Page 24 of War

“There’s plenty of food… take a seat.”

He grins, flashing a dimple on his right cheek. He licks his lips as he takes one of the waffles, and I notice his tongue is pierced.

Yeah, Lu is in trouble.

The men all start to pile in, a few I haven’t met yet. I get to put a face to the name when War introduces me to Angel, the man who walked in on us last night. He has dark eyes framed in thick lashes, deeply tanned skin, a beard, and a deep scar slashing through his eyebrow and continuing down his cheek.

He’s both hot and terrifying.

When Ghost arrives, he takes in the full room, his brow furrowing. He sees me in the center, making sure everyone is fed.

Our eyes lock and hold, and the air in the room becomes denser. He runs a busted-up hand over his bald head but doesn’t say anything, waiting for me.

“You want something to eat, Ghost?” I ask.

An olive branch.

He nods, and I gesture to an empty chair.

It’s kind of amusing because it’s his clubhouse, not mine, but he was almost asking permission.

War nods at him, a pleased look flickering across his face.

And then the last person to join us is Rome.

He, too, takes in the room—the men all sitting together, laughing, joking, and eating together like a family.

Then he brings his now warm blue eyes to me. “Can I fix you a plate?” I ask, not sure if I’m meant to refer to him as Rome or Prez.

Or Dad.

Shutting down my intrusive thoughts, I wait for him to reply.

“I’d love one. I can’t remember the last time we all sat down and ate together,” he murmurs, taking the last empty seat at the head of the table.

It’s almost as if they all saved it for him.

War’s plate was the only other one I dished out myself. I wonder if he notices that I’m doing the same for Rome.

“Thank you, Ora,” Rome replies, scanning my face.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, and War pulls me onto his lap.

Rome eyes us, taking in War’s hand spread out over my stomach—a possessive hold. “If you fuck this up, War, don’t think there’s a brother in here who wouldn’t want to step up and claim her.”

My eyes flare, not expecting those words from the president of the MC.

War goes still underneath me, and the tension radiating from him is palpable. “I’m not going to fuck this up.”

My hand squeezes his thigh, and he relaxes. “Next time, I’ll make everyone a nice dinner.”

The men call out their happiness, their thanks and appreciation.

“Better put a property cut on her, War!” Haze calls out, smirking.

Ghost’s lip twitches, and to me, that feels like a win.

War runs his thumb across my waist, and a warm feeling consumes me.

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