Without waiting for him, I move up the two cement steps and through the sliding glass door, plastering a smile on my face and enjoying the way all eyes go to the two lines on my cheeks, the ones I didn't bother to cover up. I've got lipstick on, eyeshadow, mascara, but nothing to hide my battle scars. Read this and weep, bitches.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” I say as I slowly pull off the leather glove on my right hand, pinching each individual finger and drawing it carefully up over my fingertips. “It smells amazing in here. Anything I can help with?”
I notice that big guy with the beard—the infamous Dober—come inside from a set of sliding doors directly opposite the ones I just walked through, the smell of smoke trailing along behind him.
“Howdy y'all,” Royal says, popping in the door to my right, sounding distinctly not British. My mouth twitches as Dober nods at him and Fauna mumbles a quiet hello into the sudden silence. There's an elephant in this room and it's one hundred percent got everything to do with me. “What's with all the mopey faces?” Royal asks, sliding a cig from the pack in his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. The house smells warm and yeasty, like freshly baked bread, so I imagine Janae has some sort of no-smoking inside policy.
My smile turns genuine as I finally get the right glove off and tuck it carefully into the pocket on my jacket. Before I start in on the left, Royal and I exchange a long, lingering look, one that I'm sure every person in that kitchen is watching. It's embarrassing as hell, but I'm not about to let on I'm feeling that way.
Politics. This—every last look, smile, whispered word—it's all politics.
“Oh, look who's bloody bothered to show up!” Glacier says, mocking Royal's accent as he saunters through the door and props one of his black boots up on the bricks of the fireplace. “And how are you today, Miss Deputy Mayor?”
“Bugger off,” Royal tells him, giving me a slight nod followed by a massive grin. This might all be for show, and I might not have said yes, and this might be the biggest mistake either of us have ever made in our lives, but holy shit he looks happy. A warm thrill travels through me and I shiver, yanking the glove the rest of the way off, unable to keep the smile off my own face.
“Ooooh,” Glacier crows, clapping his tattooed hands together and tossing his head back with a laugh. “I guess I should say, how are you today, Mrs. Deputy Mayor?”
“Looks like congratulations are in order,” Glinda pipes up, her southern accent thick as honey, her smile as fake as her press-on nails. Some of the other women, the ones I haven't met yet, have more genuine expressions on their faces, if not a little bit reserved.
“I was going to propose today in front of everyone, but I just couldn't stand the anticipation,” Royal says, his posture loose and easy, his expression radiating confidence and authority. But there's hardly any accent there, a sign that he really is nervous. “What do you think of my old lady?” he asks, snaking his arm around my waist and tucking me in close. I let him do it, reminding myself that this is a different world, that when in Rome, well … you know. Now, when we finally sit down to dinner with my family … things might go a little differently.
“You've really done it this time,” Glacier says, lacing his fingers together behind his blond head, blue eyes sparkling as he watches me with that penetrating gaze of his. The guy is beyond fucking creepy.
“Where'd you get the ring?” Fauna asks, stepping around the island and holding her arms out for a hug. I haven't exactly forgotten her initial reaction to Royal's and my relationship, but I let her pull me in anyway. After a hearty squeeze, she moves over for Janae.
“It was my sister's,” Royal says, and nobody responds to that. I guess they all know the story already? It makes me wonder what other parts of his past they're all privy to that I'm not.
“Congratulations and welcome to the family,” one of the girls says, her face young but strangely similar to Fauna's. Based on the skintight leggings and the tank top covered in skulls, I'm guessing this is the teenage daughter whose clothes I borrowed. “I'm Serenity, by the way.” A big smile. “Nice to meet you, Lyric.”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” I say as introductions are made for the other women in the kitchen. Glinda's the last one to pull me into a hug, her body stiff, shoulders tight. Good. I've managed to twist the bullshit she fed me at the café into a working advantage. Now, instead of me being the one caught off guard, the joke's on the rest of the club.
“Come out and say hi to the boys,” Royal says as a pair of kids run screaming into the house, chasing each other around the small dining table that sits opposite the kitchen. I raise my brows, surprised to see them here. This is the first time I've seen any hint of the family side of club life. Other than the motorcycles and the leather vests, it seems pretty normal so far.