Page 40 of Scornful

"A few more minutes," he says, arms tightening around me. "Let me hold you a little longer."

I don't dare argue with him.

These stolen moments are all we have, and I'm greedy for every second.

When we finally do leave, it's separately—him first, then me, twenty minutes later.

The drive back to my apartment feels endless, my body still humming from his touch, my mind spinning with everything we shared.

Tomorrow, I'll have to pretend nothing's changed.

I'll have to smile at my family, work at the spa, play my role as the VP's daughter who's definitely not sneaking around with a patched member.

But tonight, I fall asleep remembering his touch on my skin and the way he makes me feel the most alive than I ever have.

The next day at the clubhouse is complete chaos.

The main room's chaos—women dragging boxes, hanging shit, getting ready for the Halloween bash.

It’s the second biggest party of the year after Christmas.

Orange and black streamers are being hung from the ceiling, and Magnolia is putting boxes on the bar, which seems to annoy the crap out of Ulf.

Dad and Runes have a lot of the prospects doing other stuff today, so I offered to help re-stock the bar area in the club.

Ulf’s my partner in crime as it seems, but as I’ve been restocking, he’s been wiping things down and making sure we’d pass a fucking health department check.

Only issue is, the health department only checks Bubba’s, not the actual club bar.

"Astrid, can you help me with these decorations?" Mom calls from across the room, arms full of fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons that look disturbingly realistic.

Maybe I’ll throw one on Oskar later and see how real they really seem.

I abandon the box of liquor I'm unpacking behind the bar and head over to help.

Meghan and Starla are already stringing orange and black lights along the walls while Dasha sets up tables for food.

The smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon fills the air from whatever Aziza's baking in the kitchen.

"Where do you want the spider nest?" I ask, holding up the decoration.

It looks so real my skin starts crawling.

"Corner by the pool table," Mom directs. "Make it look extra creepy. You know how the guys love that stuff."

As I work, I catch sight of Everly—Kraken's adopted niece—struggling with a ladder near the stage.

She's trying to hang a banner but can't quite reach, even standing on her tiptoes.

"Need help?" I call out, already heading her way.

She turns, her golden-blonde hair falling across her face. "If you don't mind. I swear everything in this place is built for giants."

I laugh, grabbing the other end of the banner.

Everly's maybe five-foot-five on a good day, which makes her one of the shorter women around the club. "Tell me about it. I've been climbing on bar stools to reach anything above the second shelf my whole life."

"At least you've got a few inches on me." She grins. "Dad keeps threatening to buy me a step stool to carry around. Says it's a safety hazard having me climb on everything."

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