Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“No. I was having a beer with a friend of mine, Devon, who told me about the Reckless Souls MC, where he was a prospect. I went to the clubhouse, checked it out, and decided it was exactly where I belong,” he says calmly, and I can tell he really feels at home there.
“Why?” I ask, wanting to know more.
He frowns. “Why do I belong there?” I nod. “Let’s just say that my particular skill set comes in handy.”
“I thought it would be a more scandalous story,” I admit, slightly disappointed.
He chuckles. “Sorry to let you down.”
I shrug. “I thought maybe they saved you from something awful, and you were indebted to them.”
He laughs again, and I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “That’s some rich girl logic, babe. It wasn’t an Oliver Twist situation.”
“Bummer,” I say, trying to play it off.
“Not for me,” he replies, sighing. Lucky lets the silence settle around us again before he speaks up. “How are you feeling about the stuff with your dad?”
“Angry. Confused,” I sigh, tracing circles on his chest. “It’s making me wonder if this big secret is why he’s always been distant with me, barely interested in my life.”
“Maybe. It’s probably really tough, and it seems like he’s been undercover for a while,” he says, not downplaying my feelings, which I appreciate. So, I decide to share more.
“What if my name isn’t Aria Morgan? What if he finishes his undercover work and wants nothing to do with me?” I’m an adult, so it’s not like he owes me anything.
Lucky sighs, and I hold my breath, waiting for his response. “I never knew my dad. He was never part of our lives, and my mom OD’d when I was fifteen. It was just me and my kid brother looking out for each other, staying away from local gangs and child protective services.”
I look up when he stops speaking and see a faraway look in his eyes as if he’s reliving that life. I kinda feel the weight of his past, heavy and unspoken.
He blinks away the memories and smiles down at me, his voice full of conviction. “What I’m saying is that sometimes parents are overrated, even the good ones. You’re an adult, Aria, and you have resources that give you countless opportunities to figure out where you belong. You can live your life, regardless of whether he wants to be a part of it or not.”
His words strike a chord within me, and I spend the rest of the evening lost in thought, trying to envision a life away from Morgan International, a life without Daddy.
I can’t see my future, or where I belong, so I focus on the here and now. And Lucky, with his pocketful of orgasms.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lucky
I wake up to a sea of Pepto-Bismol pink with a smile, the morning sun warming my skin. The space beside me is empty and cold. I open one eye and then the other, spotting Frannie walking around the room, dusting and straightening up.
“Mornin’,” I manage, my voice groggy from sleep and exertion.
Frannie looks up from her chores with a bright smile. “Mornin’. You might wanna put that morning wood away before someone gets the wrong idea.” She chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Coffee is right beside you.”
“Thank you, Frannie. You are a goddess among women,” I tell her as I reach for the steaming mug of black liquid.
Frannie swats a dismissive hand in my direction. “Save your charm for someone else ‘cause it won’t work on me.” She dusts the nightstand on the other side of the bed and turns to me with her hands on her hips. “Be careful with Aria. She’s my friend.”
“You care about her,” I observe, noticing her playful tone has disappeared.
“Of course I do. I’m not just the damn housekeeper,” she grumbles. “We’ve been friends for years, and I love her like a sister. She might be bitchy on the outside, but she’s sensitive and guarded.”
I nod, understanding her concern. “I can tell.”
“She grew up in a bubble, and I’m the first real friend she’s ever really had. She might tell you otherwise, but those private school bitches aren’t her friends. She hasn’t seen none of ’em since she left the place. How’s that for friendship?”
Frannie snorts and gets back to cleaning the room, her brown ponytail swishing as fast as her duster. “She doesn’t trust easily, so don’t make her regret trusting you, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“Got it,” I tell her with a half-hearted salute. “Where is she?”
Frannie pauses her work and swings her gaze toward me dramatically. “She’s in Mr. Morgan’s office, snooping around again.”
I can’t help but grin at how easily she talks about snooping, and I wonder if the help has any idea what’s been going on right under their noses.