Page 70 of Savage Grace

But there were three men there that I did not recognise.

A dark-skinned man stood behind the booth’s seat with crossed arms, but a friendly face. I could kind of tell that he was attempting something like a pout, but his warm brown eyes and high cheekbones ruined any of his attempts at looking rough or mean. His hair was cropped short, along with his well-groomed beard.

One of the men who sat sprawled out casually in the booth was probably about Ashe’s age, maybe even younger, and he watched me with careful suspicion. His shiny, jet black hair was swooped back, Justin Bieber style, and pushed out of his face. His ink-black eyes were framed by a heavy set of brows. The darkness of his features was only offset by the boyish plumpness of his cheeks—which he must’ve been self-conscious of, due to the splattering of thick stubble that looked worn in and deliberate.

The other man was older, and I could only assume that it was Prince.

His chocolatey brown hair was peppered with a few greys but slicked back neatly, and all-together, he looked like a very put together person. His shirt was clean and well fitted, unlike the rest of the guys who looked much more unkempt. I could tell in the few seconds I spent looking at him that he was probably the perfectionistic type, probably had some control issues too.

But I didn’t get a chance to look much longer, to assess these men as much as I would have liked, before the older one stood with a sigh, pushing himself upwards and closing the space between us in one swift stride.

I didn’t realise I was holding my breath when he reached his hand out to me, offering it for a shake. I must’ve looked like even more of a dumb blonde than I usually did, because I blinked at it a few times before taking it and shaking his hand weakly.

“Harlen Prince,” he introduced himself with his full name, I noticed. “Welcome.”

“Zarina Santino,” I nearly curtseyed, for some fucking reason. Maybe because the whole situation felt so fucking formal, even though I was in a rundown MC clubhouse with my situationship.

A hint of a smirk brushed his lips.

“This is Freddie,” he gestured to the man with the swoopy black hair.

Freddie offered me a jut of his chin in greeting.

Ok, so he’s the dark and broody mysterious one.

“And this is Dash,” Prince waved towards the man who stood behind the booth, who gave me a genuine-looking smile, proving that he was indeed, probably the friendly one of the group.

“Hi,” I managed to squeak out meekly, offering a limp-wristed wave in return.

“I believe you know Charmer and Bull.”

“Indeed I do,” I nodded.

Charmer shot me a mock salute. “Good to see you again, Cap’n.”

Ashe’s palm didn’t leave the small of my back for even a second, and I was grateful for the small reminder of his presence to calm my nerves. For some reason, the confident, carefree version of myself was squashed down in that moment with all those eyes on me.

Maybe it was because I was starkly aware that they were the eyes of my family’s enemies. And it was impossible to know if they would treat me as such.

“Henny says that you might have some information for us, about recent events.”

Prince didn’t muck around or bother with small talk or pleasantries.

I nodded. “Mainly suspicions, at this point.”

Prince assessed me for a moment longer, as if trying to size me up and make out what to think of me—just like I had done with all of them.

I briefly wondered if he had the same talent as I did, if he could feel out a person just by following whatever his gut said as he looked at them.

“I’ll take anything I can get.” His harsh face finally fell a little, the tension leaving and his eyes crinkling at the creases as he gave a hint of a smile.

“Finish your drinks, fuckers,” Prince raised his voice and addressed the room. “Table in two minutes.”

I looked up to Ashe who only nodded reassuringly, gently guiding me to follow Prince down the hallway and to a secluded room at the end.

I hadn’t realised how big this place was from the outside. Because apart from the open gathering area I had just been in, the hallway split three ways, and each direction was filled with doorways leading to god knows where.

When I stepped through the heavy door at the end of the hall, I immediately felt like I should not have been there. Not because of the sort of imposter syndrome that I had in the gathering area, but something different entirely.

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