Charly Sawyer is a young woman trying to find her place in the world when she meets Dominic Price, her boss and VP of the Iconic Sons MC. Despite her attraction to Dominic, growing up in the foster system has made Charly wary of men and relationships.
After a harrowing attack one night, Charly and her friend Jess seek refuge within the MC’s protective walls. At the clubhouse, she encounters Dominic’s charismatic cousin, Jax, and the air crackles with an undeniable spark.
When the men reveal their interest in her, Charly’s insecurities emerge. Soon, jealousies erupt from her coworkers, including Jess, prompting Charly to set aside her fears. She begins a journey of pleasure and self-discovery with Dom and Jax.
Unfortunately, their relationship is fraught with resentment, betrayal, and sabotage. And when her life is threatened, Charly’s only option is to escape.
Charly Sawyer is a young woman trying to find her place in the world when she meets Dominic Price, her boss and VP of the Iconic Sons MC. Despite her attraction to Dominic, growing up in the foster system has made Charly wary of men and relationships.
After a harrowing attack one night, Charly and her friend Jess seek refuge within the MC’s protective walls. At the clubhouse, she encounters Dominic’s charismatic cousin, Jax, and the air crackles with an undeniable spark.
When the men reveal their interest in her, Charly’s insecurities emerge. Soon, jealousies erupt from her coworkers, including Jess, prompting Charly to set aside her fears. She begins a journey of pleasure and self-discovery with Dom and Jax.
Unfortunately, their relationship is fraught with resentment, betrayal, and sabotage. And when her life is threatened, Charly’s only option is to escape.
P R O L O G U E
“Would you shut the fucking kid up?” Peter roared from the lounge room.
At eleven years old, Charly, barely able to reach over the top of the crib, quickly lifted the crying baby out of his cot, hugging him close and pressing a light kiss on his tear-stained cheek. He was probably hungry. She sure was. Her stomach rumbled and cramped. Mama had gone out to the store, but that was a couple of hours ago.
Not that she’d be much help even if she were here.
“Hey, hey,” Charly whispered to her baby brother, ten-month-old Fabien. His face was blotchy red, and dirty tear marks ran down his cheeks.
Charly sniffed. Fabe needed to be changed, too. “It’s okay, Fabe. I’m here,” she murmured, bouncing him up and down. It wasn’t okay, though, and Charly wasn’t sure how to make it all right.
“Where the fuck is that bitch?” her stepdad yelled, too lazy to get out of his recliner to look for Charly’s mom.
That could work to Charly's advantage.
Peter was drunk. Surprise, surprise. It would have been more of a shock if he’d been sober. Unfortunately, he was an angry drunk, one of those people everyone in town knew to steer clear of when he’d been drinking.
Charly and Fabien didn’t have that luxury.
Usually.
If he stayed in his recliner and didn’t come looking for her mom or them, then maybe, just maybe, Charly could get them out the back door and over to the neighbors. If Mrs. McNally were home, she’d let them in. She always did. Charly tried not to go there too often. She didn’t want to overstep and end up with nowhere to go, but it seemed like Peter was having more and more of his episodes. This would be the second time Charly had run from the house this week with Fabien in her arms.
Wrapping Fabien up in a blanket, Charly tiptoed out the back door, holding her brother’s head to her chest in a protective grip, trying to muffle the sound of his snuffling against her skinny little chest. He was getting so big. His legs dangled down nearly to her knees. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could carry him around.
Charly shivered, even with Fabe’s warm weight against her. She didn’t dare go to her room to get shoes or a coat, but it wasn’t far to Mrs. McNally’s.
“Charly!” Peter yelled.
That was it. They had to go now. Charly had been on the receiving end of Peter’s fury before and had the bruises to prove it. She probably had a few broken bones, too. There was a spot on her ribs where Peter had kicked her that still hurt if she took a deep breath. Despite her pain, Mama never took her to a doctor. If she did, Peter would beat her up, and then both of them would be hurt. Being injured meant being stuck in the house and possibly getting knocked about again.
It was a cycle Charly tried to avoid.
Charly wasn’t allowed to go to school if she had any visible injuries in case some nosy teacher reported her bruises. That was the worst. Charly loved being at school. School was safe. It was the only safe place she knew of, other than at her neighbor’s, where no one would hurt her, and someone would ensure she had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear.
But no one was at home to protect Fabien if Charly was at school. Mama was no better at safeguarding Fabien than keeping Charly safe.
Sometimes, it felt like she couldn’t win.
“Charly! Where the hell are you?” Peter bellowed from inside the house.
Charly ran. She scampered up the steps to Mrs. McNally’s door and knocked, hoping it was loud enough for Mrs. McNally to hear but not so loud that Peter would.
The door opened, and she was there as if she’d been waiting. “Charly, come in, dear.” Mrs. McNally ushered her and Fabien inside.
She wore a blue sweatshirt with a picture of a bird embroidered on it, jeans, and fuzzy slippers on her feet. Her hair was a fluffy white puff. Charly had no idea how old she was. Peter referred to her as the old bat, but Mrs. McNally still went to work a few days each week. She couldn’t be that old.
Charly slipped inside, sighing with relief at the warmth. She heard the lock click as Mrs. McNally locked the door behind her. She’d made it. They were safe. This time. She wouldn’t think about the next time yet.
Charly looked around at the spick-and-span room, with shelves displaying an assortment of knick-knacks. Most were mementos from trips Mrs. McNally had taken with her husband before he’d died. Sometimes, she’d tell Charly stories about the different little trinkets, the café they’d found, or the little town having a parade for something silly. Charly loved the idea of people going places together and not fighting. In the background, soft, twinkly music was playing on the radio. Mrs. McNally always had the radio playing whenever she came over. Charly loved listening to music. It was way better than the shouting, screaming, and blaring of the television at all hours of the day and night, which were the background sounds of her home.
Mrs. McNally took Fabien from her arms and told Charly to sit at the kitchen table. With Fabien balanced on her hip, Mrs. McNally went to the fridge and retrieved a jug of juice, pouring it into a glass. As she replaced the jug, she grabbed a bottle for Fabien. Charly wasn’t sure when Mrs. McNally had started keeping bottles and diapers in her house for their “visits,” as she called them. She was relieved she didn’t have to gather any supplies before getting them out of the house.
Charly watched as she took out a pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. Mrs. McNally then placed the bottle in the pot. Next, she entered the pantry and pulled out a container of homemade cookies. Charly’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the chocolate cookies. It had been a while since she’d last eaten anything.
Mrs. McNally smiled at Charly as she placed the plate of cookies in front of her. “Eat up, dear.”
She returned to the stove, tested the temperature of the milk, and then sat at the table opposite Charly. Fabien greedily sucked on the bottle as Mrs. McNally gently rocked him.
Charly paused between cookies. “Thank you, Mrs. McNally.”
“That’s okay, Charly. You know you and Fabien are welcome anytime.”
Charly’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She wished she and Fabien could stay here forever, but sooner or later, she had to return home; otherwise, Peter would storm over here screaming blue murder and causing damage to the house. Last time, he’d shattered the front window because Charly refused to go back home with him. Maybe this time, he’d fall asleep before looking for them over here, or perhaps he’d just be too lazy to get out of the recliner.
A loud bang made all three of them jump. Fabien began to whimper. The door rattled as someone tried to open it.
“Bitch!” Peter yelled from the other side of the door. “Open up, or I’ll bust your door in, you old hag!”
Fabien started crying, and Charly’s whole body trembled. It hadn’t taken Peter long to come looking for them. He sounded furious. Charly swallowed hard. She looked up at Mrs. McNally, unsure what to say or do. They couldn’t open the door. The beating she would get would be monumental. But it would be worse if they didn’t open the door when she finally went home.
She wished she didn’t have to go home.
“Stay there, Charly. I’m calling the police.” Mrs. McNally got up to get the phone, depositing Fabien in Charly’s lap.
The banging continued with each blow against the door, louder and more demanding than the last. Charly held Fabien closer and tried to cover his ears, but it didn’t help. He began crying in earnest, big, gulping sobs that shook his whole body. The cookies lodged in the pit of Charly’s stomach as her anxiety rose. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.
Mrs. McNally returned to the kitchen, still on the phone with the emergency dispatch operator. She put a hand on Charly’s shoulder, and Charly leaned against her.
Finally, she heard the whoop-whoop of the police siren.
“Peter,” a male voice said outside. “What’s going on?”
It didn’t surprise Charly that the police officer knew her stepfather’s name. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d been called to the house or the first time Peter had dealings with the police.
“Stupid bitch won’t open the door.” The door rattled as Peter kicked it.
“It might help if you asked a bit more politely.” The officer’s voice was even and calm. Maybe this wouldn’t get any worse. Perhaps the police officer would get Peter to go back home, and Charly and Fabien could stay here until he sobered up.
“My damn kids are in there. I want them to come home. It’s my right. Make her open the door.”
“How about we go to the station and discuss who has what rights?” The officer’s voice was getting closer to the door.
“Screw you!” Peter screamed.
She heard a fist hitting flesh, a sound she was familiar with. Then, men were yelling, thumps, and nothing but Peter swearing.
There was a polite knock on the door. “Mrs. McNally? It’s okay. You can open the door now.”
Mrs. McNally unlocked the door and cracked it open. Charly peered around her. Peter was face down on the lawn, hands cuffed behind his back. “Thank you, officer.”
The officer was someone Charly thought she’d seen before. "Are the kids here?”
Mrs. McNally nodded and opened the door wider so he could see in.
“Do you know where the mother is?” the officer asked.
Mrs. McNally looked over to Charly. "She, uh, went shopping.”
“How long ago was that?”
Charly bit her lip as she thought. "A few hours ago.”
The officer nodded and then looked back over to Mrs. McNally. “Can they stay here for a bit? Or do I need to call someone?”
Charly knew who someone was. Foster care. They’d separate her and Fabien, for sure. She wrapped her arms more tightly around her little brother and held her breath, waiting for Mrs. McNally’s answer.
“Of course. We’ll be just fine here now.” Mrs. McNally smiled over at Charly.
Charly slumped into her chair with relief. They were safe, at least for a few days. Maybe all those wishes amounted to something.
O N E
“Jess!” boomed Con from the kitchen. “Can you take the rubbish out?”
Charly glanced at her coworker at the Brothers in Arms Bar and Grill. Jess exhaled, squared her shoulders, and headed towards the kitchen, rubbing absently at her left wrist.
Charly cut her off before she got to the swinging doors. “I’ll get it.”
Jess had been keeping the sleeve of her shirt pulled down over her wrist all day, but Charly had glimpsed the deep purple bruise. She was pretty sure she knew how Jess had gotten it, too. She’d had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting Jess’s boyfriend, Sol. Charly knew his type all too well.
Jess stopped. “You don’t mind?” She cringed a little as if she thought Charly would hit her, too.
“Nah. It’ll give me a chance to get some fresh air.” Charly entered the kitchen and grabbed the trash bag. Well, she tried to. The damn thing weighed a ton. She stumbled on her first attempt to lift the heavy bag.
She stepped back, hands on her hips. “Jesus, Con! What have you got in here? A dead body?” The room was like a sauna—well, maybe more like a steam room—with the moist heat from the dishwasher mingling with the heat from the grill and the deep fryer. It smelled like heaven.
Con didn’t even look away from where he was pulling clean pots and pans from the drying racks. “Stop whinging, kid.” His voice was like gravel—rough, low, and gritty. He looked rough, too, with his tattoo-scribbled body, gray hair standing on end, and a face weathered by wind and sun.
It didn’t fool Charly. She was well aware of what violent men— abusive men—were like, and Con wasn’t one of them. She’d seen the teddy bear beneath the gruff exterior. She’d also had his beer-battered chips and the gravy he made from his grandmother’s secret recipe, which he said he’d take to his grave. The man could cook. That was for sure.
“Why’d you ask Jess? Isn’t it Maxine’s turn?” Maxine seemed to always wiggle out of unpleasant chores like taking out the garbage, and no one ever seemed to notice.
Con turned towards Charly, one graying eyebrow raised. “You still whinging?”
“And I’ll keep on whinging till I get an answer.” Charly tried to sound serious but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Talking to Con always put her in a good mood.
“Because I say so. That’s why.” The fifty-something continued to bang the pots and pans as he put them away.
“See? Now, how hard was that?” Charly laughed as she half-lifted and half-dragged the heavy bag through the kitchen and into the connecting staffroom. Noticing that the outside light was on, she didn’t bother to switch on the staffroom light, as the glow from outside illuminated it enough for her to find her way to the door.
She took three more steps into the room and froze. Someone outside the door was moaning. Loudly. For a second, she thought someone was in pain, and then it became clear that they were moans of pleasure. Someone was having a very good time, from the sounds of it.
She knew she should turn right back around, but curiosity got the best of her. Carefully, Charly twisted the door handle, grimacing as it made a soft clicking sound, and peered through the screen.
“Damn,” she whispered.
A dark-haired woman, jeans down around her ankles, was bent over the picnic table. Charly couldn’t see her face, but the tattoo of a heart with a knife through it on her right hip was visible. The man pounding into her from behind was unmistakably Charly’s boss, Dominic Price. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders that tapered down to narrow hips or the long, dirty blond hair braided across the crown of his head and down his back. She couldn’t see it now, but Charly knew the sides had a number two buzz cut with a zigzag design carved on each side. It was a one-of-a-kind mohawk, and it suited him. Well.
As Charly watched, Dom twisted the woman’s long, dark hair around one fist and pulled. With the other hand, he gave her ass a hard smack. The woman moaned louder. “Yes, Dom. Yes. Harder.”
Charly swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.
Dom obliged, letting go of the woman’s hair to grasp her hips, keeping her in place as he thrust harder and faster. The woman rocked back into him, rising onto her toes and arching her back as her body trembled, and she cried out in release.
Charly’s mouth might have gone dry, but other places were getting wet as she imagined what it would be like to be that woman. A steady throb started between her legs, nearly matching the pounding of her heart.
Dom let out a low growl, and his body stiffened. Then he stepped back, pulled his jeans onto his hips, zipped up, and refastened his belt.
Charly quietly shut the door but lurked around to eavesdrop, trying to get her breathing back to normal. She was panting as if she’d run a mile.
“Okay, babe. Thanks for that,” Dominic said.
“Let’s go back to the clubhouse, honey. I can show you what else I can do with my mouth,” the woman said, her voice honeyed and low.
“No. Just go out the side gate. I don’t want my staff to see you.” Dom was all business. He’d gotten what he wanted and what he needed. He was done. It didn’t mean anything more to him than that.
“Really? That’s all I get?” the woman wailed, looking at Dom incredulously.
Charly nearly snorted. Why did women always get upset when Dom dismissed them? What on earth did they expect? Why did they think they were different from all the other women who were in and out of Dom’s bed? What made them believe they were special? Nobody could tame a man like Dominic. But did that deter women from crawling into bed with him? Or, in this case, bending over the picnic table for him? Absolutely not. It seemed to make them more eager to spread their legs for him.
“I told you I only had time for a quickie. I’m busy,” Dom said brusquely.
Typical Dom. Brutally blunt. Damn. He’d be coming back this way any second. Charly’s face flushed, realizing he would know she’d been listening if she didn’t move. She had to leave, return to the kitchen, and take the enormous trash bag.
With all the strength she could muster—strength she didn’t know she had—Charly picked up the trash bag and shuffled back into the kitchen. She’d barely made it back when she heard the wire door slam shut as her boss appeared, looking for all the world like he’d done nothing more than go for an evening stroll.
She turned around to make it look like she was heading into the staffroom with the giant trash bag.
“Fuck, Charls. Give me that bag. It’s almost bigger than you.” Dominic moved Charly aside and lifted the bag as if it weighed nothing, his biceps flexing beneath his shirt. “Hey, Con! Why’d you tell Charls to take the trash out? The bag weighs nearly as much as her.”
“I didn’t ask Mighty Mouse over there to do it. I asked Jess.” Con appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the staffroom. “Charly just appeared like magic.
Charly whirled around. What had Con called her? “Mighty Mouse?”
Dom chuckled. “Tiny but mighty. It fits.”
Charly reached for the bag. “I am capable of taking the rubbish out, boss.”
Dom danced back a step, remarkably light on his feet for such a big man, and then he was out the door with the bag as if it held nothing but feathers. She was talking to the air. There was no point in protesting. Charly shook her head and went into the dining area to help Jess wipe down the tables, grabbing a damp cloth as she went.
Jess had worked at the Brothers in Arms Bar and Grill for two years, taking Charly under her wing when she first started. It was a good thing, too. There were many unwritten rules that Charly could easily have fallen foul of without Jess’s guidance.
Little by little, Charly had picked up a few “rules” of the club. Firstly, she wasn’t allowed to call them a gang. Jess had explained that this pissed the “brothers” off. They were a club, a family. Secondly, they often referred to each other as “bro” or “brother,” although most were not blood related.
Over time, Charly had met several regular members at the bar and grill and knew them well enough to get the occasional chin nod as they passed. She’d nod or wave back, and this usually earned a half-smile. Words weren’t necessary for them.
Another rule was no backtalk. Jess explained that it was a sign of disrespect towards the brothers and could have serious consequences, including being fired. Charly didn’t get this one because she often heard Maxine backchat Rocky and Dominic. Although they got pissed off when she argued with them, she was still here. Charly herself had stood her ground on a couple of occasions. Despite a firm verbal warning from Dominic, she still had a job.
“Hey, girl,” Jess greeted her. Jess was a few inches taller than Charly, with a mop of strawberry blonde hair and a spray of freckles across her pert nose. She was curvier than Charly, too. Something that the close-fitting top and jeans she wore made readily apparent.
Charly shifted the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holders out of the way on a table to give it a proper wipe-down. “Hey, yourself.”
“You okay?” Jess had stopped what she was doing to look at her.
Charly glanced over at her. “Great. Why?”
Jess shrugged and went back to her work. “You look a little flushed, that’s all.”
“Oh, uh, I was in the kitchen. It’s hot as hell in there.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the real reason her cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t like she was going to tell Jess about watching Dom and whoever that woman was have sex in the back of the restaurant. She certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone about her secret fantasy. It was embarrassing enough that she’d eavesdropped on them. Her heart was still racing, remembering the salacious scene in the courtyard.
She sighed and went back to wiping down the table. It wasn’t like she had a shot at being with Dom. It was obvious that her boss had a type: tall, beautiful women with long, dark hair. Charly had long, dark hair, but at five feet four, she was too short. Besides, Charly’s experiences with relationships and men were practically non-existent. Her only sexual encounter didn’t count. It had been forgettable at best, leaving her wondering what the big deal was about and not wanting to find out. She didn’t have the know-how that the women who serviced Dom had. She wouldn’t know what to do if she ever did have a chance.
It’s too bad that something about Dominic had intrigued her from the moment she first met him at her interview two months ago. Charly had trembled as she sat across from him in his office. She’d struggled to raise her voice above a whisper.
“Do I make you nervous?” Dominic chuckled.
She folded her hands in her lap to prevent fidgeting. “Yes. You’re intimidating.”
A slow smile spread across his handsome face. “Good.”
She stiffened. She’d been around aggressive types before— men who blustered and threatened. Fearing someone isn’t the same as respecting them. Dom hadn’t seemed like that type. She was more set back by his size and the energy that seemed to roll off him in waves. You never knew, however. Some men could turn on a dime. “I’m not sure I want to work for someone who likes intimidating his employees.” Charly felt her face heat up. She’d accused her potential employer of being a bully. What the heck had gotten into her? She needed this job.
The smile stayed on his face, but he leaned forward on his desk, and Charly was all too aware of the muscles in his arms. “You have a mouth on you. I’m not sure I want to hire a loudmouth.”
“Then I guess we’re even.” Shut up, Charly! If she didn’t stop now, she’d be back on the unemployment line. Dragging in a deep breath, she tried again. “Forget that, will you? How about we start again?”
“I don’t know why I should bother.” Dominic reclined in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, looking satisfied.
Smug bastard. Charly gritted her teeth in annoyance, but she reminded herself what her goals were here. She needed a job. “I’m a hard worker, a quick learner, and reliable. I’ve had experience in the hospitality industry.”
“Yeah, I guess working at McDonald’s for two months prepared you for dining service.” The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.
“Are you mocking my job at McDonald’s?” She sat up a little straighter. An honest day’s work is an honest day’s work and should be respected. She surveyed his desk to see what she could throw at him besides his laptop. She didn’t think a pen could do much damage. It’d probably bounce right off that hard chest of his.
“Not at all. You’re the one pushing your experience in the hospitality industry.” He looked back down at her application.
“You’ve had many jobs in the past five years: dog walker, babysitter, and pizza delivery driver. You even had a short stint at the post office. You don’t have a history of longevity in one place. I want someone who’s going to stick around.”
He was right. Charly was used to moving around. Most of her childhood had been spent bouncing around in different foster homes. It had gotten to be a habit. She was always looking for something new and different to motivate her, searching for a place where she could settle down. One day, she’d find that place that felt like home-where she fit in and felt safe. Charly was tired of moving around all the time. She didn’t know if it would be this place, but she’d never find out if she didn’t convince Dom to hire her.
“All that experience means I can work anywhere. Put me in any restaurant section, and you’ll see how well I fit in.” Charly grasped at straws. She needed this job, or she would end up homeless.
“I’m still worried about that mouth of yours.”
Her lips tingled as his eyes zoomed in on her mouth. She resisted the urge to lick them. “I thought we were working with a clean slate here.”
“Can’t ignore facts.”
“What facts?” Charly’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“The fact that you don’t have a filter for that headstrong mind of yours.” Dominic’s eyes gleamed with unrestrained humor. He was making fun of her.
Fine. He could mock her all he liked as long as he didn’t dismiss her. “I thought you might appreciate honesty. That’s another one of my strengths.”
“Honesty’s all good, Charls. However, I need someone who can keep their opinions to themselves when dealing with difficult customers.” His smug smile had left his face. He wasn’t joking anymore. He meant what he was saying.
Charly couldn’t argue with his point, but she felt like objecting to the nickname he'd bestowed on her. She bit her tongue. Try not to be a loudmouth.
“I can keep my opinions to myself.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Are you sure, Charls?” Dominic didn’t look convinced.
“I haven’t said anything about that nickname, have I?”
Dominic studied her tightly closed lips and grinned. “A tiny step in the right direction, I guess.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Does that mean I have the job?”
Dominic threw his head back and burst out laughing at her forthright question. The sound carried to her chest, and something strange settled there. “Yes, Charly. You have the job.”
A high-pitched whistle cut through her reverie, and her eyes whirled toward the bar. She spotted Dominic motioning her over. Damn, she’d been caught daydreaming. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been wiping down the same spot on the table before her, but it was more than clean.
“Charly! Dom’s calling you.” Jess nudged her.
“So, he has to whistle at me like a dog?” she mumbled, earning her a bit of a side-eye from Jess.
“My office. Now!” His brusque command got Charly’s back up, but she swallowed her irritation and followed him.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Jess said in a singsong voice as Charly approached Dominic’s office.
“You’re jealous.” Charly turned around and poked her tongue out in jest.
“Too right! I wish it were me who was in trouble with him. I’d love to get a spanking from the boss.” Her friend sighed wistfully.
Charly thought about the way Dom had smacked that woman’s ass while he’d slid in and out of her and the way the woman had moaned. Her face heated up again, and that little throb between her legs beat a little harder.
She wasn’t alone. All the female employees had crushes on Dominic. It wasn’t just his looks, although those didn’t hurt. There was something about him—something primal and charismatic. It was like all the hairs on Charly’s arms stood on end every time the man walked into a room.
Their other boss, Rocky, was also easy on the eyes but not as magnetic. Despite his name, Rocky’s laid-back nature was no match for Dominic’s hard-as-nails reputation.
Both men belonged to the Iconic Sons Motorcycle Club. When Charly learned that her bosses were bikers, she’d contemplated bolting, not wanting anything to do with criminals. Her need to pay the rent, plus Jess’s plea that Dominic and Rocky were good guys, convinced her to stay. Besides, she liked her coworkers—well, most of them. She reluctantly tolerated Maxine. The woman was always on her case about something.
Entering Dom’s office, Charly sat in the only chair across the desk from Dom while he finished texting someone. When he put his phone down, he raised an eyebrow.
“What’s that look for?” Charly frowned.
“You don’t know?” he asked.
Charly took a second to review everything she’d done during her last couple of shifts. She wasn’t perfect. Who was? But she couldn’t come up with anything that would have Dom summoning her to his office like a naughty schoolchild.
“I’ve had another complaint about you from Maxine.” He cocked his head to one side, watching her and waiting for a response.
Of course. Charly blew out a frustrated breath. “What have I supposedly done now?”
“She says you’ve been flirting with the customers and pocketing their numbers.” His fingers drummed on his desk, and he looked at her through narrowed eyes.
This wasn’t good. Dominic had a strict “no fraternizing” policy for staff and customers, and he meant it, too. He’d recently fired two employees—Peggy Stanley and Terrence Brooks—whom Con had walked in on in the pantry. Peggy had been riding Terrence like he was a hog she was taking on a test drive while cans of tomatoes and beans rolled around them on the floor. They’d been out the door, pink slips in hand, before they could even zip up their jeans.
Charly hadn’t been the one doing the nasty in the pantry. Nor was she the one who was continuously dropping the pen she was using to take orders and bending over very slowly to pick it off the floor, or the one who batted her eyelids at customers and leaned over tables low enough to give guys a good look at her cleavage.
That would be Maxine herself. Somehow, Dominic never seemed to notice that, though. Charly’s sense of injustice ratcheted up a notch.
“Is Maxine talking about herself or me?” she asked.
Dominic’s lips twitched at Charly’s cynical remark. “Probably herself.”
Charly threw her hands in the air. “Then what’s the issue? Why call me in front of God and everybody when you know she’s making this stuff up?”
He shrugged. “Any complaints I receive, I have to address.”
“You know I’m professional at all times. I don’t even know why we’re discussing this. Maxine is always complaining about me. There’s my complaint, by the way.” Let’s see him address that one.
Getting up, Dominic rounded his desk to perch on the edge. “Do you know why Maxine’s always complaining about you?”
Charly looked at him and said, “I wish I did.” The woman had taken an instant dislike to Charly, and nothing Charly did or said seemed to change that.
Dom snorted. “She’s jealous.”
“Jealous? Of me?” Charly shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe that. What for? Being the one Con calls Mighty Mouse? Maxine’s just a drama queen.”
Dominic smiled. Oh, wow. His face went from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous in that moment. Butterflies fluttered wildly inside Charly’s chest and lower. “Of course, you’d see it that way,” he said.
Whatever that meant. “Are we done? Or do you need to lecture me more about my improper behavior and slap me on the wrist?”
“I could put you over my knee if you like.” The smile turned wolfish, and damn if Charly didn’t find him even more attractive.
Despite her best effort at resistance, the thought of Dominic bending her over his muscular thighs and slapping her bottom with those strong hands made Charly’s stomach clench. She could imagine the way the cold air in the office would feel on her bare ass. The slight scrape of his rough, calloused hand against her skin. Her nipples hardened, and that added to the fantasy that was building in her mind. Maybe he’d slip his hand inside her shirt. Or pause between strikes against her cheeks to slip a finger between her legs. She bit her lip and then said, “Maybe I need to lecture you about improper behavior at work.”
“Maybe you do.” His answering grin made her toes curl.
She needed to get out of the office quickly before she threw herself at him. She got up to leave.
“Hang on, Charls.” Dominic held up his hand. “Don’t forget that we’re having a barbecue at the lodge this Sunday.”
The lodge was Dominic’s holiday home by the lake in the countryside. Once a month, all the employees attended a big gathering with their families. Last time, Charly had skipped the event, thinking it was optional, but she’d been wrong. Dominic had firmly told her that she was expected to be a part of the gathering and not to let him down again—one more of those unwritten rules.
Charly rolled her eyes. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”
The sudden steel in his look set off Charly’s warning bells. His body became motionless, like a panther, ready to pounce. “Did you roll your eyes at me?”
“No,” she lied, trying to keep her voice steady.
He took a step towards her, narrowing the gap between them. He tilted her chin so she could look directly into those steel-gray eyes. “Must’ve been mistaken then.” His voice remained deadpan.
She studied Dominic’s face. His relaxed demeanor didn’t fool her. There had been a veiled warning in his words. Her heart picked up pace, but it wasn’t from fear. The feel of his hand was warm and gentle on her chin. The smell of whisky and leather emanated from him. His heat. Altogether, it nearly made her dizzy.
“I can pick you up if you like.” He stepped back and became his charming self again. Charly wondered whether she’d imagined the whole thing.
“That’s okay. Jess has already offered to go with me. Thanks anyway.” Jess had felt bad that she hadn’t given Charly the heads-up about the mandatory barbecue and offered to help her get ready and give her a ride this Sunday.
Dominic gave her a brief nod of acquiescence. “Make sure you turn up, Charls, or I’ll come and get you myself.”
“Got it, boss.” It took everything Charly had to turn her back on him and walk out of the office. As it was, she felt the heat of his gaze traveling up and down her as she walked away.
“Charly,” he called right before she reached the door.
She turned, keeping her eyes directly ahead. “Yes, boss?” she asked softly.
“Why did you insist on taking the garbage out if Con asked Jess to do it?” His head was cocked just a little to one side.
She hesitated, but she didn’t think the truth could hurt. “Jess’s wrist hurts her, and she doesn’t want anyone to know. She keeps pulling her sleeve down over it. I figured I’d take the garbage out so she wouldn’t have to choose between hurting herself more or telling people something she wanted to keep to herself.”
“Did she ask you to do that?” Dom raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.
Charly tried not to stare at the way his biceps bulged. “No. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
He nodded his dismissal, and she got out of the office as quickly as she could without running.
She returned to the table she’d been cleaning when summoned and had barely finished wiping it off when Jess was at her side. She had a broom to sweep the floor beneath the tables, even though it was already clean. “Come on, birdie. Tell all. What’s the hot goss?”
It wasn’t exactly hot, in Charly’s opinion. “Maxine’s made another complaint against me.”
Jess made a face and pulled out a chair to get a better angle for sweeping. “Oh, for goodness sake! What was it this time?”
“I’ve been flirting with the customers and getting their numbers.” As if.
Jess scoffed. “You? You wouldn’t know how to flirt even if you tried.”
Ouch. Not exactly a compliment. “Thanks, tons!” Charly frowned at her friend.
Jess waved her comment away. “Oh, you know what I mean. Flirting is something that Max does. Not you.”
Ha! Charly wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that, then. Talk about the pot and the kettle. “I don’t think the boss believed her, either." She paused, reflecting. So why had he called her in there?
Jess stopped for a second to lean on her broom. “Dom’s way too intelligent to fall for Maxine’s crap,” she sighed.
Charly could practically see the stars in Jess’s eyes. “Your infatuation is showing,” she laughed.
Jess snorted. “Name one female in this place who isn’t infatuated with Dom.”
“Me,” Charly replied with a straight face, knowing she wasn’t exactly telling the truth. She prayed that Jess couldn’t smell the white lie.
“Besides you. Name one.”
Charly gave up. Arguing with Jess was pointless because she knew her friend was right. It was impossible to deny the allure of a self-assured man like Dominic.
*****
Dom smiled as he watched Charly go out the door. He’d known Maxine was stirring up trouble, something she was a little too good at, in his opinion. That was a problem for another day. He hadn’t been able to resist having an excuse to have Charly alone in his office with him or to have her a little off-guard.
She intrigued him. She was a fascinating combination of sass, spirit, and sweetness. None of the women who worked at the bar and grill or the strip club the MC also owned and operated did much because they thought it was the right thing to do. To them, the right thing was what would get them what they wanted, whether it be more money, more attention, or more power.
Stepping in to do someone else’s chore because that person might be hurt? Not in their wheelhouses.
He liked her softness, too. Her rounded bottom and ample chest had his fingers itching to trace those curves. He’d gotten a little peek at what that might be like when he’d lifted her chin. The little gasp that had escaped her had his cock getting hard inside his pants, even though he’d just ridden Kyra hard out in the courtyard.
He’d made many women moan and cry out, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten that sharp, surprised intake of breath. Most of the women he used to satisfy his appetites were experienced enough that nothing surprised them. He’d thought that was a good thing. He’d thought he liked having women who knew how to please him and how to be pleased by him.
Maybe he’d have to give that some more thought.
With the family she grew up with no longer in her life, Charly faces the world alone. Having moved from one place to another in the foster care system, she continues to move from job to job in her adulthood. But, she has been at the Brothers in Arms Bar and Grill that is owned by Iconic Sons Motorcycle Club for a couple of months. Through her engagements with one of her bosses, Dominic “Dom” Price, and the family he comes with, she begins to think that she might finally not have to face the world alone. Resilient: She Will Not be Defeated is the first of the Iconic Sons MC books by Kahlani B. Steele and tells the story of this traumatized and courageous young woman.
One of the most thrilling aspects of this book is how it sheds a glaring light on the toxic masculinity that is usually romanticized through damsel in distress scenarios, when sometimes a person is simply coping with unaddressed and mismanaged trauma. If the kind of book that unveils the ugly and freeing side of what is considered a relationship is your cup of tea, you will love the hesitation, rippling muscles, and hitched breathing plastered all over the pages of this book.
There is nothing to fault in this book. It is professionally edited, so there are no grammar and spelling hurdles to stumble upon. In this way, the book reads quite smoothly, which allows one to relish the story without much to impede one’s enjoyment. The story is told in a manner that allows the reader to immerse oneself in the captivating and enthralling events that take place. It is for this reason that sensitive readers should be aware that there is continuous use of profane language, there is also quite a bit of sexual content, and various forms of abuse. If any of these will be an issue for you, proceed with caution or take it on another time. Other than that, this is an excellent read!