Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,53
a hard look that roars just how much he wants me out of his sight. I hate that he’s looking at me like that, and I hate the fact I hate it.
“I should just let them do what they want to you and your club,” I snap before marching back into the motel.
My husband is standing on the road watching every step I take his way. His pissed-off body language and expression make it clear he watched my encounter with Mason. I don’t care, though. I don’t care about anything right now except showing him how fucking upset I am with his order to quit my job.
It’s a long day. Maybe the longest day of my life. Actually, no, that was my wedding day. I never want to re-live either of them.
Joe is nowhere to be seen when I arrive in Rockhampton. Neither is Mason, who left with Dad and Joe this morning. I spent the day with my mother who prattled on about some charity gala she’s helping organise and a party she wants me to help her plan when we get back home. I struggle to keep up with the conversation. I want to ask her how the hell she can stay married to a man like my father. I haven’t spoken to him yet about my job, but I know he’s behind this decision to force me to resign. I’ve seen his latest approval ratings and they’ve improved greatly this week. It seems the public likes a close-knit family like ours. Except we aren’t and never will be. If I had my way, I’d tear us apart today. I’d scatter us far and wide and never look back. But I can’t do that because that would be signing Mason’s future away, and as much as I tell myself I hate Mason, I don’t, and I could never allow my father to do the things to him that he’s threatened.
So here I am, stuck. However, something deep inside me snapped this morning, shifting my perspective. Joe might have finally crushed my spirit, but in its place is a furious need to show them they don’t fully control me. I might have to play nice most of the time, but not all the fucking time.
After I dump my suitcase in the hotel room, I head back outside to Griff, who drove Mum and I here. He’s leaning against the wall of the hotel corridor, on the phone. He ends his call as soon as he sees me. “You good?” he asks.
“Yeah, are you free to drive me to the hairdresser?”
He pushes off the wall. “Sure. Now?”
I nod, and we head down to the hotel car park. Griff opens the back door of the Range Rover to let me in. I really like Griff; I always have. I met him a few times while I was with Mason, and he might give off a vibe that says “careful with me,” but he’s always been a gentleman to me. People assume bikers don’t have that in them, but I’d choose any of the Storm men as friends over most of the men I meet in my life. They might be rough around the edges and foul-mouthed, but I trust them a hell of a lot more than I trust my father and his people.
Griff settles in the front of the car and I give him the address I want to go to. Ten minutes later, he pulls up outside it and cuts the engine. Exiting the car, he opens my door to let me out.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” I say. “If you give me your number, I can text you when I’m finished.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Honestly, you don’t have to. This waiting around has to be the most boring stuff you’ve ever had to do.”
With a quick shake of his head, he says, “This is what your husband is paying me to do. I’ll be right out here making sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you,” I say and make my way inside.
“Hey, darl,” the hairdresser greets me, a genuine smile plastered across her face.
I give her my name and she ushers me straight through. “What are you after today?” she says as she runs her fingers through my hair. I love that she seems to have no idea who I am. I can’t go anywhere in Brisbane without people knowing me.
I pull out my phone and find the photo Alexa sent me of the style she thinks will suit me. Showing the