“What?!”
“For eye candy,” I teased.
“Don’t fuck with me, Duchess.”
“Exactly. I needyou,as the Harlots VP, to make sure they know that.”
She smirked and shook her head. “Just let me know when to be ready.”
I had a good relationship with some of the chapters in the RBMC. Colt made sure of that when I initially started all this. But Jameson was another storm altogether. I didn't know what to expect of this meeting. All I knew was that I needed to get my shit together because Elrik Jameson wasn't about issuing forgiveness at the moment. I had to be on my game in order to get what I wanted.
The young manI once knew was now gone. In his place was a tattooed, blue-eyed hunk of a man with a deadly stare and true vengeance in his eye.
"Duchess," he greeted me as Colt walked in behind him. My brother also looked much older. He’d grown out his blonde hair, gotten a lot more muscles than I remembered, and his hazel eyes stared back at me expectantly.
I wanted to greet him properly, but there were too many witnesses, so I simply cocked my head at him, and he did the same.
“Jameson,” I reached to take his hand, but instead he came over to me and wrapped his arms around me.
"You've grown up, Stephanie Winters."
I tugged on his leather jacket, "You got old, Elrik Jameson."
It was as if time had never stopped. We were back at being young teenagers trying to manage living in a clubhouse. When we were younger, we’d get bullied a lot in school. People liked to judge us, others shunned us for the life our parents lived. So all we had was each other, especially in high school. We were inseparable back then. It was good to see he hadn’t forgotten that.
"Shit happens to a man when he gets exiled."
"So I've heard. Never believed a word of it. Glad you made it out alive.”
He grunted. “After hearing what you’ve been through, glad you did too.”
“Barely,” I whispered.
I turned and introduced Rhea, who seemed shocked at our interaction.
“Nick’s granddaughter?” He asked, reaching out to her for a handshake.
“That’s right,” she squared her shoulders, standing at her full five-foot-seven stature.
“He was a good man. He used to ride with my dad. Had him visit a couple times.”
Rhea glanced at me as her shoulders slowly eased. We weren’t expecting an empathetic President.
Colt came around and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “See, I told you it wasn’t so bad,” he whispered.
“We’ll see,” I whispered back.
“How you doin’ Reaper? Seems like the Den has gotten some work done since the last time I was here.” Jameson placed a hand on his shoulder before taking a seat near him at the end of the conference table.
We were in Reaper’s back offices, hidden from eyes and ears, in a completely soundproof room.
Reaper chuckled. “Let’s just say business has been good.
“Good to hear.”
Rhea and I took our seats across from them and quietly waited for Jameson to say something. I still didn’t know what to do here, because I didn’t know what he wanted.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and stared at me. "The Royal Harlots MC. Tell me about it."
