Page 19 of Ruthless Obsession (Royal Bastards MC Chicago, IL Chapter)

"The kitchen was my sanctuary. Then Joanne came to the window and said table eight had a problem and wanted to talk to me. I refused. There was no way I was going out to deal with a group of bikers. But a little while later, most of them left… except him . I could feel him watching me.

When my shift ended, I stepped outside and there he was—leaning against his bike waiting for me.

Her expression softens, like she’s right back in that moment. "He stuck around town after that. Got to know me. That man’s protected me ever since… even killed for me. I know exactly why they call him Legos." Her voice wavers slightly, emotion rising.

“We met when I was twenty-five. Been together ten years now.” She glances at me, smiling through the tears building in her eyes.

“You two are the cutest biker couple.” I grip my fingers together and swoon.

Tonya chuckles. “Ready for your tour?”

“Yes, then I need to order something to eat.”

I glance down at my outfit—hot pink tank, black shorts, and fresh biker boots.

“All right.” She waves a hand over her shoulder.

“It’s weird not having to hold a gun on you,” she teases with a smirk.

“Real funny,” I mutter, locking the door behind me.

My eyes scan the clubhouse. Bikers lounge on the couches in the gaming area, some with women curled up beside them. The place hums with low chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.

We head up the stairs to the second level. She nods toward the far end of the club. “That room above Prez’s office? That’s his personal quarters. He’s got stairs inside that lead straight up.”

“When he gave us his blessing earlier, I noticed the staircase. I wondered where it went.”

“Yeah, his office is half biker command center, half man cave.”

“I picked up on that,” I reply, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Legos and I are the only couple that lives in the clubhouse. Barlowe our VP’s quarters are straight down this hallway on the right. He likes having a view of the mechanic yard and where the guys hang out.

She shows me several bedrooms. Some are occupied and several aren’t.”

“On the weekends these rooms fill up quickly. One of the club foxes and a club slut are paid to keep the bedrooms clean. Marcy and Sara.”

“Were they cleaning Mavis’s room too?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I’ll let them know I’ll clean it for now on,” I tell her.

“I don’t want any random woman going through our things and stirring up drama between me and Mavis.”

Tonya lets out a knowing laugh. “Hmm, sounding real territorial right now.”

“I just want it known—I’m the only woman cleaning up after my man.”

“Girl, say less.” Tonya holds up her hand, and we slap palms with a shared smirk.

She leans in slightly. “If you don’t put your foot down the club sluts sometimes try to be side chicks to the bikers who have OL’ Ladies. That doesn’t go over well. Just causes woman to start fighting.”

Our tour wraps up upstairs, and we make our way back down to the first floor.

“This is the residential kitchen,” Tonya says, waving her hand with pride.

My eyes scan the space—floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with oversized canned goods, a massive double-door fridge, and a six-burner stove big enough to cook for an army.

“Poppy—Rogue’s OL’ Lady—and I usually handle meals for the MC.”

“I can help out in the kitchen sometimes too,” I offer.

Tonya beams. “That would be great. We could always use another pair of hands.”

She leads me through the industrial kitchen tucked behind the bar at the front of the clubhouse.

"The residential kitchen is stocked with food and snacks," she says. "Help yourself to whatever you want."

I nod but frown slightly. “I don’t think Mavis will be comfortable with me roaming the clubhouse at night. He’ll probably bring me what I need himself. He’s already talking about enclosing the bathroom into our quarters.”

She laughs softly. “Yeah, I can see that. He’s definitely not letting you roam after dark.”

Her eyes take in my outfit.

“I love that hot pink on you.” She grins.

“Thanks.”

“Do you think Mavis will have a problem with you wearing the tank with all that cleavage around his brothers?”

“That’s a good question. It was chilly this morning. I wore a hoody over it. He didn’t see it. I’m not hiding my body to appease him.”

I found a t-shirt in my bag—white, with Royal Bastards stamped across the back and Ruthless’s OL’ Lady in black bold on both sides.

I’m not wearing that shirt.

“Think I’ll make a salad and then take a nap. I’ll be out later. Sundays aren’t busy are they?”

She chuckles. “See you this evening.”

∞

As if the hot pink tank top earlier wasn’t pushing it, I slip into a yellow strappy sundress that stops mid-thigh.

My hair’s pulled back into a low ponytail, keeping it simple but cute.

I’d packed extra clothes and shoes in Mavis’s duffel, so I’d have more to choose from while we’re staying at the clubhouse.

Riding in with both my bags strapped to my back, arms around Mavis’s waist as he cut corners on his Harley—it had been a hell of a ride.

Smooth. Fast. The kind that makes you forget your ex-boyfriend is looking for you.

Anyway, Sundays at biker clubs can be hit or miss, but I’m guessing the vibe is chill tonight. I step out of the room and lock the door. As I head toward the bar in gold sandals, low whistles sound off around me.

A biker band performs on a small stage outside the gaming room. That’s cool. My eyes move around the room. There are several women sitting on big burly bikers’ laps. Some of the women wear biker cuts that read property of Royal Bastards.

I hadn’t heard from Mavis all day. Is he ok?

Every stool at the bar is filled. I raise a hand flagging down a bartender. “Hello, what can I get for you?” The bartender flashes a grin. Her green hair brushes her shoulders.

“Cheeseburger and fries and I’ll have a vodka on the rocks.” I place the black card on the weathered bar. Cigarette and cigar smoke waft through the air.

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth.

“Please don’t. Just keep the tab open. I’m Sophie and you are?”

“Karla.” Sadness fills her eyes as she prepares my drink.

What’s wrong with her?

“Hello, big fella,” I say to the biker sitting on the stool.

“Hello darlin.” he smiles. His long thick black beard hits his belly that stretches the t-shirt fabric to the limit.

“I’d like to sit here,” I tell him.

Karla places my drink in front of me.

“Is that so? You can sit on my lap,” he offers.

“I’ll pass. Your stool will suffice.”

His buddies, chuckle at our exchange and the fact that I won’t back down.

“Maybe I want to keep you company, sweetness.”

I cringe at his pet name for me. If Mavis heard him, he’d lose his shit.

“I’d like to chill, and when I stay here, I prefer this stool.”

His dark brows rustle together then his eyes move over my shoulder.

His face pales as he hops off the stool. His gray eyes meet mine. “There you go Ruthless’s OL’ Lady.”

I glare at him. “I shouldn’t have to mention his name to be respected and treated like a lady. If men are seated at the bar it’s only right, they offer their seat to the ladies. I guess I’ll mention that to Ruthless.”

He doesn’t say another word. He stalks off. Three other seats become available. I sink onto the stool.

I meet the bartender’s gaze. “They only left because someone told them I’m Mavis’s OL’ Lady?”

Karla’s eyes widen and she tongues her lip ring. “You’re his OL’ Lady?”

“Yeah, unless he gives his hook ups his credit card.”

“He’s never been a one woman kind of man,” she says.

It’s clear she has it bad for Ruthless.

“He kidnapped me. Kept me as his captive. Now I’m his OL’ Lady.” I sip my drink.

“Don’t get me wrong I’m happy to be with him. It just feels like a lot of bikers are afraid of him. I don’t need our relationship status hanging over my head all night.”

Her smile rises and falls.

I turn to the band playing a classic heavy metal song. Bringing the glass to my lips, I smile.

Two women walk toward the bar. I glance at them before turning my attention back to the band. I feel eyes on me throughout the club. Maybe the word is spreading about Ruthless’s OL’ Lady. Chatter about us doesn’t bother me. As long as I’m treated with respect, I’ll give that same respect.

“That’s a fucking lie. She can’t be his OL’ Lady,” One of the women says to my left like I’m not sitting here.

Or she wants me to hear their conversation and react like a crazy bitch.

“No, I won’t chill. Everyone knows he’s single. How could it possibly happen that fucking fast? If he’s really with her.” She practically spits the last words on my skin.

She’s so close now I can smell her cheap perfume.

“Did you say all that to get a reaction from me?”

She looks me up and down. “Where the fuck did you even come from?”

Oh, this bitch wants to fight. I slam my glass on the bar. “You want my attention?” I stand barely leaving any space between us.

“Are you a club fox or club slut who had been hoping and waiting to become Ruthless’s OL’ Lady?”

“I’ve known Ruthless for years. And if you are his OL’ Lady, you’ve only been around for what three days?”

Her friend laughs.

“It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. He made it known he wanted me. The biker has no intentions of ever letting me go.”

She stumbles back at the truth. Maybe it was the ever part that fucked her up.

“Know this. Mavis Ruthless Marticon is my fucking man. If you think I’m afraid of any of you I’m fucking not,” I roar over the music.

This is a brave move on my part because I’m new here. They could try to stomp me into the ground. I’d defend myself not ever backing down.

“Do we have a problem here?” a familiar voice says.

They glance at her.

Her face twists in a scowl. “She says she’s Ruthless’s OL’ Lady.”

“Lillian, being nasty to her is not how we act at this club to an OL’ Lady. Club slut you are to respect her,” Tonya spits.

Lillian mouth drops open.