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Chapter eight

Matty

"Your place?" I echoed, looking between Novo and the prospect who'd spoken. "You have a place? Like, not at the clubhouse?"

Novo shot the prospect a glare that could have melted steel before turning to me with a carefully neutral expression. "Yeah. I have a house on the club property. Behind the main building."

"Oh." I set down my toast, suddenly not hungry anymore. "Why didn't you mention it before?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Why had he insisted on staying at my cramped apartment when he had his own house? Why had we slept in this small room at the clubhouse when there was another option?

"It didn't come up," Novo said, his voice tight. "And your apartment was closer to your work."

"Right." I nodded slowly, not believing him for a second. But it was none of my business. I was supposed to be paying for all our expenses.

Daisy cleared her throat. "I'll just... check on those prospects." She hurried out, leaving Novo and me in uncomfortable silence.

I stared at my plate, trying to process this new information. It shouldn't bother me—our marriage was a business arrangement, after all. But something about Novo deliberately keeping his house a secret stung in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"Matty—" Novo began, but I cut him off.

"It's fine," I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. "It makes sense. You barely know me. Why would you want me in your personal space?"

Novo's expression darkened. "That's not—"

"Really, it's fine," I insisted, standing up too quickly. The room swayed, and I gripped the edge of the table for support. "I should go check on my things. Make sure they got everything important."

I fled the kitchen before Novo could respond, following the sound of voices to the main room where the prospects were unloading boxes. My head throbbed with each step, Daisy's remedy only partially effective against the combination of hangover and emotional whiplash.

The prospects—two guys whose names I didn't know—had stacked several boxes and a duffel bag near the door. I spotted Patches sitting on top of one, and relief flooded through me at the sight of the stuffed dog.

"You must be Matty," one of the young men said straightening up when he saw me. "We got everything we could find. Clothes, toiletries, some books."

"Thank you," I said quietly, picking up Patches and hugging him to my chest. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," the other prospect, a skinny blond man, replied. "Bear's orders."

"Name's Tik Tac," the first one said seeming friendly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Bear. Novo. My husband who had a house he hadn't told me about. Although why I was so upset I had no idea. He didn't owe me anything.

And he saved your life.

I felt the heat creep into my cheeks.

"Where should we put all this?" Tik Tac asked, gesturing to the boxes.

Before I could answer, Novo was behind me, his large hand settling on my lower back.

"Take them to my place," he said, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. "Put them in the spare bedroom."

"No, it's okay," I said. "I'm sure you have a garage or storage space. No point unpacking anything as I'm going to go back to my place soon anyway."

Novo's expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer to me. "You're not going back to your apartment."

"I'll be fine," I insisted, hugging Patches tighter. "I can't impose on you forever."

"Impose?" Novo's voice dropped dangerously low. "Someone tried to kill you yesterday. This isn't about imposing."

The prospects exchanged uncomfortable glances before Novo jerked his head toward the door. "Out. Now."

They hurried away, leaving us alone with my meager possessions. Novo took a deep breath, visibly trying to control his temper.

"You're not going back there," he said, each word measured and deliberate. "It's not safe."

"I can take care of myself," I argued, even as a voice in my head screamed about how ridiculous that statement was given recent events.

"Like you did yesterday?" Novo countered, his blue eyes blazing. "If I hadn't been there—"

"I know," I snapped, suddenly angry. "I know I'm pathetic and helpless and a complete disaster. You don't have to remind me."

Novo's expression shifted, surprise replacing anger. "That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?" I challenged, tears threatening. "Poor little Matty who can't even cross the street without nearly getting killed. Who gets fired from a minimum wage job. Who has to pay someone to marry him because no one would want him otherwise."

"Matty—"

"Just... just tell me where I'm staying, then," I said, deflating suddenly. "Since I apparently don't get a say in the matter."

Novo studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand over his beard. "You're staying with me. At my house. Where I can keep you safe."

"Fine," I whispered, exhaustion washing over me. The hangover, the emotional rollercoaster, the constant fear—it was all too much.

"It's not about not wanting you in my space," Novo said quietly. "I just... I like my privacy. It's nothing personal."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It shouldn't hurt—his explanation made perfect sense. But the knowledge that he'd deliberately kept his real home from me stung in ways I couldn't articulate.

"Come on," Novo said, his voice gentler now. "I'll show you where you'll be staying."

He picked up two of the boxes while I clutched Patches and my duffel bag.

We exited through a back door of the clubhouse and followed a gravel path that wound behind the main building.

About fifty yards back stood a group of seven cabins.

Novo led me to the one on the right, partially hidden by trees.

"It's not much," Novo said as we approached. "But it's home."

He balanced the boxes on his hip to unlock the door, then shouldered it open. I followed him inside and stopped in my tracks. The cabin was nothing like I'd expected. Instead of alpha-male hunting lodge, it was... beautiful.

Rich wooden walls gave the space a warm, amber glow.

A stone fireplace dominated one wall of the open living area, flanked by built-in bookshelves filled with actual books.

A large leather couch faced the fireplace, worn in places but clearly well-loved, with a handwoven throw draped across its back.

The coffee table looked handmade, solid, and sturdy like everything else.

The kitchen was visible through an archway—all dark wood cabinets and granite countertops, with copper pots hanging from a rack above a professional-grade stove. Everything was immaculate, organized with military precision.

"You live here?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

Novo set the boxes down, watching my reaction closely. "For the last five years. Built most of it myself."

"It's beautiful," I admitted, taking in the details. Masculine, yes, but thoughtfully designed and surprisingly cozy. Nothing like the stark bachelor pad I'd imagined.

And exactly something I would want for myself. Before I got shipped off to boarding school, my godfather's place looked like it should have been in Versailles. And I'd hated it. Then it had been all about expensive ultra-modern apartments with absolutely no soul.

"Thanks," Novo said, something like pride flickering in his eyes. "Spare bedroom's this way."

He led me down a short hallway to a door on the right. The bedroom was smaller than the main space but just as comfy—a queen-sized bed with a navy quilt, a dresser, and a small desk by the window that overlooked a small deck and garden.

"Bathroom's across the hall," Novo explained. "Kitchen's stocked. Make yourself at home."

I set Patches on the bed, feeling suddenly awkward. "Thank you. I'll try not to... get in your way."

Novo frowned. "This isn't about you being in my way, Matty. It's about keeping you safe."

"Right," I nodded, not meeting his eyes. "The contract."

Novo made a sound that might have been frustration. "Look, I need to get back to the clubhouse. Meeting starts soon. Will you be okay here for a couple of hours?"

"I'm not a child," I said reflexively, then winced at how petulant it sounded.

"Never said you were," Novo replied evenly. "There's food in the fridge if you get hungry. TV remote's on the coffee table. Wi-Fi password is on the fridge."

I nodded again, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Go. I'll be fine."

Novo hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, then simply nodded. "I'll be back soon, but I'll send Tik Tac with the other boxes. I'll lock the door when I go out. Don't open it for anyone but me or him."

After he left, I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The quiet of the cabin settled around me, broken only by the distant sounds of activity from the clubhouse.

I hadn't expected Novo to have a place like this—so personal, so.

.. homey. Had he been embarrassed by it?

Or was it simply that he hadn't wanted me in his personal space?

I sat up and grabbed Patches, hugging him to my chest. "Just us again, buddy," I whispered.

The weight of everything that had happened in the past two days crashed over me like a wave. I was married to a stranger who was only with me for money. Someone—likely my own godfather—had tried to kill me. I'd lost my job. And now I was hiding out in a biker compound because my life was in danger.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. How had this become my reality?

I decided to unpack, needing something to do with my restless energy.

My possessions looked pathetically sparse spread out on the bed—a handful of clothes, three pairs of designer shoes from my old life, some toiletries, a few books, and Patches.

The prospects had grabbed my laptop and phone charger, at least.