“So it’ll only be a few days,” she continued. “And I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise not to become a prospect, although I did convince Hansen to let me if I change my mind.”
I grinned again. “I bet you did,” I muttered then I looked up at Swiss. “She’ll be okay there?”
“She will,” he grunted. “Safest place for her.”
Thinking on it, forgetting about the parties with strippers and copious amounts of booze, I had to agree with him. The biker clubhouse had been the safest place for me… my entire life. Until this house.
“Do I get to see the home you’ve bought for us without consulting me?” I asked snippily. Or at least, I tried to be snippy. The concept of my fiancé buying a house without my input was something Preston had and did do. But this was different.
This was Swiss.
And I trusted him utterly and completely. If I was honest with myself, I did not want to go through the rigmarole of open houses, inspections, figuring out if I liked a place... Because my home was in this kitchen. Not the walls, the roof or the floor. But the two people I was with.
Everything else was extra.
“Nope,” he replied happily, his eyes twinkling as he regarded me. “Gonna fight me on that, Countess?”
Desire assaulted me in a way it shouldn’t with my daughter in the vicinity. Yeah, maybe it was a good thing she was moving to the club. “No,” I answered quickly. “No, I’m not.”
So that’s how it was decided. My almost nineteen-year-old—her birthday was that weekend, yet she’d somehow convinced me not to throw her a party—would be moving in with outlaw bikers before heading off to college.
And I would be moving into a new house. The one my biker fiancé had picked out for us.
“I was thinking about something,” I said, trailing shapes on Swiss’s pec.
It was late. Very late.
We’d packed Violet’s things into her rental car—well, Swiss had packed her things. He wouldn’t dream of us lifting anything heavier than a purse—then followed her on the motorcycle to the club. I’d settled her into one of the vacant rooms, promising to bring some proper sheets and a comforter the next day.
She, unsurprisingly, had rolled her eyes at that. Though she’d grown up with nice things, she was not spoiled or a snob, something I was delighted to discover. I mean, I’d known that, but I’d never seen her outside the manicured, curated life we’d created for her. And she was thriving in this one already.
Swiss had been in the common room, threatening death and dismemberment to each of his brothers if they tried anything with Violet.
We’d stayed for a drink, and I’d watched Violet interact easily with everyone, playing pool with Colby, Lucas and Elden. She was not self-conscious or intimidated by any of the men, even Elden who was pretty darn intimidating. Although I was hesitant about leaving her there, I knew in my gut that she’d be just fine.
Once Swiss was satisfied that everyone was sufficiently threatened, we said goodbye to Violet—it was much harder than I’d expected considering we were only ten minutes away—and rode back to the house.
Swiss then demonstrated just how much he’d been holding back while Violet had been staying with us.
My wrists burned from the cuffs he’d just taken off, my body thrumming with satisfaction and exertion.
It was a very good thing that Violet was miles away. That the closest house was miles away.
“You’re thinking about somethin’,” Swiss prompted after I’d been silent for a while.
“Yeah, I’ve been, uh… thinking about it for a while.” I was suddenly very nervous. Swiss and I did not have secrets. Not anymore. This wasn’t a secret… exactly. It was a dream. One that I hadn’t told anyone about. One that had steadily grown with my confidence, my feeling of safety, security. With the knowledge that we were making a life together.
Swiss adjusted us so I was facing at him. He’d obviously heard my voice catch, understood that this was serious. And he wasn’t about to let us have a serious conversation without eye contact.
“Continue,” he ordered once my irises were locked with his.
“Well, you know I got an, um, modest sum from the divorce settlement,” I cleared my throat.
He nodded. He knew that because he—or someone in the club—had been the one to set the terms of my divorce settlement.
The sum wasn’t exactly modest, but considering the amount I’d donated, it was less than a quarter of Preston’s money, not counting Violet’s college fund, of course.
It was a specific amount of money, for a specific goal.