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7

SADIE

The ride from the private airport to the apartment, if you can even call it that, was relatively peaceful. After Vincenzo’s driver picked me up from my house, he took me directly to Matteo who was already waiting for me on his private jet.

Matteo tried to start small talk with me while his stewardess licked him with her eyeballs, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I know if I say anything about Hawk and the things he said, Matteo will just tell me what an insensitive, ignorant ass of a man Hawk is.

He’s not wrong.

But Hawk doesn’t have all the information. To him, everything I’ve done is self-serving and a betrayal to the club. He doesn’t have all the facts, and thanks to Vincenzo and Kayce, and all the shit we’re tied up in, I can’t tell Hawk jack shit. If I could just explain what I know, what I’m doing, he would still be pissed, but Hawk would get it. He would understand.

And he wouldn’t hate me.

Matteo tried for an hour to get me to open up, and when it felt like the tears were going to start up again and I was struggling to breathe, I told Matteo I was exhausted and asked him to show me to the bedroom in the back so I could sleep until we landed.

I spent the next two hours, curled in the fetal position, replaying every harsh word Hawk said to me at the clubhouse. Not just today, but every dig I could remember him talking about me not being loyal enough to this club.

I went through every memory of him flirting, fucking, or dancing with a club whore or barfly he met. All the times he got caught fucking around in a public restroom with some random woman or strolled into the clubhouse half-awake after staying at a hotel with a hook-up for the night. I knew what he had been doing with them. All those other women. It was like sticking a hot poker in an already open wound and searing it. But it’s what I have to do to get myself over him. I have to remember who he really is, and why my dreams of becoming his ol’ lady are ridiculous and out of reach.

“It’s shit like this that makes it impossible for you to be mine.” Those were the words that finally broke me.

I never truly believed I would belong to Nathaniel. I had hoped and even dreamed from the time I was sixteen that he would see me as something more than a child to take care of, or an unwanted obligation. I did everything I could to prove to him I wasn’t a little girl anymore. To show him we had more in common than just the club we shared.

I took to learning about computers so we would have something in common, something to talk about. It worked for a little while. Or so I thought. We did have a common ground, and Hawk was all too happy to show me some of his tricks, and then I took to learning more than him. I started eating up every book, class, and dark web site I could learn from, and it finally happened. I bested him at his own game. And damn if it didn’t piss him the fuck off.

I broke into the school computer to help a friend who was being abused by changing her grades in the system so her father wouldn’t beat her for not being smart enough to pass. She wasn’t a bad student, but she struggled a lot. With shitty parents and no one to advocate for her to get help at school, I did the only thing I thought would help. Unfortunately, it cost me my life in Oakridge and landed my ass in a rich-prick-filled town and a snobby ass prep school. The best part of that whole situation was meeting Avery and bringing her home where she belongs.

Hell, at eighteen, I made my own tracking device, one that can be hidden in jewelry and clothing, so small it’s nearly untraceable to the untrained eye and looks like a common everyday accessory. No one, who didn’t know to look for it, would notice what it is. It’s perfect for children who don’t like certain textures on their skin or to wear bulky devices like watches or paracord bracelets. It’s even beneficial for Alzheimer patients and family members who suffer memory loss or other health issues that their family can’t always be with them but need reassurance of their whereabouts.

It was one of my prototypes that saved Avery’s fucking life when the Kings couldn’t find her!

The thought shouts through my head. I helped the club find her and bring her back home, but does Hawk acknowledge any of those things I’ve done? Yes. As reckless and irresponsible. More of my antics that could have cost the club.

Not how I’ve created something useful. Solved a problem for people’s families. Nor how I’ve created a business that is starting to take off all before my twentieth birthday. Of course the partnership with the Parisi’s came at a cost higher than anticipated, but if my trackers can help them stop human trafficking, it’s a worthy price to pay.

Even if it costs me my own life.

I can’t think about that now.

All I have ever wanted was to be seen by him. For him to realize we are on the same team and are both valuable assets to the club - that I’m worthy to be a King.

Maybe he did see me for a brief moment because he claimed me last night. He made that choice -to take me to bed - branding me as his. And with one simple sentence, he destroyed it all. I didn’t even get to keep the illusion for a full day before he snatched it away and made me face the harsh reality that I will never be his.

It's shit like club secrets and asshole bastard fathers and their fuck-ups that make it impossible for me to be his.

I knew Hawk wouldn’t keep me. I knew it was all an illusion because I was already set to leave. I knew he would never accept me when he discovered I helped Thomas. I knew. But somehow my stupid heart believed if he could love me enough to claim me, maybe he could love me enough to forgive me.

“I don’t know what the hell I was thinking claiming you last night. This would never work. I can never trust you to be honest or do what’s best for us or the club.”

“Fuck you.” I mumble to the empty space.

“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Matteo’s voice startles me, pulling me out of my downward spiral. “Is the apartment not to your liking?”

“This place is bigger than my house. I hardly think you can call it an apartment.” I tease.

Matteo smiles. “You’re right. But calling it a penthouse sometimes makes people think I’m a snob.” I turn to look at him, wondering if I heard him right.

“Was that a joke?” I smile. Matteo smiles back, and it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. The man is a god in a suit. Too bad I’m not into rich, Italian made men with a chiseled body and overflowing bank accounts.

Maybe I need my head checked.

Stepping into my space, Matteo purses his lips as he studies my face, his hand gently lifting my chin for a better look. “I thought you took a nap on the plane. Why do your eyes look swollen and puffy. Were the accommodations not to your liking, Dolcezza?”

I pull out of his grip, darting my eyes around the large expanse of a room. “I’m fine. Probably need a few more hours. It’s been a stressful few days.” He grunts as I spin away and take in my new home for the next few months.

It’s a wide-open space, something I’ve noticed in all of the Parisi homes. They like to be able to see every inch of their space. The kitchen is huge, all white counters and black marble with flecks of gold in the grain. The entire place is white walls, black leather, and gold accents. There are no family photos or cute throw pillows. It all seems so …sterile.

The only part of the space I find remotely relaxing is the wall to ceiling windows at the far side of the room. The view of the city sky is so beautiful. Even with the other tall buildings in view, it still seems peaceful up here. No one would know the mafia was up here planning people’s deaths and eternal damnation with a view like that.

“Come. I’ll show you to your room. Then you can tell me what you need for Paolo to do to set up your office space. Your things are waiting for you in your closet, but your computers have all been moved down the hall.” Matteo guides me by the shoulder, ushering me down the long hallway. The sound of his designer shoes tapping on the tile floors echoes as we go.

“Can we, I don’t know put something on the walls or some runners on the floors. Something to make it a little less eerie in here?”

“Eerie?” He asks quizzically.

“It’s so empty. Everything echoes. It’s cold.”

“I see. Well, how about this. Since you’ll be living here while we train and gather intel, you can put your feminine touches on the place. Would that help?” Is he for real? I know he’s a man who takes no shit from anyone and gives zero fucks about taking the life of a man who crosses him, but sometimes he’s so…sweet. It’s hard to see him as a badass killer.

“What?” He asks as I study him, a little in awe.

I smile. “Are you really such a teddy bear under all those muscles and expensive suits?”

Mattoe’s laughter fills the hall. When he finally collects himself, he opens the heavy wooden door and inside is a large, four-post black metal bed with a canopy covered with a dark blue, almost black comforter. Sheer black drapes are tied at each corner with dark blue satin bows. All the furniture is a dark walnut stained wood that goes well against the metal bed. The window’s covered with thick, heavy drapes, but like the living room the view is amazing.

“Wow.” It’s the only word to describe this room.

“Good. You like it.” Matteo says. “Your bathroom is right through that door. The other door on the right is your closet. You’ll find your things are already in there. If you need anything else to make you feel at home, special toiletries or whatever else you may want, let me know and I will send Ophelia, the house manager to get it.”

“House manager? Is that a stuck-up way of saying maid? I’ve spent a lot of time around rich assholes, and I’ve never heard that term used before.”

“You think I’m stuck-up?” He crosses his thick arms over his chest glaring at me.

I hold back a smile, not sure if I’ve actually offended him. You never can tell with these Italians. Vincenzo gets worked up over the wrong greeting when you answer a phone for fucks sake.

“No. I’ve just never heard the term.”

“Ophelia is far more than a maid. She ensures the penthouse clean, yes, but she also manages all the deliveries, keeps the kitchen stocked, oversees the cook, the doorman, and the maids. She manages the home like a business.” Matteo explains.

I nod, absorbing everything he’s said. I guess not all rich guys are stuck-up assholes after all.

“Get settled. Take a shower if you wish. Dinner will be ready in an hour and then I’ll show you to your office and also the place where we will continue your training.” I shiver slightly, knowing what he means and what the training will entail.

“Okay. Thank-you, Matteo.”

The door clicks shut behind him and I take a moment to lie on the bed and just… breathe.

No sooner does my head hit the pillow, then my phone chimes. Pulling it out of my pocket, I slide open the screen and read through the alerts.

My alarm has been turned off at the house. I open the camera feed and watch as Jake and Hawk enter my home, shouting my name. Jake heads for the garage while Hawk goes to the kitchen counter, flipping over my phone in his hand. I left the real phone and kept the clone. He can’t trace this one. Eventually I’ll get rid of it too, but I wanted to keep it in case Hawk starts going through the old one, which I know he will. I’ll be able to see whatever he’s doing with it and cut him off if he gets into something he shouldn’t. it’s the same program I installed on the thumb drive he took from me months ago and uploaded to his computer at the clubhouse. It’s how Tate has been able to help me stay one step ahead of everything.

When Hawk sees the keys on the counter, he picks them up, thumbing the rabbit’s foot he gave me when I first got Loretta. It was such a simple gift, but when he told me specifically that it was sapphire blue, it gave me hope. He gave me the nickname when I was a little girl because he said my eyes turn from a lighter blue to a deep sapphire whenever I’m angry or excited and he thought it was a beautiful color. I ate up every word and took it to mean I meant something to him. That I would one day be someone special to him. Afterall, why would he give me such a pretty nickname and allow only me to call him by his real name. Something he rarely allows his own mother to do.

It had to mean something, right?

A silly schoolgirl fantasy.

I watch as they comb the house and realization hits that I’ve gone. Hawk slams his hand on the counter, his anger visible even from the distant camera angle. He scrubs his hands down his face as Jake says something I can’t hear. Hawk nods. Jake’s hands go to his hips with an expectant look, waiting for Hawk. I zoom in the lens angle and watch as Hawk turns to look right at the camera, his eyes squinting. I gasp. He walks up to the camera, points his finger and says, “I’m coming for you, Sapphire.”

Panic fills my chest, and I kill the feed.