Page 11 of Unwrapped

I cringe as she places her hand in mine, squeezing firmly. I’d rather fuck a pinecone than spend the holidays with Isabella and her blueblood old-money family. I grin sardonically as I hand the coat-check girl the ticket for Isabella’s mink coat. She wears fur. I should’ve broken up with her just for that weeks ago. But I didn’t. I was too busy closing the Geffen deal to see what my gut knew but I didn’t want to yet deal with, she’s all wrong. Hell, my whole life is wrong. Everything I’ve worked for is about to crash all around me like a stack of cards.

My peers, employees, and friends know me by the persona I’ve created—Darren Preston, CEO of Drago International, an international investment firm specializing in venture capital start-ups. But underneath my custom-made tailored suits is the truth; I’m Dare, the former errand boy for CREED MC. And I don’t mean fetching beer and cigarettes. If there was a hole that needed digging, I dug it. If there was a run that needed doing, I was the man-child who did it. I learned how to lay low and blend into the background at an early age. I had skills at thirteen that the MC found valuable. Like a ghost, I moved in shadows: eavesdropping, setting up surveillance and gathering intel for the club.

No one saw me. Invisible.

But I was used to that.

My gut clenches. No matter how many years have gone by or how far I’ve come—the old pain of being an unwanted child never left my soul. But I found family.

Eventually.

Under my layers of thousand-dollar threads is ink. The symbol of the brotherhood I pledged my life too, it stretches across my back like a brand. But the boys are true family. They didn’t hold me back. They encourage me to go far. And go far I did; MIT with an MBA from Wharton School of Business in New York City. Then, I finally landed here at Drago International, which is based in Chicago.

I owe the MC for my education. They footed the bill and in return, I helped them launder money when needed. Hell, I even secured the financing for, Sassy’s, the bar Rog and Duke opened after the fire that destroyed it. I am instrumental in securing the club’s financial future.

And when Rog bought hundreds of acres in the deep woods of southern Oregon, I made sure The Springdale Chapter of Creed, gave back to the community by allowing a non-for-profit charity to use it as a kids camp for a few weeks every summer. It’s one hell of a tax write off for the club and helps its image.

I miss all those fuckers. Maybe, I tried too hard to forget who I was? Hell, who part of me will always be a badass biker from an old-logging town, raised on the wrong side of the tracks. No matter how far I run, or how hard I try to change my image, the eyes in the mirror don’t change. I can’t shed my skin. I foolishly thought, landing a girl like Isabella would be the finishing move on the imaginary chessboard in my head.

“You’re quiet …”

“I have a lot on my mind,” I reply while opening the door to the restaurant. Icy air hits my face. But I’m used to it after seven winters in Chicago. Isabella snuggles into my side, curling an arm through mine. “Christmas is so romantic, isn’t it, darling?” She stops, turning her face up to me.

I hate it when she calls me darling.

“No. I hate Christmas. I never had presents from Santa…family or any of that shit.”

“You know I hate it when you talk about your past …”

“Isabella. My past has made me who I am. I’m done running from it.”

“Just don’t advertise it. Mummy and Daddy think your parents died in a diving accident in the Caribbean.”

“Why in the hell would you tell them that?”

“They were asking questions. Naturally, they wanted to know about the man their daughter’s been seeing for months. I could hardly tell them the truth; that you were gutter trash who ran with an MC and lied on your college applications.” She bats her false mink eyelashes.

Scheming bitch.

She’s threatening to use our pillow talk against me; letting me know she remembers the dirty details of my past that I confided in her early on. When I thought her tight pussy was a pot of gold. She fooled me…let me believe she was a hot little piece beneath her layers of groomed perfection. She used to suck me off, let me fuck her in the back of cars and in elevators. My seed would leak down her legs as we rose higher and higher in the lift. The hot sex only lasted three months before she started complaining.

“Why are you with me then? If I’m so below you?”

“Because I love being below you. You fuck like a God—have a dick as big as your bank account and a body of a prize fighter instead of a CEO.”

“Good. This should be painless then. It seems we were both using each other…but I’m done. I have been for a long time.”

She pales. Her expertly made-up eyes go wide. “You can’t! You wouldn’t. I’ll go public about your past. I’ll phone every gossip columnist in the city. I will not be single on the holidays. I already RSVP’d to the New Year’s Eve and the Christmas Ball. You can’t do this to me!” Her voice gets higher and higher. Her eyes are wide. Fuck. She’s in full freak-out mode. But Isabella has secrets too.

“Go ahead. It will make you look exactly as you are—a desperate, dumped woman who pathetically tries to strike back. Did you forget I know your secrets as well? You gave up a child. A child who is out there–somewhere, wondering just who in the hell you are? But you know what? Maybe they are better off not knowing. Maybe giving them the hope that you are a woman with a soul instead of a calculating whore dressed in designer clothes—”

Her leather gloved hand smacks across my face. It stings. But I smirk lifting a hand to my cheek. “Well, hell, sugar. What do you know? There is fire in you after all? If only you showed it sooner, maybe I’d fuck you “like a god” tonight. Goodbye, Isabella. Don’t contact me again.” I unlink my arm from hers, but her blood-red nails refuse to loosen their grip on my navy pea coat forcing me to use my other free hand to pry them loose.

“That’s it? You’re dumping me here? Literally, out in the cold?”

“No. I ordered you an Uber. It’ll be here any second. Goodbye, Isabella. I’ve already packed up your clothes and toiletries from my condo. They’ll be delivered by courier in the morning.”

“Asshole,” she breathes, her angry breath coming out in pants of hot steam as it meets the frigid air.

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