Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,59

discuss, Joe.”

“There’s a whole lot to discuss. Your new schedule for one.”

“I have no doubt my father has packed it full.”

A look passes through his eyes. “You think your father’s in charge here?”

My breathing slow as I stare at him.

“He hasn’t been in charge for a long time,” he says with more of that acid. “Your father’s involved in too much shit to be in charge. Those approval ratings you’re seeing now are thanks to me and Ronson spinning the fuck out of your father’s messes. We’ll get him elected again, but the bigger picture involves me and you. The future belongs to us, so you need to get yourself on board, and you need to do that soon, or so fucking help me God, I’ll find a way to make you get on board.”

I married the devil.

That’s the last thought I have as I rest my head on my pillow.

That and the fact I need to get my shit together so I can figure out a plan to outsmart the devil, because I’ll be damned if Joe Hearst is going to dictate how I live the rest of my life.

19

Gunnar

I don’t care if I have to stay with him for the rest of my life; I’ll do it for you.

What the fuck did she mean by that?

I spent half the fucking night thinking about my conversation with Chelsea on the roof, and I’m no closer to figuring this shit out. She apologised to me for breaking my heart and I told her I didn’t want her fucking apology. I don’t. I fucking want her even though I fucking hate that I do. But I sure as fuck don’t want that apology. And then she told me she’s done this all for me and will continue doing it for me, staying with him for life if she has to.

I should take it for the drunk talk it was.

I should forget every word she said.

I should not fucking want to know what the hell she meant by it all.

But I want to know, and I want to fucking know now.

“Where are you going in such a fucking rush?” Griff asks as I stride towards the door of our hotel room early the next morning.

“Out.” I keep moving.

“Gunnar,” he says, and something I hear in his voice stops me. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, brother.”

Griff saw me come back from the roof last night. He saw the filthy mood I was in. The same filthy mood I’ve been in all week. He doesn’t miss a fucking beat; he knows what’s up.

I look back at him. “What time are we needed this morning?” I’m not getting into this with him.

He shakes his head and mutters, “Fuck,” before giving me the information I’m looking for. “Hearst has meetings all morning in the hotel. His guys are with him for them. We’re free until lunch.”

“I’ll be back in time for that.”

I exit the room without another word and reach for my phone. I then do something I swore I’d never fucking do again; I send Chelsea a text.

Me: We need to talk. Now. Where are you?

When I don’t get a reply within a few minutes, I send her another one.

Me: Tell me where you are or I’ll make it clear to everyone I need to know where you are.

The dots go up and down as she types a reply. She takes her sweet fucking time to type the short message she sends back.

Chelsea: In the gym.

Me: Don’t move. I’m on my way.

One of Hearst’s security guys is standing outside the gym when I get there. He lifts his chin at me as I enter; he must think Hearst sent me.

It’s early, just before 6:30 a.m. and she’s the only one in the gym. On the treadmill.

She looks at me the instant I step through the door. Stopping the treadmill, she gets off it and meets me halfway.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice filled with uneasiness.

“You don’t seem happy to see me, Mayfair. Where’s the girl who’s sorry for breaking my heart?”

Regret flashes in her eyes, and I fucking hate how that makes me feel. I fucking knew she didn’t mean a word of what she said last night. When the fuck will I learn with this woman?

“I was drunk last night, Mason,” she starts, and I cut her the fuck off.

“Yeah, you were. But you know what? As much as I’m standing here telling myself I should have known better than to