Something’s going on and no one’s talking. The clubhouse is humming with activity. Everyone’s either wearing a serious expression on their faces or are working with purpose. And it’s so much less rowdy than my first night here. The edgy tension has a life of its own around the place. I know that feeling intimately. It’s as though they’re bracing for something.

Then again, they were just attacked.

No one accepts my offer to help, so I use the time to relax in the guest bedroom. After all the action and lack of sleep in the last few days, I should be dead tired. It’d be great to get some rest and forget everything going on for a couple of hours. Except, I can’t relax. Closing my eyes only kicks my over-thinking into high gear.

For now, this most recent clubhouse stay consists of being put to hide out in a random room with minimal interaction with anyone except for a few minutes of conversation I had with Jenny about an hour ago. She’s still friendly, but a lot more closed off than before. My questions to her go unanswered, and are met with a physical reaction. She won’t maintain eye contact, backs away from me as though adding distance between us will help her stay strong as she makes conversation. I see right through it.

Maybe they’re all feeding off their President’s vibes. Or maybe he told them everything. I’m not thrilled with him at the moment, but then again, how would any two people act toward each other after angry, unprotected sex? Which was mind-blowing until we came crashing back down to reality and he resumed the silent treatment. We have no hope in hell of being together. Not with Silas working for my father. Not with the cloud of mistrust between us—mostly my fault.

I really should rest.

But part of me won’t let my guard down.

Being here is a disaster waiting to happen. The truth is that being embroiled in secrets, scheming, and violence is in my blood. It’s not much different for Silas. But here I am, holed up in a tower like a movie princess, waiting for my prince to get a wake-up call.

Fuck this.

I bolt upright and shove the covers off. Getting out of the bed, I leave the room. If I’m staying here, I may as well have a few drinks downstairs. I’m halfway through the door when I bump into a familiar chest.

“We need to talk,” Silas announces in a gruff, raspy grumble, steamrolling me backward into the room and slamming the door behind us.

“We? Or are you planning to do all the talking like all the other times? I cross my arms over my stomach, eyes narrowed and ready for battle. “We can’t keep screwing each other’s brains out every time there’s a problem. It doesn’t solve anything.”

“Shouldn’t and can’t aren’t the same things, doll. Nothing about us should be happening. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”

I hate that he’s right.

I might as well admit it.

“But you can spend all the time you want fantasizing about me deep inside you when you’re gone,” he says with a smirk.

“Wait, did you say ‘gone’? As in out of the clubhouse and walking on my own in daylight? That kind of ‘gone’?”

“More like tied to your mafia prince for the rest of your life. That kind of ‘gone’.”

He leans against the wall beside the door and runs a hand through his hair. Is it my imagination or does he look upset about me leaving? I wish I didn’t have to resort to reading body language instead of getting this man to speak his mind. But it’s useless. I’m the last person he’d open up to.

“Your fucked-up husband-to-be just threatened me and mine. He wants you back before the meeting with your father in two days. I don’t exactly want him making good on his threats. And this isn’t our fight. What that means is—”

“Great,” I huff. “I’m back to being chattel again. How lovely. Thanks for the heads-up.” I start walking to the door again. “As I’m here for a while, in a place where alcohol flows more freely that water, I’m gonna need a drink. Or a few.” I reach out for the door handle and Silas steps into my path. “What, this again? Really?”

“I’m not done, so don’t give me a hard time.”

“What else can I help you with?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Okay. You’re still mad. I lied to you. You feel you can’t trust me.”

“That’s not true. The way I see it, trusting you now is probably the smartest thing I can do right now, to save my club members any more grief. You belong to people I do business with, and I have to trust them in order to do my job.”

“That’s interesting logic. Still, I don’t belong to anyone, Silas. I’m a person, not a thing.”

“Are you sure about that? Because today I find out you’re practically living in a cage in the condo unit next to the one belonging to the man you’re about to marry against your will. That sure sounds like you belong to him.”

“I don’t. It’s not like I wanted it this way!”

“Don’t freak out now. If you stop for a second, you’ll realize you’re getting bent out of shape because it’s true. And you hate it that much more now because the truth is, you want me to own you. And I already do, where it counts.”

“You own me?”

“Where it counts, yes.”

“And where’s that?”

He steps forward and ducks his head to my ear, tapping lightly on my temple. “In there,” he whispers. “Admit it. When you close your eyes and picture the life you really want, it’s me you see protecting you.” He lightly slides the back of his hand down my cheek and neck, across my shoulder, and down my arm. “And there, when you think about who you want touching you every fucking day.” His hand moves around my waist to my back, pulling me into his chest until I feel his hardness against my belly. “And here, when you imagine what it feels like for a real man to eat you up and swallow you whole. Face it, Sabrina. I. Fucking. Own. You.”

Those words leave me breathless and longing to agree with him, but I stop myself. He’s telling me this and still planning to turn me over to Lorenzo. I won’t let him use my vulnerability, even if everything he just said is true.

I shake his hand off me to stay clear-headed. “I’m no one’s plaything. I’m not a commodity for you men to collect and trade.”

“Don’t confuse what you and I have with whatever twisted game your fiancé wants to play.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart girl. Figure it out. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to remind you when you beg me to fuck you again, sweet cheeks It is what it is. Accept it.”

Jesus. As unnervingly arrogant as he is right now, it doesn’t stop my body’s reaction. My core tightens and my panties are drenched.

“Why are you here, Silas?” I breathe out, taking a shaky step back.

“Here.” He digs into his jeans pocket and pulls out my phone, holding it out towards me. “You can have this back. Kind of pointless to hold onto it when your people already know you’re here.”

“Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Why do you work for him?”

“Giovanni? I got people to take care of.”

“I was talking about my dad.

“What are you getting at, Sabrina?”

“There are better ways to run an MC than working for my father.”

“Just stop right there,” he says, and storms toward the door. “Don’t say another word.”