Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,11

love with another man, I’d admit to the fact my husband is one of the best-looking men I’ve ever met. Tall and fit with dark hair that’s always perfectly styled, a strong chiselled jaw, and piercing blue eyes, Joe turns many heads, just not mine. That could also have something to do with the fact he’s a cold and ruthless man who in just a month I’ve learned to always be on guard with.

“I’ve got a lot of work stuff on my mind,” I lie as I take a sip of wine and note the bruises on his face. I don’t know who he got in a fight with, and I don’t want to know, so I don’t mention it.

“Stuff you don’t need to fill your mind with.” God, I hate how condescending he is.

“My mind likes being filled with my work.”

He sighs. “How many times are we going to have this argument, Chelsea?”

“As many times as you keep initiating it.”

“There will come a time I won’t initiate it. I’ll simply make it clear I’ve reached the end of my patience.” The way he says this scatters goosebumps over my skin, not the good kind.

I sip some more wine. “Let’s not discuss this tonight.”

He appraises me for a long moment before granting my wish. Sitting in the armchair across from me, he says, “Your father is pleased with the way the campaign is coming together.”

Shoot. Me. Now.

I don’t want to be bored by the details of my father’s re-election campaign. However, what I’m slowly figuring out is which battles to fight with my husband and which to walk away from. This is one to stay far, far away from. So I play the dutiful wife and say, “That’s good. Are you happy with it too?”

I can tell by the slight lift of his lips that this question pleases Joe. “I am. We really need you to come on strong in this interview on Friday, though.”

“Come on strong? What does that mean?”

“It means that since you’re insisting on keeping your job for now rather than taking on extra social engagements that would benefit the family, we need you to be extra enthusiastic about what your father’s doing.” He pauses. “And about our marriage.”

This is the real reason he’s in here talking with me. Joe usually spends his nights working at his office or in his home office unless we’re out at a social function. He doesn’t casually join me in the library for a chat.

I take a bigger sip of wine. I’m going to need it to get through this conversation. “What would you prefer I say about our marriage, Joe?”

“Chelsea,” he starts, low and with warning, but I cut him off.

“Should we mention what my father threatened me with if I didn’t marry you? Or perhaps we could talk about how our union has cemented his future with your family connections? Or wait, should we discuss more intimate details of our marriage?”

His lips pull into a thin, disapproving line. “I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you today, but it needs to end. I didn’t agree to this marriage simply to put up with this kind of attitude.”

I cock my head, feeling extra frisky tonight. Joe and I didn’t spend a great deal of time together before our wedding a month ago and haven’t spent much time having deep and meaningfuls since, so there’s some things I’d love to know about him. “Why did you agree to this marriage, Joe?”

“We both know the benefits of a Hearst aligning with a Novak.”

“Right, but there are plenty of other women out there from families like mine. You’re a good looking, well-connected guy; you could have taken your pick.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Chelsea.”

I don’t know what he means by that, and I’m not sure I want to. As far as I’m concerned, this marriage is nothing but an arrangement. Joe, on the other hand, has said and done a few things that make me wonder if he wants it to be more. I don’t want to open up a conversation about that.

“Fine,” I concede, “I’ll play the good girl and be enthusiastic about our amazing marriage. Both you and my father will be more than happy with my performance.”

That thin line of displeasure doesn’t disappear from Joe’s face as he stands. “Good.”

With that, he leaves me in peace. I stare after him and guzzle the rest of my wine. It’s going to be a long week of psyching myself