Page 2 of Never Distract a Biker

“I no longer work there.”

“And why is that? Did you cash out or something?”

“You know damn well why I worked there and why I no longer have to,” I glare at him, forgetting briefly that I am at his mercy.

“Whose informant are you?”

“What! No one.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

At my response, he turns to the two stone-faced men who brought me here. “Lock her up. Our honored guest needs some time alone to refresh her memory.”

He can’t be serious. Are they planning to lock me here? Alone?

“Please don’t leave me here,” I plead. But they carry on walking.

“I am pregnant,” I blurt out.

That got his attention because he stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turns back to face me, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m pregnant, and it is yours,” I say, my voice trembling but resolute.

The room plunges into silence so profound I can hear the pounding of my heartbeat. His jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something—shock, maybe even fear—in his eyes. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold mask he wears so well.

“Leave us,” he orders his men, his voice low and dangerous. They hesitate for a split second before exiting, leaving me alone with him.

As the door closes, he steps closer, crouching down so we’re at eye level. His hand lifts to brush a strand of hair from my face, a gesture so gentle it’s almost cruel.

“You’re lying,” he says softly, but there’s a storm brewing in his gaze. “Tell me the truth, Electra.”

“I am telling the truth,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

1

Scarlett

Three months earlier.

I sit across from Marina in this dimly lit coffee shop. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee offers little comfort as my mind races with worry. Just a few hours ago, I received the most gut-wrenching news from my mother's doctor. She needs specialized treatment, and the cost is astronomical—eighty thousand dollars. A sum I can't even begin to fathom.

"Marina, I don't know what to do," I confess, my voice trembling with anxiety. "Eighty thousand dollars ... I can't just pull that out of thin air." I bite my lip, replaying the doctor’s words in my head. His voice had been sympathetic but firm as he explained the urgency of the situation. My mother's condition is deteriorating rapidly, and this treatment is her best chance.

Across the table, my former roommate and friend from NYU leans forward. Her long blonde hair falls in soft waves across her face, and those piercing blue eyes study me with a mix of concern and calculation. "Scarlett, you know I’d do anything to help you, but I don’t have that kind of cash lying around." She pauses, her expression almost apologetic. "I spend my money as I make it. You know me—I do not believe in saving when I can be living my best life."

Disappointment claws at my chest. Marina had been my only hope. She always seemed so glamorous and put together, flaunting the newest gadgets and wearing designer clothes and bags. But now, it’s clear her extravagant lifestyle leaves no room for helping someone in need. I’ve scrolled through my contacts more times than I can count, but the truth is, there’s no one else who could lend me such a staggering amount.

Fuck poverty.

"I understand," I reply, my voice small and defeated. Tears sting my eyes and begin to leak down my cheeks. The weight of reality presses down on me like a crushing wave. I’m practically going to watch my mother waste away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Marina’s expression shifts. There’s a glimmer of something in her eyes—an idea forming. “There might be a solution,” she says thoughtfully, sounding cautious. “But you may not like it.”

I sit up straighter, desperation sharpening my focus. "I’ll do anything, Marina. Anything to save my mom."

Her eyes narrow slightly, her demeanor changing. There’s an edge to her voice now, something calculated and sharp. "Anything, huh?" she asks, her tone laced with intrigue. "There are options, Scarlett. Options for a girl like you."

I lean in closer, my curiosity and desperation merging into a dangerous mix. "What do you mean?"

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