She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting the first time she walked into Nash’s apartment, but it certainly wasn’t… this. Arms folded across her chest, Eliza tried to mask her surprise as best she could, but given the way Nash was watching her, she was probably failing—badly. Everything was just so… bare.

 

It wasn’t that Nash struck her as a materialistic guy, but he seemed to have a tendency of leaning toward the finer things. His motorcycle was expensive and meticulously cared for. His leather jacket collection was off the charts, and Eliza knew that kind of stuff didn’t run cheap. While his car wasn’t anything to write home about, it was still polished and clean and upgraded with the latest dashboard gadgets. But his apartment was shockingly sparse, like he barely spent any time there, and for some reason, that concerned her.

 

Hell, she hadn’t been expecting cozy throw rugs and doilies and knick-knacks on the mantel, but some sort of décor beyond the wilting potted plant on the thick window ledge in the living room would have been nice. The furniture matched in that it was all muted greys and whites and blacks, aside from the huge desk in his office. Eliza poked her head in there briefly as he gave her the grand tour, her surprise growing when she found the desk actually had some clutter. If she hadn’t seen that, she would have wondered if he even lived there at all.

 

For a man so experienced and adept in his sexual proclivities, his bedroom was also quite muted and bland, with a made-up bed near a window and a dresser with a very faint layer of dust on it. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, studying it and wondering just how much she actually knew about the man she was dating.

 

Because she’d already seen an ugly side of Nash. When she looked back on the night at the arcade, it became almost painfully obvious that he was jealous of all the time she was spending with Professor Holstein. When she had come to that conclusion, Eliza almost felt bad—almost. After all, Nash was the one who constantly put a stop to their plans, who bailed at the last minute, and, now, who had stormed off in a jealous rage over nothing.

 

To Eliza, Nash was sex on legs. Undoubtedly the most attractive human being she’d ever seen. Did he not think she wondered about his previous romantic endeavors? Did he not think she wondered about the girls shooting him bedroom eyes in the cafeteria or library or, well, just about anywhere on campus?

 

Of course she did. Of course. But Eliza also knew, or she thought she knew, that Nash was her man. She trusted him implicitly, the bond stemming from how he’d taken of her when they first began their sexual relationship. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never cheat on her now, even if she’d questioned it early in the relationship. Now, she would never stomp off in a jealous huff.

 

But apparently she would go get completely trashed at a bar at the first whiff of trouble, only to have her father drag her into his chauffeured town car in front of all the other drunk students. The episode had been humiliating, and she’d barely been able to show her face for her Valentine’s lunch with Nash. He’d seen it all, every gory detail of her humiliation. Her father had been horrible to him too, though she couldn’t recall the exact words—much of that night was pretty hazy.

 

Yet, he drew her back to him. Showered her with a beautiful bouquet of roses while she prepped for a presentation on Valentine’s Day. Finally opened up the most private part of him to share—his home. The two-bedroom apartment surprised her, but no more than his demeanor that evening. In a way, Nash was almost fidgety—a trait she would never, ever associate with the man who knew how to make her come just by twisting her nipples a certain way.

 

But tonight he was off somehow. Something in his smile, his eyes, the way he moved. Perhaps he was nervous about showing her his apartment, but for some reason, that didn’t strike Eliza as the cause for all the fussing he was doing.

 

“So, this is me,” he said, his head appearing in the doorway between the small living area and the galley kitchen. “Tea’s almost done.”

 

“Thanks,” Eliza replied with a soft smile, seated on the edge of his couch with her hands threaded together on her lap, suddenly feeling as though she didn’t belong. “So you’re just renting this place, right?”

 

“Been renting it for years,” came his response, followed by some tinkling of cutlery and dishes. “Not sure why I like it so much.”

 

“Good location,” she offered. After all, it was pretty centralized. Far enough from campus to avoid the hub-bub of student life in the north end, but close enough to all the amenities downtown so that he could walk just about anywhere to get what he needed. Ideal, really. All the place needed were a few extra touches, something to warm it up and bring it to life, and it’d be the perfect little love nest.

 

Though Eliza would probably insist on a locked room to display all the toys she and Nash used if they ever moved in together. Not that she was thinking that far down the line, but she’d want their sex life locked up if anyone came to visit—particularly her father.

 

Oh, her father. He’d been so angry with her that night, but he was even angrier when she admitted to being in a relationship with Nash.

 

“He looks like typical Blackwoods south end trash,” her father had said when she confronted him about his dislike. “He reeks of a poor upbringing and bad news.”

 

She’d then chastised her father for judging a book by its cover, but that was all she could do and it probably hadn’t changed his mind about anything. He was a very stubborn man, Darryl Truman, and after all these years, Eliza still hadn’t figured out how to sway his opinion in her favor.

 

“Here we are,” Nash announced, setting her steaming mug down on the coffee table, the wood stained with permanent rings, probably from beer cans based on the size. He then settled on the couch beside her, sitting on the edge just as she did. For some reason, that didn’t bring her the comfort she was hoping for once he was back beside her, and Eliza swallowed hard and reached for the mug.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured after taking a tentative sip, then kept the warmth cupped between her hands rather than putting it back down. “I was wondering—”

 

He said her name sharply, causing her to look up with raised eyebrows. The tone he took with her was authoritative, and she briefly wondered if they were about to start a scene. It had been a while since he was buried, balls deep, inside her—and she really did miss it.

 

But why bring her the tea if they were going to start a scene? Would the heat be a new kind of pain for her to try and master? She licked her lips, nodding as she offered him her full attention.

 

“I didn’t bring you here just to show you my apartment,” he started, speaking slowly and purposefully. When he pressed his lips together and looked away, Eliza inched toward him and placed a hand on his knee, hoping to encourage him to go on. She couldn’t stand the unease churning in the pit of her stomach. Whatever he had to say, she could handle it.

 

“Nash?” Eliza tilted her head to the side and kept her expression as soft as possible when his eyes flitted over to her. They’d been in a weird place ever since they made their relationship official. If anything, Eliza wanted him to know that adding a label hadn’t changed things. She cared for him. She wanted them to grow together—not fall apart.

 

He sighed heavily, and just as she thought she was losing him, he covered her hand with his, his warmth radiating up her arm. Unable to help herself, Eliza turned her hand upward and worked her fingers around his, gripping his much larger hand in hers. A hand to inflict pain and pleasure. To caress and to discipline. She wanted to kiss it.

 

“There’s a lot I have to say,” Nash told her, though he didn’t squeeze her hand back when her grip tightened. “A lot to say about a lot of different things.”

 

She nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

 

“Please…” He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together, jaw flaring as he clenched it briefly. “Please let me get everything out. Just let me… say it all.”

 

A soft whoosh of air slipped past her lips, drawn in as she was about to speak, but Eliza quickly thought better of it. Instead, she just nodded again and stayed silent. Respectful. Obedient. Quiet. Her sub training kicked into high gear, because as much as she wanted to chatter and draw out every ounce of information right that second, she stayed silent because she knew that it would make Nash happy, which, in the end, would make her happy, one way or another.

 

“Okay, so…” Nash took a deep breath, and before Eliza was ready, he started. The secrets poured out of him remarkably smoothly, like a fine wine trickling over the mouth of the bottle and filling a glass. Unlike beer, there’d be no fizz, no thick white head of foamy bubbles to tickle her nose. No, the way he spoke was more like the Nash she was accustomed to—perhaps because she gave him the confidence to really speak, to really say what he needed to say.

 

Though she almost wished she hadn’t.

 

First and foremost, he wasn’t actually a business student. He had a business degree, however, but he put that into a local motorcycle club called the Steel Phoenixes. The thought made her shudder, but she kept her mouth shut. Suddenly, there was an element of danger to him, one that hadn’t been there before, and Eliza couldn’t tell if it frightened or aroused her—she’d need more time to consider it, but as she watched him talk, trying her best to listen and absorb, Eliza found she wanted to be touching him.

 

Secondly, Nash was on campus the day they bumped into one another all those months ago with a purpose—and had been ever since. Someone was killing people in his club, violently, and he’d been tasked with finding the perp responsible for the deaths. Apparently he’d tracked it down to hired hitmen, but someone was footing the bill. Holding the reins, sort of speak.

 

And the person he suspected as the grand mastermind? Her father. Unable to help herself, Eliza sputtered and pulled back, shaking her head furiously as color tinged her cheeks.

 

“No.”

 

“Eliza—”

 

“My father would never do that,” she snapped as she pulled away from him. Suddenly the room felt very hot. Stifling, even. She wanted to take off her sweater, but she didn’t want to incite his wandering gaze. Instead, Eliza stood and moved toward the window, her mind moving a mile a minute.

 

“Eliza…” Nash held up his hands, as if to calm her. “I’m only going by what the evidence has led me to.”

 

“Evidence?” She gave a hollow laugh. “What evidence? You aren’t a detective.”

 

“You don’t need to be a detective to put two-and-two together,” he argued, though he wasn’t harsh about it. He kept his tone conversational, perhaps realizing how much this was to take in for her. “I’ve been following leads for months, and the best of them have brought be back to your dad. I’m sorry, Eliza.”

 

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the window, eyes suddenly brimming with bitter, heavy tears. “Sorry for what?”

 

“For a lot of things, obviously,” Nash insisted as he stood. “For lying to you… I didn’t need to make up some bullshit about being a business student, but I did anyway. I was an idiot with you for a lot of reasons, and I am genuinely sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Before you say anything else, tell me one thing…” She swallowed hard, struggling to formulate the question that was bouncing around in her head, the words glowing like a garish neon sign. “Did you agree to a relationship with me so you could get a closer look at my father?”

 

Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for a response, knowing that she’d rather jump out that window than accept that he had used her. Nash gave her a hard look, then shook his head.

 

“Of course not.” His hands fell to his hips as he started to pace, slowly, controlled. “Being with the dean’s daughter… It wasn’t an advantage in my mind. It’d put me in the spotlight if anything. I don’t do relationships, Eliza. Don’t you understand that by now? I don’t keep women in my life because… Well, my life is fucked.” Nash looked to her, frowning. “I’ve wanted to break things off because it’d be better for you. If I was using you to get to him, I would have… I don’t know, I probably would have proposed or something. Your dad just came on my radar for the shit going down with the Phoenixes because that’s where the trail led. I figured I owed it to you to tell you before I told the guys about my findings.”

 

“Don’t!” she blurted, a cold fear gripping her insides like an iron vice. Nash stopped pacing with a sigh. “Please don’t tell anyone. I appreciate you sharing all this with me, being honest with me, but please don’t.”

 

“Eliza, I have to.”

 

“He’s not like that,” she reasoned. Her father couldn’t be that man. He was many things, but he wasn’t a killer. A political puppet master, yes, but not the kind that would pull the strings of hitmen. “He would never—”

 

“I saw the way he treated you that night,” Nash interjected softly, his expression hardening. “He manhandled you, pushed you around. Shit, Eliza, he—”

 

“He’s a lot of things, yes.” Eliza let him cross the room to her this time, watching as he pressed a hand against the wall beside the window and leaned against it. “He’s strong-willed and stubborn, and he doesn’t give affection that often. But I know him. He dabbles in power politics with academics, not… not…”

 

“Drug dealing bikers?”

 

Her eyes flitted to his as she swallowed hard, the truth hurting more than a little. “Y-yeah. That.”

 

They studied one another for a long moment, as if appraising the other in a new light, until Eliza finally tucked her hair behind her ears and pushed away from the window.

 

“Are you scared of me now?” he asked as she walked toward the couch. She considered the question carefully, refusing to let the first thing she had in mind be said.

 

“No,” Eliza remarked, each word chosen with care, “I’m not. I feel… I almost don’t know you anymore, I guess. I don’t trust you like I did when I came here an hour ago.”

 

That was what was broken—trust. She didn’t care that Nash was a biker. Why should she? Everyone had a path in life, and Nash’s was just a more dangerous one than the average man chose. He’d hinted at criminal activity, however, and that would take Eliza a little more time to come to terms with than him being part of a motorcycle club. That particular fact would need to be mulled over when she was back at her apartment, alone, where she could come to grips with her feelings.

 

Here, standing in front of him, it was hard to be too critical.

 

Because she really cared for him, lies and all.

 

“I’d never hurt you, Eliza,” Nash said as he settled on the window ledge. When their eyes met, his lips turned into a sly smirk, and he added, “Not unless you want me to, of course.”

 

“Nash,” she warned, her tone less playful than his. “Not now.”

 

He nodded, his smile fading. “I know, I’m sorry. I was just… Shit, Eliza, I wish I hadn’t pull the shit I did with you, but here we are. And with your dad—”

 

“He’s not who you think he is,” Eliza argued. She knew in her heart of hearts that it was true. “Please. He’s a good man. Stern, yes. Controlling… Yes, I know that better than anyone does. But he would never do anything like what you’ve accused him of doing. He wants a cushy life as the dean and a big house and a good retirement pension. He doesn’t even drink, let alone do any harder drugs. I know him, Nash.” She looked to him imploringly, hoping that she was getting through to him. “Please don’t turn him in. Try another theory, because I know all signs may be pointing to him, but there might be another story here. Please. He’s a good man… and he’s the only father I have.”

 

Nash licked his lips and looked away, muscular arms folded across his chest. She studied them appreciatively for a moment, then turned her attention elsewhere.

 

“You know,” Nash started, shaking his head slightly, “he doesn’t deserve a daughter like you.”

 

Unable to help herself, Eliza let out a deep breath, the tension easing from her body, and smiled.