at my old place in Portland. I felt guilty wasting it, but hopefully Bear would drink most of it, because if I had anymore wine I was going to be sliding under the table in a drunken puddle of embarrassment.

  “So, Chloe,” he replied. “Let’s talk about this job.”

  “Job?” I asked in surprise. I’d given up on thinking he was going to give me a real job and if he started talking about blow jobs and butt plugs in front of these people, I’d crawl under the table no matter how much wine was involved.

  “Yes, I told you I was going to give you a job, didn’t I? Did you not believe me? Besides, if I don’t, Matilda will start asking questions, won’t she?”

  “She already has,” I replied. “I just thought you said —,” I began.

  “—Something came up,” he interrupted. “I think you’d be a good fit for it. It’s a little outside the box, but I think you can handle it.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “What is it?”

  “You’re a fashion designer, correct? Well, I don’t deal in the fashion industry, but I just bought a new hotel and I need an interior designer.”

  “You want me to be an interior designer for a hotel?” I asked, my heart speeding up at the thought of such a huge job.

  “Sure, why not? I mean, it’s not fashion, but I figure if you’ve got style then you’ve got style, right? What do you think?”

  “Bear, I’ve never done anything like that before,” I protested, shaking my head.

  “That’s okay, you’ll learn. If you need help, we’ll get you an assistant,” he said, with a dismissive wave. He lowered his eyelids, the blue darkening in his eyes as he peered at me intently. “I have faith in you, Chloe.”

  “Th-thank you,” I stuttered, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst from my chest at any second.

  “You’ll have a handsome salary, too, don’t worry,” he continued. “With a full benefits package, of course.”

  I felt myself begin to blush again at the mention of the benefits and smiled at him.

  “My mother will be happy to hear that,” I said.

  “I thought she would,” he winked, his handsomeness taking my breath away. “Of course, I hope you realize that this doesn’t change anything about our previous arrangement. Everything we discussed earlier still holds.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, my body tingling. “You don’t think that’s a conflict of interest?”

  “I don’t really give a shit,” he said, the sternness returning, sending a jolt right through my spine.

  “I see,” I replied, sipping my wine again, trying once more to desperately hide the turmoil bubbling inside of me.

  How in the world would I know how to design a hotel?

  And yet, how in the world could I ever say no to him?

  “Does all of that work for you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding, as I swallowed hard. “I mean, I still have questions…”

  “Of course you do. And like I said, we have all the time in the world for questions.”

  Our dinner arrived at that moment and instead of asking my questions, I ate.

  Gloriously, slowly, decadently…I devoured each and every scrumptious bite of what was indeed the best meal I’ve ever eaten in my life. The wine kept flowing and I abandoned my intentions of slowing down. By the time our meal was finished, we’d finished the entire bottle.

  I didn’t really feel it until I stood up to go to the ladies room. I made my way across the room, doing my best not to trip in my new Prada heels.

  I need to find a way to incorporate some sturdy boots into my wardrobe if I’m going to be drinking like this, I thought, as I stumbled through the door of the ladies room and right into the most glamorous woman I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh!” I slurred and stumbled back. “Excuse me!”

  She’d been walking out as I was walking in and I ran right into her—my melting face doing a face plant right into her creamy, perfumed bosom.

  Blood rushed to my face and I looked up at her. She was amazonian tall, looming over me in all her manicured perfection. Her long blonde hair flowed around her like a satin curtain, with shimmering waves of golden softness that looked like it would melt if you touched it. I resisted the urge to reach out and do just that. It looked as fine as cotton candy and yet there was so much of it. Once I finally made it past all the waves and looked into her face, I gasped.

  Her eyes were purple. Elizabeth Taylor violet. I peered into them, drinking them in like I’d just seen a rare creature in the wild. Anger flashed through them like wildfire and I blinked and took another step back.

  “Excuse me,” I said again, stepping around her, my eyes quickly trailing down and taking in the rest of her. Her black sequined gown fit her sculpted body like a glove, outlining every curve of her lean frame. In Portland, we’d say she had a yoga body. But this creature was so perfectly put together, I couldn’t help but wonder if some of it was man-made.

  She was stunningly perfect.

  But Mom always told me nobody was perfect. I walked past her and ran into the first stall of the luxurious lounge and wondered what this woman’s imperfections were.

  It didn’t matter. I had plenty myself and the last thing I wanted to do was think about my own flaws right now, let alone anyone else’s.

  I needed to get my head together.

  First things first, I’d had entirely too much wine. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my composure.

  Second, these shoes were fucking awful. You’d think the fact that they’d cost a small fortune they’d be more comfortable than they were, but they weren’t. They dug into my heel and caused the arch in my foot to cramp. I couldn’t wait to get them off. I yearned for the comfort of my boots once again.

  I stood up and stumbled out of the stall and over to the sink, shaking my head the whole time. I turned on the gold plated faucet and watched the water run out in a thin, smooth line. I couldn’t help but muse about the fact that even the water seemed to flow better when money was involved. The sink in my studio back home sputtered and bubbled like a dying fish when I turned it on.

  This new lifestyle was going to take some getting used to, but maybe it wasn’t so bad at all. Being out with Bear certainly wasn’t bad, either.

  I looked up into the mirror and was shocked to see the woman still sta
nding there. Leaning against the wall and casually checking her perfect scarlet nails, she looked up and smirked at me.

  “I saw you with Bear,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Y-yes,” I replied, drying my hands and turning to her. “I’m Chloe,” I said, holding my hand out towards her.

  She looked down at my hand suspended in the air between us and snarled. She literally fucking snarled! I pulled my arm back down to my side and took a deep breath.

  “I’m Zoe,” she said. “Zoe Rothchild.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I nodded, trying to muster a polite smile, despite her rudeness.

  “You fuck him yet?” she asked suddenly, her violet eyes turning cold and hard.

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “He’s my employer,” I replied, finally finding my voice.

  “Oh, I see,” she nodded, her eyes trailing over me as she sized me up. “So, not yet.”

  “Have you fucked him?” I asked, the wine shooting rare courage through my veins.

  “Once,” she quipped. “Let’s just say he has certain peccadilloes that only appeal to a small audience.”

  I nodded, biting my tongue, despite the urge to say something, anything, to knock this woman off her high-horse. I hated her instantly.

  “Just watch yourself, Chloe,” she drawled, her lush red lips turning to a sickly smirk. “He may be powerful, handsome, and generous—but Bear Dalton is not at all what he seems,” she warned.

  “You seem like a nice girl,” she shrugged, staring deeply into my eyes. “But be warned—Bear will eat you alive.”

  I had no idea how to respond. Luckily, I didn’t have to.

  She shook her head slowly before turning on her heel and walking out.

  I exhaled and realized I’d been holding my breath the whole time.

  Her words sliced right through me, sending a dagger of doubt right into my gut.

  At my front door two hours later, Bear paused before walking in behind me.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked, turning to him, hating that I’d slurred my words again.

  “Not tonight, Beauty,” he said, planting a gentlemanly kiss on my cheek.

  “Why not?” I asked, disappointment rushing into my heart. I’d been anticipating being alone with him all night. Each time he raised his glass to his lips, a tiny shiver ran through my body as I imagined how his touch would feel later. I’d even set out the best negligee I’d bought on my bed.