“Pleasure's all mine,” Royal drawls, his accent disappearing in a rush of West Coast. He must've lived here a long time to be able to switch it on and off like that. Or he's just a good actor. I met a lot of assholes in college that were just like him—charming, charismatic, completely full of shit.
Then again, they didn't run a freaking motorcycle club. That makes Royal even more dangerous, doesn't it? After all, a president of an MC is still a president. A politician. An actor.
Dick.
The mean thought makes me feel a little better.
“I should get going,” I say, looking down at the two wolf dogs as they wag their tails and sniff around the plain black heels on my feet. “Don't you have to be at the office, too?” I ask, pointedly addressing my sister. I could've said nothing and gotten more of a reaction out of her.
“Huh? Sure,” she says, still staring at Royal like she's just uncovered buried treasure. Surprisingly, his gaze only lingers on hers for a moment before it swings my way. I feel like I've just stepped into the sun.
“Could I borrow you for a second?” he asks, switching back on that British charm. Somehow I think he's got a sense that it gets to me. It's just … that rugged exterior of his paired with that accent? I wish for a moment there that Toni had never left. I might still be working as my dad's intern, but then I wouldn't have to stand here and nod, pretending that I don't mind having a moment alone with Royal McBride.
“Of course,” I say, reaching down and smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on my black skirt. The outfit I'm wearing today is eerily similar to yesterday's: black skirt and matching suit jacket, pale blue button-down, black kitten heel pumps. I even have my hair up in the same, tight bun.
“But first, let me fix that for you,” Royal says, his voice teetering on the edge of a growl. Those sexy inked up fingers of his slide from his jeans pocket and reach out, pulling the black clip from my hair before I can even process what it is that he's doing.
Brunette waves tumble around my shoulders and slide across my brow as I blink back my shock and risk a quick glance at Kailey. She's staring at me like I've grown a second head.
“Aren't you a virgin?” she whispers, like that has any relevance to the situation. For the record, I'm not, okay? I lost my virginity when I was sixteen years old. God, Kailey can be such a … a bitch.
“What are you doing?” I ask as Royal takes a step back and hooks my clip to his pocket, like what he just did was no big deal. In the world I come from, people don't just reach out and touch each other's hair. It's an intimate sort of a thing, isn't it? Or maybe I'm just being prudish, I don't know.
“Doing? Just pulling the shades up on your pretty, love.” Royal makes a clicking sound and the wolf dogs' ears perk up as they move away from me and my sister and start to follow him. I glance over at my sister again, but she's staring at Royal's tight ass as he moves away.
“I set up a meeting for Friday,” I tell him as I struggle to catch up, taking three steps for every one of his. Surprisingly, Royal notices and slows down, matching his pace to mine. “With Janae,” I add, in case there was any doubt I was telling the truth.
“I know what your dad's getting out of all this,” he begins and my heart sinks a little. Business. But of course he wants to talk business. What else did I think he was going to say? We met yesterday; we're complete opposites. There's literally nothing between us but business. “But nobody from the mayor's office has ever asked me what the club's getting out of our agreement.”
“No,” I respond, my heart rate slowing as I adjust to the conversation. Yes, my hair's fluttering around my face in the breeze, the taste of salt kissing my lips, but I can do business. It keeps me calm and comfortable, in my zone. “Because that's not important. Mr. Rentz,” I say and pause when Royal tosses me a weird look. I know it's odd that I call my dad Mr. Rentz, but it helps people take me more seriously. Imagine saying Daddy this and Papa that to your arrogant asshole male coworkers.
I clear my throat and start again.
“Mr. Rentz isn't concerned with the club's business,” I begin, reciting part of a practiced speech, one that I'd cooked up exactly for a meeting like this. First time I saw Royal, it all flew right out my ears and disappeared on the breeze. This time though, I've got my head on straight. Last night was a bit of a wake up call; I won't make the same mistake. As of right now, nothing's happened. Imagine if I had actually had sex with the guy?
Good God.
“Mr. Rentz sure seemed concerned with club business when he sent the feds our way,” Royal says, his voice shifting dangerously. By the time I realize what's happening, we've turned a corner at the end of the road and my back's to the brick wall of the shop. Not a half mile behind Royal, the earth drops down in a series of dips and swells, dotted with small trees and tangles of blackberry bushes, until it dips into the navy blue of the sea.