Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,45
later, I’m on my way to my office when Joe calls.
“Where are you?” he says, sounding less than impressed with me.
“I remembered I have some work to catch up on. I’m going into the office.”
Silence for a beat. And then— “How long will you be?”
“I don’t know. A few hours maybe.”
Silence again, before he says, “Don’t forget we have that dinner to attend tonight.”
“I remember.” Does he think I don’t know how to use the fucking brain I was born with?
“We’ll leave at six thirty.”
The line goes dead and I exhale a long breath.
I wish weekends didn’t exist. They used to be my favourite part of the week; now I want to cut them from my calendar.
I work in peace for a few hours, not hearing one peep out of Joe. I pack up my work and head home at four thirty, surprised to find two cars at our house that I don’t recognise. I wasn’t aware Joe was expecting visitors.
When I enter the house, the buzz of people talking is the first thing I take in. The second thing is Joe’s eyes as he looks up at me from the kitchen island when I walk in. The third is the hard set of those eyes and the ominous vibe surrounding him.
“Hi,” the man with Joe says, extending his hand. “I’m Matthew Ronson.”
I stare at him, allowing the feelings of distrust swirling all around me to settle in deep. I’m learning to go with my gut these days, and right now, my gut is telling me that none of this is good. Matthew Ronson is standing in front of me dressed in his expensive suit, with his perfectly styled hair and overpriced watch, running his gaze over me like he’s assessing every inch of me, and I know not one good thing is going to come from knowing him.
“And?” I ask. I’m past being nice to these assholes.
Joe’s lips press together. “Chelsea,” he warns.
My eyes cut to his. “What’s going on, Joe? I thought we were going out to dinner tonight.”
“We are. Matt’s just running through some stuff with me.”
“What stuff?” I don’t usually ask him about his work, but I’m not getting the feeling this is about his work. I want to know who Matthew Ronson is and why he’s in my house when I was not expecting him. I mean, the last thing Joe said to me earlier was that we had nothing on today, so he wasn’t intending on seeing Matthew at that point.
“We’re planning for a trip next week,” Joe says, and I know by his tone that there’s a whole lot more about this trip that I need to know. That dark, ominous vibe won’t let up.
“I wasn’t aware you had plans to go away next week.”
Before he can respond, a woman appears in the kitchen and looks at me. “Oh good, you’re home. We’re ready for you to take a look at the clothes.”
I frown at her. “What clothes?”
She returns my frown. “The ones for your appearances.”
My gut churns with unease. I look at Joe and find him watching me intently. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I’m a thousand percent sure I’m not going to like it. “A word?” I say to him before turning on my heel and walking into the library.
“What’s going on?” I demand once we’re alone.
“I made some changes to your father’s schedule. He’ll be travelling up the coast next week to drum up support.”
“And?” I know that’s not all he has to tell me.
“And you’ll be coming with us.”
That ominous sensation coils right through me as I process this. As I process Joe’s dark expression.
Gathering every ounce of strength I have, I say, “I have work next week, Joe. I won’t be going with you.”
“I’ve arranged for you to take the week off.”
“Really? And how did you do that?” As the words leave my mouth, I know it’s a dumb question. My husband has his ways to get everything he wants, and if he wants me to have a week off, he’ll have found a way to make that happen.
“I called Martin.” My boss. “He was more than happy to accommodate your father.”
My chest fills with anger to the point I need to take quicker, shorter breaths just to get oxygen in. How fucking dare he!
I cross my arms. “I’m in the middle of a huge project at work, one I can’t just take a week off from. And certainly not at short