Page 44 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)

CLOVER

Earlier the Same Night

The Las Vegas strip stretches out before us like a river of neon and dreams, and I can’t stop smiling.

Phoenix’s hand is warm in mine as we walk away from our hotel, the evening air carrying the distant sounds of music, laughter, and the hum of possibility that seems to pulse through this city’s veins.

We spent most of the day with Sin and the rest of the Las Vegas Defiance brothers at their clubhouse, filling them in on everything that’s been going down back home in LA about Javier, the Cartel, why we’re here, and apologizing for arriving late and not filling Sin in on why.

“I still find it crazy how each Defiance club runs a little differently, yet every president is a moody bastard.” I giggle to myself as we head toward The Strip.

Phoenix grins but doesn’t laugh. He simply tightens his grip on my hand. “I guess the weight of the top job comes with a heavy load. It’s a lot to carry an entire club. I’d be grumpy too,” he states matter-of-factly.

Pursing my lips, I cuddle into him closer.

“See, you’re so fucking smart. It was nice of them to offer for us to stay there, though.

Especially when Sin got called into his meeting, which I’m pretty sure was with Alpha and the other clubs.

It’s good to know that if everything does go to shit, we have somewhere to go. ”

Phoenix glances at me with a simple nod. “Yeah. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but the guys were chill, and the clubhouse was…” He widens his eyes in what looks like awe.

Snorting out a laugh, I tilt my head in agreement.

“I know what you mean. The way they converted an old casino into their clubhouse is a really cool idea. I was bummed that Sin wouldn’t let me take any video or images for my content.

I get it, though. It took me forever to convince Alpha to let me make an Insta account for the clubhouse back home, even if I have to blank out the faces and patches when I post. But the account sure does pop off sometimes, depending on what I post. Sons of Anarchy and Mayans really had all the rizz.

Women low-key lose their shit over you guys.

But I’m just doing it for the plot, you know? ”

Phoenix smiles at me in the most loving way, then he leans in, pressing a tender kiss on my cheek. When he pulls back, he shakes his head. “You’re fucking adorable.”

Smirking, I shrug my shoulders. “I’d rather be sexy to you—”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. You are absolutely that too. You’re adorable and sexy. It’s rare to be both, but you, Reel Girl, are one-hundred-percent both.”

With those few words, an ache begins between my legs.

I think about turning us around, taking us straight back to the hotel room, but we have big plans tonight.

So, I simply grin at him and keep us walking toward the bright lights of Vegas.

“All right, sweet talker, let’s go do this thing,” I tell him.

“So…” Phoenix chimes, squeezing my fingers gently, “… what’s first on this bucket list of yours?”

I pull out my cell, scrolling through the notes app where I’ve kept my Vegas dreams since I was sixteen. “Karaoke,” I announce, grinning up at him. “I want to sing at the top of my lungs like nobody’s watching.”

He laughs, that deep, rich rumble that makes my stomach flip every single time. “You know everybody will be watching, right? That’s kind of the point of karaoke.”

“Then I’ll pretend they’re not.” I tug him toward the bright lights of a bar I spotted earlier, its karaoke sign blinking in electric blue. “Come on, biker boy. No more road trip playlist sing-alongs. It’s time to show me how it’s really done.”

“Oh no!” Phoenix shakes his head, but his smile shines bright across his face. “This is your bucket list. I’m just along for the ride.”

Smirking, I pull him through the giant doors. “We’ll see.”

The bar is dimly lit, but packed with classic Vegas energy. Neon signs buzz overhead, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and bass-heavy music.

Phoenix heads for the restroom as I lean on the counter, waving the bartender over. He’s in his thirties, good-looking in that overly polished way, with gelled hair, designer stubble, and a shirt that hugs his biceps a little too tightly.

His eyes zero in on me like I’m the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Well, aren’t you a little snack,” he says, his eyes dragging over me from head to toe with a leer that makes my skin crawl.

“You sure you’re old enough to be drinking, sweet thing?

You barely look legal. Or is this one of those fake ID situations where I’m supposed to just… not ask questions?”

I smile, sugary sweet. “You give me the drinks, and I promise not to tell my husband what you just said.”

He leans in, smirk growing. “Married? You’re too young and waaay too hot to be tied down.

Tell you what… I’ll overlook that you’re clearly too young to be in here, slip you a drink, and you can reward my generosity out in the stock room with me.

We’ll see if your husband notices you missing for a few minutes. ”

I tilt my head, resting my chin in my palm. “Wow. That’s impressive. You managed to be sleazy, age-inappropriate, and disrespectful all in under thirty seconds. New personal best?”

Before he can answer, Phoenix is behind me, sudden and lethal. His hand wraps around my waist like a vice, pulling me flush against him. His smell wraps around me like home and my heartbeat all wrapped in one as I sink back into his tight hold.

“You got about three seconds to walk that shady comment back,” he growls, his voice reminiscent of a thunderstorm brewing. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

The bartender’s cocky grin falters. “Didn’t see a ring,” he mumbles, trying to recover, his posture stiffening.

Phoenix grabs my left hand and lifts it into the air. The tiny golden cactus keyring glints in the neon light.

“You see it now?” he snaps. “This ring might be small. It might have been bought in a gift shop, but what it does mean? That’s fucking massive.”

The bartender chuckles nervously, backing off. “All right, all right. My bad. You’re a lucky guy, though.”

Phoenix’s voice is pure grit as he continues to glare down this asshole, “Don’t I fucking know it.”

The bartender practically trips over himself getting to the taps to pour us a drink.

Phoenix watches him go, jaw tight, then turns to me. “You okay?”

I nod, the corners of my mouth twitching with a smirk. “I was about to handle it, but I gotta admit… seeing you go full caveman on his ass?” I tilt my head. “Kinda hot.”

He grunts, but a smile breaks through. “No man talks to you like that, Clo. You’re mine now.”

“You gonna pound your chest and mark your territory. Do that whole you’re mine biker speech that the guys always do?”

His eyes narrow on me, and he leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “You. Are. Mine .”

I can’t fight back my smile as the bartender returns with our drinks and avoids eye contact when he sets them down. Phoenix grabs the glasses, still glaring, then leads me to a high-top table in the corner.

We sit, and I lift a brow. “So, that was subtle.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you. Or the way he spoke to you.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t throw a mojito in his face,” I tease, swirling my straw. “I was about ten seconds away from going full glitter-bomb vigilante.”

Phoenix’s hand finds mine across the table. “You’re wearing my ring, Clover. That means something to me.”

I glance down at the absurd little golden cactus on my finger and smile. “I’m never taking it off. Not for anyone. Not ever. I love it, and you, far too much.”

He leans closer, his eyes burning into mine. “Good. And I love you, too, baby.”

I raise my glass. “To being yours.”

He clinks his whiskey against my mojito. “To forever… now go grab a book and choose yourself a song. We have a bucket list item to carry out.”

Grinning, I jump up and race over to pick out a song, jot my name down, then move back to Phoenix and continue to drink my mojito for liquid courage while waiting for my turn.

Three songs later, my name gets called. I down the rest of my drink and make my way to the stage, Phoenix’s encouraging smile giving me strength.

The small crowd in the bar quiets as I adjust the microphone, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The opening notes of “Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding start, and I take a deep breath. Then I open my mouth and sing.

All the nerves disappear the moment the first word leaves my lips.

I’m not Clover Cadell, MC princess with a target on her back.

I’m not the girl hiding from Cartels and family drama.

I’m just a woman in love.

Singing her heart out in a Vegas dive bar, to a song made famous by Fifty Shades of Grey , while her husband watches from the crowd with pride shining in his eyes.

I put everything into the performance. All the fear I’ve been carrying, all the joy Phoenix has brought into my life, all the wild freedom of being in Vegas with the man I love.

The lyrics talk of not caring about fear, because I feel high with the new world that Phoenix has brought to life. He is my holy grail and has set my entire world on fire.

I’m so fucking lucky he loves me the way he does.

That is why I chose this song.

That and the way he has been fucking me the past few days makes me feel like the fictitious Anastasia Grey in the first movie. My eyes are wide open to what I have been missing out on. Sure, we don’t have a red room , but I’m more than happy with how we have been progressing in our sex life.

When my song ends, the small crowd erupts in cheers and whistles.

Phoenix is at the edge of the stage before I can even step down, his hands spanning my waist as he lifts me down. “You were incredible,” he murmurs against my ear, and the pride in his voice makes me feel like I could fly.

“Your turn,” I challenge, breathless and exhilarated.

“Absolutely not!”

“Come on, Phoenix, live a little. After all, what happens in Vegas…”

He shakes his head, but I see him wavering. “This is supposed to be your moment.”

“ Our moment,” I correct. “Everything is our moment now.”

The look he gives me could melt steel. Before he can argue further, I’m dragging him toward the sign-up sheet, writing his name in my messiest handwriting.

“Clover—”

“Too late. You’re committed now.”

He groans, curling his lip. “Fine, but if you record it, we’re getting our marriage annulled. I mean it!”

Giggling, I smile. “Okay. Phone’s away. I swear. This is just for you and me. Now let’s enjoy the night.”

He grunts again as we take our seats and continue to watch the other performers.

When Phoenix’s name gets called twenty minutes later, he shoots me a look that promises retribution later.

But he takes the stage as if he were born for it, choosing “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi, and absolutely destroying it in the best possible way.

His voice is rough velvet mixed with pure sin, and every woman in the bar is staring at him like they want to take him home.

Too bad for them.

He’s already taken.

I touch the cactus of my wedding ring, grinning like a damn idiot as my husband— my husband —commands the stage like a rockstar, gyrating Elvis hips and everything. When he finishes, the applause is thunderous, and I’m pretty sure I fall in love with him all over again.

He jumps off the stage, right at my feet, sweat dripping off him, and the brightest smile on his face.

He had fun, there’s no denying it.

“Show off,” I tease when he returns to our table.

“You started it,” he jabs, pulling me against him for a kiss that tastes like whiskey.

While the night is still young, we have more items to hit on my bucket list, so I pull out my cell to see what we have left. The second item on my bucket list is more adventurous, and I feel my cheeks heat as I read it, feeling fifty shades of embarrassed.

Phoenix notices my hesitation immediately. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“It’s… um, the next item on the list that we’re supposed to be doing.” I bite my lip, suddenly feeling shy despite everything we’ve shared together.

“Oh yeah?” he states, taking another drink casually. He swipes the sweat from his brow and continues, “Wanna fill me in on what crazy adventure awaits us next?”

I lower my voice, even though a very intoxicated woman is singing Adele badly at the top of her lungs, and lean in so only Phoenix can hear me. “It’s… it’s having sex somewhere crazy. Somewhere risky.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a mischievous smirk crossing his face. “Define risky .”

“Somewhere we could get caught. Somewhere completely unexpected.” I look up at him through my lashes. “Not very Clover-like behavior, I know.”

Phoenix drops his voice to that gravelly tone that makes my knees weak, “Baby, there’s nothing about you that’s predictable anymore, and I fucking love it!”

The heat in his eyes makes my decision for me. I grab his hand, tugging him toward the exit. “Come on. I have an idea.”

“Where are we going?” he asks as we rush out of the karaoke bar, the fresh air hitting us both instantly.

“The Bellagio conservatory.”

Phoenix stops walking. “The flower garden? Clover, that’s not exactly private.”

“That’s what makes it risky.” I grin at him over my shoulder. “Trust me.”

He shakes his head, chuckles, but keeps pace with me as we continue to walk.

When we arrive, the conservatory is beautiful at night, less crowded than during the day but still with enough people wandering through to make this absolutely insane.

I lead Phoenix through the displays, past towering topiaries and elaborate floral arrangements, until I find what I’m looking for—a secluded alcove behind a massive tree sculpture, hidden from the main walkway but still very much in public.

“Clover,” Phoenix warns, his voice strained. “This is—”

“Crazy. I know!” I turn to face him, my back against the cool wall. “But I want this. I want you. Right here, right now. It’s a bucket list item. You won’t refuse a bucket list item, Presley, will you?” I tease, wiggling my brows at him suggestively.