Authors: Fiona Garland
“The Motorcycle Club or the soon to be Fortune 500 company?” he asked, with a cynical laugh. “Don’t bother answering that. Just remember that you’re in charge of both now.”
Uncle Cass examined the old meeting room he and his late brother had once used. There was a bit of clutter on the desk but it was much cleaner than used to be in the old days. The older man headed instinctively to a familiar cabinet.
Dante smiled. “Still a boozehound, huh? There’s still some good stuff in there.”
His uncle pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured a pair of drinks in a pair of shot glasses.
“I’m supposed to be the responsible one now,” Dante protested. However, his mouth felt as dry as a desert. “What the hell? I could use some liquid courage.”
He took the glass and said cheers. Uncle poured himself another and said. “I can tell you’re falling for the girl. Same thing happened to your father and mother. That’s the downside to this plan. You do too good of a job and end up head over heels in love with her.”
There was no point in denying it. “Lucia told me to keep my distance. She said it’ll make things less complicated.”
“Like I said, you’re the boss,” he reiterated, drinking down another glass of scotch. “You’re the one who gets to call the shots.”
They heard footsteps coming from the next stairs next door. Soon, Lucia entered the room. “There you are! No more drinks for you, Dante. We got a busy schedule today.”
Then, she reached out to redo his tie. Some things never changed. “Thanks, Lucia.”
“Uncle, there’s some Discovery Channel director who wants a tour from an old school member,” his sister said. “Keep it simple.”
“Simple is as simple does,” he said, tapping Dante on the shoulder. “Make sure you take care of your girl. This all depends on her.”
Dante had made plans to have some private time with Trisha later. It would give him some time to give her a private tour of the town. “See you later, Uncle Cass.”
“Things are looking up,” Lucia said, watching their uncle close the door. “The media’s hooked on your romance with the farm girl. They’re going wild over your romantic homecoming to Ironville. There hasn’t been any further talk about your relationship being a fake. We really dodged a bullet.”
“I take it our IPO is clear for takeoff?”
“It’ll be any day now,” she grinned. “I have to admit, I was skeptical about it first but Trisha’s really come through for us. Her idea of using that leak for our own benefit was ingenious. She could be management material at our company. Too bad we’ll end up parting ways.”
Dante took in a deep breath. Thinking of the end of this whole charade was like thinking of his own inevitable death. At least, he could face and accept his own end. On the other hand, he just couldn’t imagine life without Trisha. He hoped they could still be friends after all of the lies they had told together.
“I’m going to spend some time with Trisha tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
Lucia did a double take. “Are you sure? There’s still-”
“It’ll look like the PR team’s writing our schedule instead the two of us,” he said, hoping he sounded authoritative. If nothing else, his logic was sound. “The reason we got into this mess in the first mess is because we’ve been micromanaged too much. We’re here to look natural. So let me do what I signed up to do.”
His sister paused for a moment before speaking. She almost seemed taken back by his show of backbone. “If you change your mind, I could always arrange an interview or a PR event.”
Hearing the door shut close, Dante looked into a nearby mirror. It was in need of a good cleaning but he could make out his reflection.
He looked so fake.
The expensive suit and fancy tie was just not him. He felt like an imposter wearing Dante Alastair’s skin. Worse of all, he was returning to his hometown as a stranger.
The young man almost threw up the alcohol in him. Everything felt wrong. The Dante of yesterday may have been an angry, violent kid but he would never use the woman he loved for the sake of a business. Family came first at the Black Hounds and the woman he loved was as now a part of his family.
He needed to be with Trisha.
Just the two of them.
Trisha smiled when she heard a familiar Irish Jig. It reminded her of the day he proposed to her. “Where did he get this?”
“I can’t pronounce the name of the song but he made someone find it out,” Lucia laughed, eyeing her brother on the other side of the bar. Dante made some small talk with some of the older bartenders. “Are you enjoying yourself at Smokin’ Joes? It used be a rough and tumble place but it’s gotten soft over the years.”
“Beats talking to sunburnt reporters any day of the week!”
Dante had spent the past few days giving a tour of his hometown. They visited his old house which had gone to a close family friend. He even got her to wear a hard hat and visit one of the abandoned iron mines. Dante said they were haunted and home to the ghost of miners who died on the job. Then, he tried to scare her when they were in the deepest part of the mine.
He earned a smack on the head and a scathing glare for that prank.
Unfortunately, they were stalked by members of the media. A few outlets had sent reporters to chronicle the couple’s exploits. Thankfully, it didn’t look like they could handle the hot Ironville weather. After a grueling schedule, she and Dante finally had some free time for themselves.
“We should hang out together more often,” Lucia said out of the blue. “Technically, I’m your sister-in-law.”
Trisha had never thought about it very much. “I guess so.”
A part of her was happy that she had a growing family after losing her parents. That’s when she remembered that it was all an act. The farm girl could do with another drink. “I’m going to see if I can get another Old Fashion.”
Lucia said. “They’ll probably give it to you for free.”
Trisha titled her head in confusion. “You have a tab?”
“They won’t take our money but we pay anyway,” Lucia giggled, a little tipsy from her wine spritzer. “We Black Hounds always pay our debts.”
Trisha walked to the serving station. The bar had a mix of regulars, Black Hound members, and some business partners. None of the last category looked like they could hold onto their drink. Thankfully, the media was banned from the premises. Nevertheless, she still had to be on her guard.
Being Dante’s fiancée made her feel like royalty, especially in Ironville. Strangers would offer a place in their homes. Restaurants refused to take money. The Alastair family must have meant a lot to this small town.
They had certainly been generous to various local charities. It was quite a turnaround from their reputation as a dangerous motorcycle gang. Then again, the Black Hounds were formed from a need to protect the town when the police wouldn’t. Their ties to the community ran deep.
A hand gently gripped her arm. “Care for a dance?”
Trisha found herself staring into Dante’s piercing eyes. He looked much happier now that he was out of a business suit and in his usual leather jacket and faded jeans combo. This was the biker in his natural habitat. “Let’s dance.”
The moved together as one. Neither of them had any outstanding skill in dancing. What they lacked in ability, they made up with natural grace. There was something supernatural about the way they could connect and move.
Each step felt like walking a mile. It seemed like they were leaping over mountains in a single bound. The whole world seemed to disappear.
She wasn’t the owner of a farm trying to keep it afloat. He wasn’t a biker turned CEO juggling his identities. They could just… be.
The pairs of eyes watching them disappeared into the nether. There was no more need to pretend. The love she felt for Dante was real. It was as real as her heart pounding in her chest.
The song changed but they didn’t care. The two were lost in the moment. After a few days of putting out another PR fire, they needed some time to enjoy themselves.
Dante took her face in his hands and kissed her.
She kissed back more out of habit and instinct than anything else. It never got old but she wanted more. Trisha imagined Dante picking her up and taking her to the nearest bedroom. A flat surface would do just fine. The young woman just need the man to make love to her.
That’s when she heard the crowd cheering her. Dante grinned like an idiot. Trisha had smeared lipstick on his face. It made him look like an animal who just had a bloody feast.
Wiping the lipstick off his handsome face, Dante took her hand. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
He led her back to their hotel room. Trisha rode behind him on his motorcycle. It reminded her of their first date. Back then, she had been worried that she’d die on the way on the car show in a fiery accident. This time, the farm girl couldn’t feel safer.
When they reached their hotel room, they found a cheery attendant waiting at their door with a serving tray on an oversized trolley. A pair of champagne bottles were at the side of the tray. This day just got better and better. “What coincidence! Just in time!”
Dante began to take out his wallet to tip the man. “I don’t remember ordering any room service. Who ordered it?”
The man happily pocketed the money and said. “It’s a special order paid for by someone else. I’m afraid I can’t say who sent it since it was an anonymous gift.”
Trisha asked. “Is that common?”
“Come to think of it, we hadn’t had such a request in a long time,” the hotel attendant said, stroking his chin. “But we haven’t had a guest like you in a long time, Mr. Alastair. Bon Appetite!”
After the hotel attendant left, the two brought the trolley inside. Trisha glanced at the tray. She didn’t know what it was but it smelled like old moldy cheese. Perhaps, it was a local delicacy. There would be plenty of time to try it out tonight.
Trisha sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the last few days. Ever since they had come under fire, Dante made sure to protect her from the media. He’d even cut off interviews that didn’t follow rules. She had access to the internet and knew no amount of protection could shield her from the tabloids. Nevertheless, his concern was much appreciated.
The two had finally managed to carve up some time for themselves. Trisha had thought of Dante’s homecoming as a romantic event. Yet, it felt like they were putting out fire after fire for the past few days.
It wasn’t as thought the farm girl hated the press. Some of them were kind and congratulated her for taming the bad boy biker. That didn’t mean she liked perpetually smiling like a Botox patient.
Trisha wondered what her parents would think of her engagement to Dante. Street tough yet kind, the man was someone even her late father could respect. He had usually warded off any potential suitors by offering to show them his varmint gun collection.