Page 61 of Sinner's Storm

I wanted the fucker dead myself, but it was one thing for the club to exact justice. A whole other ball game when it was someone else. Which begged the question, who killed George Stone?

Montana was going to lose his shit. Not that I really think he cared if George lived or died, but the man was still his father. Which also meant when word got out that the old man had died, Montana and his brothers would show up and that was never a good thing. Especially now that the only one who could control all four of the brothers was dead.

“I need to get back to the clubhouse, ‘cause shit is about to hit the fan.”

“I understand,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Malice,” I called, stopping my brother as he stepped into the elevator. “Keep my visitors quiet for now. At least until I can find a way to explain it to Montana.”

“Sure thing, brother,” Malice replied as the doors closed.

Standing there in silence, I hung my head, rubbing my still-throbbing cheek. I couldn’t get Delany’s eyes out of my head.

I broke my promise.

My mind was in chaos, with thoughts and responsibilities pulling me in multiple directions at once. I had a daughter who needed me. A wife who needed my protection. A club that was torn because I’d taken matters into my own hands. Another club that was sure to kill me when they found out I’d married one of their own. A past rumor that was creating havoc for my business and the club’s charities. And, at the heart of it all, was one woman who was oblivious to it all.

An innocent.

For years, I’d kept my life structured.

Family, club, work.

No deviations. The lack of order and coherence in my situation made me feel as though I was being smothered, struggling to find clarity amidst the chaos. I was completely unaware of what was going to happen. The future was uncertain, and I had no idea what it had in store for me, but one thing was becoming increasingly evident.

To protect Delany and my daughter, I needed to solidify my marriage. It was the only way. Even though I despised admitting that Montana was right, I comprehended the significance of establishing a strong connection with Delany. To accomplish this, I realized that it was vital for her to solely focus on me, to depend on me, and to trust me above all others.

Although our marriage may have initially been based on convenience, it had evolved far beyond that point. It had become a business arrangement, and that I could wrap my head around.

And the first thing with a business arrangement was to seal the deal.

Seeing Delany close Harlow’s bedroom door, I knew it was now or never.

I’d have to be fucking blind to see that Delany was every man’s wet dream come true.

She was intelligent, fucking sexy as hell, and sweet as pie.

The woman was the complete package.

And I’d done my due diligence. The second I thought there was a possibility I’d fathered Harlow, I looked into Delany. That was just good business. I needed to know the woman, the mother of my child. While her dossier wasn’t as informative as I would have liked, I knew enough. She graduated Sum Cum Laude from NYU before being head-hunted by my company. While working for me, she did stellar work until the fucknut fired her.

That reminded me... Peter Dowell and I were going to have a talk as soon as I got back to the office.

Every single person who had the pleasure of knowing Delany unanimously agreed that she was an exceptional friend, always ready to lend a hand, and the most incredible mother they had ever come across.

As I stood by the doorframe, I observed her actions closely as she leaned down to pick up something from the floor. The jeans she was wearing fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves in all the right places. As I cleared my throat, she quickly spun around, and a frown appeared on her face.

“What do you want?”

Facing me, I took a good look at her. She had on a white button-down blouse that came to her elbows. A hint of cleavage spilled out of her blouse, which made me stare slightly. The fact that I was staring at her and potentially making her uncomfortable did not matter to me at all. She needed to become comfortable with the way I studied her every move.

She was my wife, after all.

Staring a little longer than I should at her perfect tits, I pushed off the wall and stepped into her room. I closed and locked the door behind me.

“Not asking again. What do you want?”

As I leaned against the door, I crossed my legs and arms, fixating my gaze on her, savoring the sight of what was legally mine.