Dragon's Lair (Wind Dragons MC #1)(16)

I blink. “I don’t remember.”

“Who said that about you Faye?” he demands, his playful demeanor gone.

I smirk. “Someone in the house you’ve slept with.”

I watch his face go blank. Jeez how many of the women has he slept with? I tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will be able to figure it out. I suggest doing a chart or a graph.”

“Fuck, you’re a pain in the ass. How did Eric handle you?” he says on a sigh.

“He didn’t,” I say, smirking once more.

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” he growls, his gaze lowering to my lips.

“How many men have you slept with?” he asks, taking a step closer to me, invading my personal space.

“What a rude question,” I muse. I’m pretty sure that’s not something you go around asking people.

“How many, Faye?”

I count all my ten fingers. “Well that was just this year…”

“Faye…”

“Two, including you. How many women have you slept with?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at him. “Do you need a calculator?”

“Eric is a boy. I said men,” he replies, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“I guess only you then,” I whisper, caught up in his gaze.

He smiles, showing his straight white teeth. “I like that.” It doesn’t escape my attention that he ignored my question, but I don’t push. I know I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Of course you would,” I mutter to myself.

“It means that you’re mine now,” he whispers, then looks away. I think I hear him mutter the word ‘soon.’

“Come on, we gotta go meet the boss,” he says, taking my hand in his. He leads me down the hall and knocks on a door.

“Come in!” a rough voice yells. We walk into an office. Well I think it’s an office. It has a huge table and a cabinet in it, and another door. A man who looks to be in his forties, with salt and pepper hair and a beard, sits at a table. He looks fit, no beer belly for this man. He looks up at me and scowls.

“What did I do?” I ask, unable to help myself. He has a grumpy face but kind eyes.

Dex squeezes my hand, as in—shut up Faye.

“Jim this is Faye. Faye this is Jim, our president. You will show him respect,” he says, warning in his tone. I stare at the man’s leather vest with the word ‘president’ written on there.

“Hi,” I say carefully, not knowing what he wanted to see me about.

He leans back in his huge black chair and studies me. “Do you know why you’re here?”

I swallow. The man is intense. “Because Dex feels sorry for me?”

“Because Sin is a good man, and you’re carrying his baby. I hope you’re a good woman. Sin says we can trust you, and as my vice president, I trust him.”

I nod at the club president. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

I knew Dex was the VP because Eric told me, but also because it says so on his vest.

I turn to him. “VP is impressive by the way.”

A dimple appears. “Glad you approve.”

“I trust you know your place here?” Jim asks, staring me down.

I nod sagely. “Yes sir. I won’t even tell anyone about the orgies you guys have.”

Jim turns a weary look to Dex who sighs. “I’ll handle her don’t worry.”

“You damn well better,” Jim says, having a silent conversation with Dex with his eyes.

Dex nods back at him. “Understood.”

Jim looks back at me. “Help out when you can and keep your mouth shut about anything you hear or see.”

I nod, internally fuming at being treated like lesser human being. Fucking bikers.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask Jim, pasting a smile on my face. “How come everyone has a nickname but you go by Jim. Can I give you a name suggestion?”

A few come to mind.

He shakes his head at me, but I don’t miss the amused look that flashes on his features. “Goodbye Faye.”

Dex grabs me and leads me out. I grin. “I like him.”

I watch as Dex palms his face.





Chapter Eight





I spend the rest of the day enrolling in uni, ordering textbooks, and making plans. When dinner time comes around, I head out in search of food.

“Hello,” I say to Mary, one of the girls I’d met this morning.

“Hey Faye,” she replies, smiling sweetly. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Where is everyone?” I ask her. I haven’t seen Dex since he brought me lunch at around one o’clock.

“The women are around somewhere, I don’t know about the men,” she replies, shrugging slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” I say, gently tapping my stomach. “Does everyone live here?” I ask, gesturing to the clubhouse.

“Everyone has a room here, but they don’t all live here. They crash here whenever they feel like it,” she replies, stirring the pasta she made.

“What about you?” I ask, taking a seat.

“I don’t live here, I just come by most days. I’m kind of seeing Arrow,” she explains. I want to ask what ‘kind of’ seeing means, but I don’t. Jessica, Allie, and another girl named Jayla walk into the kitchen.