Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(70)

He went still.

The whoosh of air in his lungs echoed in my ear. I flinched. Did he take it the wrong way? I hadn’t meant it—not at all. I would never do that to him.

“To divorce me means you have to marry me first.”

Slowly, I untangled myself from him, staring into his eyes. “Not these days. De facto counts as marriage in legal purposes.”

His face fell.

God, why did I say that? Why did I say such a stupid thing? It made it sound like I didn’t want to get married. That my heart hadn’t selected him since I was born. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m …” I glanced away. “I’m nervous, I guess.”

Arthur’s fingers pressed against my jaw, guiding my eyes to his. “You’re nervous because you’re worried I’ll think you’re after my money, or you’re nervous because I might ask you right here, right now to marry me?”

The world stopped spinning even as my heart started whizzing in my chest. “Um, both.”

Bending slightly, he pressed the sweetest of kisses against my lips. “Riches come in many forms, Buttercup, and you’ve made me beyond wealthy.” His mouth moved to my ear. “And rest easy. When I propose, it won’t be in the middle of a smoky barbeque with a bunch of drunk-ass bikers.”

I swallowed. My heart floated. My body was weightless.

“You know me. You know I’ve always had that desire to better myself. To provide for people I care for.” His tone was strained rather than proud. “To make a mark in the world.”

“I remember,” I murmured. “But what does that have to—”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here. You can tame me. Bring me back to what matters and stop me chasing things I don’t necessarily need.”

Like what?

A patter of fear disappeared down my spine.

“Take that, motherf*cker.” Grasshopper danced around like a lunatic, holding up a perfectly charred piece of meat. The barbeque was now tamed and behaving after imitating a fire-breathing demon. “You can all refer to me as master chef from now on.”

The men and women mingling around laughed.

The interruption ceased our conversation and Arthur let me go, moving away to slouch against a spindly looking tree. He shoved his hands into his pockets. I liked to think he just wanted to relax, but the pain darkening his eyes squeezed my chest. The tree wasn’t just to lean against—it was for support.

I let him recuperate in silence.

I went to his side, and we watched the commotion for a while. Beetle came forward and handed Arthur an icy beer. When he offered me a bourbon, I turned my nose up and accepted a bottled water instead.

Sipping quietly, my heartbeat calmed and I soaked in the happiness of such an evening.

I didn’t know how much time passed while we relaxed in each other’s company.

I wanted to ask questions. I wanted to know everything there was to know, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

However, Arthur must’ve sensed my desires, because he took another pull of his beer and said, “When I gained my freedom from Florida State, I had nothing to my name—not even the T-shirt on my back. Wallstreet made sure I had a home to go to, a bank account to utilize, and friends to trust.”

His voice was thick and delicious as honey. “The money trickled in at first. I wasn’t confident in what Wallstreet taught me and it took a while for me to start trading large amounts.” His eyes connected with mine. “Wallstreet gave me two million dollars to use to get the Club back in order and to trade with.”

I blinked. “Wow. That’s a hell of an investment.”

Arthur took another sip. “It was the strangest thing to be treasured for the same gifts that I’d been shunned for all my life.” Stroking his weeping beer bottle, he continued. “Like I said, I didn’t feel comfortable trading with his money—what if I lost it and couldn’t get it back? I owed him my life, my world.” He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t do that.”

“How did you make your fortune then?”

Arthur kept his eyes on the chaos of bikers and their women as the Club prepared the garden for dinner. Three large foldaway tables appeared and were put in a mismatch of places. Chairs were slammed into the grass and firewood was brought by the armful to slowly create a teepee of logs and tinder in the central fire pit.

“I allowed myself one hundred thousand of Wallstreet’s money. I figured if I lost it, I wouldn’t be in debt all my life trying to pay it back. And it was enough to trade large amounts that meant my rewards swiftly grew.”

I stayed silent, willing him to tell me more.

“I came pretty close to losing it. One trade wiped me out because I hadn’t put a f*cking stop loss.” He scowled. “A dumbass mistake—just like the one I did today. I should’ve known better then and I definitely should’ve known better now.”

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand over his face. “Stop loss, Buttercup. The ultimate requirement in any trade. I’ll teach you that. Don’t worry.”

I jolted to think of ever having the intelligence Arthur did. Trading with money terrified me. It seemed as dangerous as gambling if not taken seriously and approached with logic and formulas.

Arthur pushed off from the tree. “When I’d doubled the hundred grand, I started to look at other means to make money. I used some of my profits and bought a local business.”