Addictive (Diamondback MC Second Generation 3)

“Probably the black bear, or maybe the alligators, or… I know, the cougar!” He climbs into the backseat, knowing my rules about him being too small for the front seat. He’s all skin and bones right now at this age, much like his father and I were as children, not coming into our size until we hit puberty; then there was no stopping us. We ate as much as we could, always hungry, working it off in the weight room, or if my father took us out on a job. Not the kind where we’d torture our enemies or could potentially get picked up by the cops. Fuck that. My papa valued his balls too much for that to happen. Instead, he’d have us break down crates, sweep floors, take out the trash. Any menial task he could find, we’d do.

“It sounds like you have it all planned out. Tomorrow, we’ll make ravioli and hang by the pool. That way, you’re not too worn out for school come Monday. No more begging to stay home, okay?” That was part of the problem when I let Dante stay up late eating cake. He begged Hilda to stay home, claiming he had a stomachache, was tired, and felt like it was the end of the world to get up so early.

“That was only once, Uncle Massimo. You can’t blame a boy, can you?” That’s the problem; I can’t, and he knows it. Had it not been for Hilda, Dante would have stayed home, and then he’d probably try to get away with it again.

“I’m not saying I haven’t tried it a few times when I was your age, but if I hadn’t gone to school, can you imagine how upset Nonna and Nonno would have been?” I look in the rearview mirror. He’s deep in thought but nods his head in the end. Maybe this parenting gig won’t be so tough after all.

CHAPTER 9

HENLEY

SIX WEEKS LATER

“Massimo,” I answer my phone, out of breath from running to the device like a lovesick fool. Yep, I’ve become that woman, and it’s only taken him two weeks of calling or texting. I look forward to it. The times he’s missed it, I’ve pouted like the idiot I clearly am for even attempting to have anything to do with him. The way he says my name, the way we’re getting to know one another, it didn’t take him long to get under my skin.

“Henley,” he replies, voice smooth like velvet coming across from the other end of the line. The rustling of papers tells me he’s in his office. A normal thing when he calls me each night. I’ve just finished working myself, pulling in overtime to get the documents I was working on just right. It goes to the lead attorney tomorrow for the final approval, and there was no way I’d be sending over an incomplete packet. That’s not something I would ever do even if I had to pull an all-nighter. Thankfully, I’m all settled into my apartment. The bigger SUV was smart on my dad’s part; he wasn’t wrong when he said I could pick things up on my own. It started with a few boxes that were in their garage until Mom came out, saw what I was doing, and had Jackson come home to help, then Dad called in the rest of the club. Instead of taking a few days to move in slowly, I was moved in that day. True to Mom’s word, she unpacked the kitchen. Aunt Fallon worked on the bathroom, and Sailor and Ender stopped by with pizza and beer, neither of which I consumed. Instead opting for chicken noodle soup out of the can. Weird, I know, something that is surrounded by metal doesn’t actually taste like it.

“What are you doing that has you breathless?” Massimo groans through the phone. That’s another thing, the flirtation he gives me; it makes me feel, well, like a woman again, something that the cancer along with the hysterectomy made me feel like I wasn’t.

“Not that. I was in the kitchen making a snack.” The sun is just now setting, giving the sky a purple and pink hue with hints of orange. The furniture I had in my parents’ garage is set up—the dark olive suede couch, the off-white plush chair that swivels and rocks. I plop down on the couch, winded from just the small jaunt. Fuck you very much, body of mine.

“Hmm, I think I like my way of thinking better than what you were actually doing.” A tingle climbs up my body, a feeling I haven’t experienced in quite some time.

“I’m not sure those thoughts are appropriate for friends to hear,” I tease. You think I’ve never flirted before with how ridiculous this man is making me feel.