Making the Break (Beating the Biker 2)

“Exactly what I said. She showed up at the Red Bull, before the official meet, and one thing led to another.”

“You mean she—?”

“Yes!” Saks wiped his face with paper towels from the dispenser.

“Minga!” Vits spit. “He said the girl was a virgin.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Uncle Vits, it doesn’t matter if she is or not. And really, how would he know?”

“He said she was a good girl.”

“Oh, she was.” Saks regretted his words the instant they slipped out, especially when Vits’ eyes grew wide.

“Not acceptable,” warned Vits.

Saks turned from the mirror and faced his uncle. “Really? That Chrissy wasn’t a virgin? Or that the two of you concocted a scheme so crazy it went haywire? I said I’d meet her, and I did.”

“You make it right with her. You gave your word.”

“Sure, I’ll apologize. But what good will it do? She told me she’d prefer to die than marry a Rocco, and you know what? I don’t blame her one bit.” Saks picked up his ruined shirt and his jacket and walked past his uncle. Now that the worst of the confrontations was over, the righteous fire in his heart turned into heartburn. As gorgeous, as smart, and as awesome as Chrissy was, he’d never marry into that family.

Except he still had to smooth things over with the Serafinis, and he had no freakin’ clue how he was going to accomplish that.

CHAPTER TWO

At her house, Chrissy dove onto her bed and wished she could disappear. How had one moment gone so horribly wrong? She closed her eyes tighter and screamed into her pillow when she realized she’d left Saks stranded at the diner with the two worst men in the world. She groaned at her thoughtlessness then became mad at herself for caring. He had the nerve to accuse her of stalking him? Of targeting him for seduction? What the hell?

And Saks was the Rocco they wanted her to marry? Well, clearly, that was never happen.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the outrageous situation. For Saks to think she was a femme fatale who aimed to lure him into marriage was utterly ridiculous. And the way he talked about her family. You damned Serafinis will do anything to get what you want. Infuriating.

And true, too.

Chrissy groaned, unable to get a grasp on a decent thread of emotion on the situation. One minute she hooked up with handsome, sexy, and oh-so-good-in-bed Saks, and the next she’d dumped a plate of Eggs Benedict on his head. That after kneeing him in the crotch the night before and slapping him in the face.

Chrissy had to admit it. She’d erupted into a one-woman demolition derby of love.

She groaned again and hot tears welled in her eyes.

Damn. She was not going to cry. No way.

Yet here she was. Crying. And once she admitted that fact, the tears poured out so fast she gasped for breath.

How did she get herself into this? All she wanted was to work a good job, make her own money, and put it away in a nice, tidy 401K to buy her own house. She wanted to find a nice, respectable man who made three figures to have 2.4 children with in a very nice suburb with superb schools.

But noooooooo. She had to fall into bed with a biker, a motorcycle mechanic, for goodness’ sake, who turned out to be—ta-da—the nephew of her grandfather’s fiercest rival.

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Chrissy muttered. She lifted her head and saw her mascara smudged against the sheets. She’d managed to make her life more of mess than mascara on her sheets because she’d jumped into bed with a perfect stranger.

A stranger perfect for her in all the wrong ways, and none of the right ones. She had no business being with Saks, not if she wanted the life she’d carefully worked for.

Chrissy sat up, sniffled, and because she had nothing else to lose wiped her face with her pillow case. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. The sharp tone of her phone ringing captured her attention. Still snuffling her nose, Chrissy slung her purse onto the bed and fished for it. “Hello!”

“Christina.” Mom.

She cringed. Why hadn’t she checked the call waiting? Hoping it was Saks wasn’t going to make him call. “Yes, Mom.”

“What’s wrong?”