Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Page 3

  But it is. You felt it the moment you heard her voice earlier.

  I force away the little voice and grit my teeth as the bike shifts when she puts her weight on the step.

  A gasp escapes my lips as her thighs encase mine.

  I lower my head, fighting my need to turn around and find out just how she looks with her dress hitched up around her hips.

  I wait for a beat to see if she's going to wrap her arms around my waist, but when she doesn't, I assume that she's opted for the handles instead. Disappointment floods me. I'll just have to come up with another way to test my theory about our connection later. There's no way it can still exist. No way at all. It will have died like she should have that day.

  I don't bother saying anything; I just assume that after all her years of being around bikes she knows what's expected of her.

  We fly out of the school car park, the gravel kicking up behind us.

  My body burns to feel her wrap her arms around me, but at no point does she move to do so.

  I'd spent all afternoon trying to decide the best way to play this. But even now with her sitting behind me, I have no clue what the right thing is.

  I need her. Enrolling Emmie at Knight's Ridge was a huge risk. I might have inheritance sitting waiting for me to claim, but I don't have my hands on it, and I certainly don't have the necessary requirements to get a hold of it right now either.

  Gran’s words from all those years ago fill my mind.

  "The inheritance that's due to you will only be released once you're engaged."

  When Emmie's mum decided that three weeks ago was the perfect time for her to give up all responsibilities of our daughter after years of fighting with me, I knew I needed to step up my game if I wanted Emmie to have the best shot at life.

  I'd had no reason to need that inheritance before now. I have everything I need; I work for everything I want. I've never been the kind of person to rely on handouts from my wealthy grandparents. It's their money, not mine. I have no ownership over it.

  But suddenly, I could put some of it to very good use, so I figure I may as well try.

  All I need is a ring and a woman who's going to play the part. If my gran was still alive, then I might feel guilty about deceiving her, but she passed only two years after my grandad. But my daughter can use this money, and I know my gran would never deny Emmie anything.

  Despite my words, a shiver of guilt still runs down my spine. I’ll deal with it if it means Emmie doesn't end up following a similar path to her mother: a part-time job in the corner shop with no prospects, and the only thing to look forward to is the drinks and drugs that await her after her shift.

  I shake my head. Why did I ever think that was a good idea?

  I know the answer. I was young, stupid, and heartbroken. Still no excuse, but it is what it is.

  I pull the bike to a stop a little down the street from where I've booked a table for this evening and kill the engine.

  She's off and standing on the pavement faster than I thought possible. Pulling my helmet from my head, I reach out to take hers but freeze as she starts adjusting her dress.

  "What?" she snaps when she realises I'm staring.

  "N-nothing."

  "Where are you taking me?" she asks, looking down the street for clues. She might be standing with her shoulders wide and trying to look confident, but I can see fear lingering in her eyes. It seems she's forgotten her mask, because back when we were kids, she was the expert at hiding the truth.

  I had no idea that she was playing me.

  I always thought I could read her. I believed every lie that fell from her lips when we were kids.

  Well, not now. I'm older, wiser, and a hell of a lot more tainted by the bullshit that is life, especially one connected with the most notorious MC in the city.

  I lock the helmets away and secure my bike before turning to her.

  She swallows nervously and I fight my need to smile, knowing just how anxious she is right now.

  "Let's go." I press my hand to the small of her back and push her forward, unable to miss the shudder that rips through her at my touch.

  4

  Piper

  My legs are so unsteady as Dawson guides me down the street that I fear I'm about to crumble to a pile on the concrete at any second.

  His large hand burns through my blazer and dress, which makes my temperature soar. His freshly showered, manly scent that’s assaulting my nose doesn’t help either.

  He doesn't smell like the men I spend my days with at the school. He smells like... man. Like my past. It floods me with conflicting emotions. A part of me wants to feel safe with him. It's how he always made me feel: secure and protected.

  But I know it would be foolish to allow that to happen.

  He might still be Dawson, the boy I fell in love with all those years ago, but I can't forget that I betrayed him. That I took every ounce of trust we'd built together and shattered it.

  I'm pretty sure there's no coming back from what I did, which is why I'm so scared about where he's leading me. I guess the only good thing right now is that we're not walking toward his father, because as influential as he is, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be waiting for me in one of the bars and restaurants that line this street. When—not if—he gets his hands on me, then it will be somewhere much less populated to reap his revenge.

  My stomach turns over at the thought. I know all too well the kinds of things that go on behind closed doors at their clubhouse with the likes of our fathers and their acquaintances.

  My eyes widen in surprise when he turns me toward a steakhouse and guides me inside.

  The scent of the flame grill makes my mouth water and my stomach grumble.

  I didn't eat at lunch. I couldn't. After having Dawson in my office, it was all I could do to breathe properly as memories of our time together played out in my head like a fucking movie.

  "W-what's this?"

  "A steakhouse."

  "Smart-arse," I mutter as he steps up to the waiter who greets us.

  "I've got a table booked for Ramsey," he says quietly, so quietly that I almost miss it. Although what I don't miss is the quick movement of his hand as he slips the waiter a note.

  My stomach tumbles, my earlier appetite disappearing in the blink of an eye.

  "Of course. Please follow me."

  Dawson doesn't move. Instead, he waits for me to step forward and once again places his hand against my back, guiding me through the restaurant and out the door at the far end of the vast room.

  "W-where are we going?" I ask hesitantly, unsure if I actually want the answer to that question or not.

  "I've organised a surprise."

  "Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

  He can't kill you in a busy restaurant, a little voice pipes up, but it does little to settle the unease swirling around inside me.

  We walk down the bright corridor before the waiter pushes another door open and gestures for us to step through.

  Inside is a small room with a laid-up table in the centre. Soft music plays from the speakers and candles flicker on the mismatched pieces of furniture.

  It would be a great place for a romantic date. Only, that can't be what this is, can it?

  "Here you go. Freya will be your server tonight. Get yourselves settled and she'll be through to take your drink order shortly."

  The guy leaves as I step into the doorway, feeling more confused than ever.

  "W-what is this?" I stutter as Dawson pushes me farther into the room.

  "A surprise. Come and sit."

  He walks around me and pulls a chair out.

  Apprehension races through me, and I fight the need to turn to look back at the door so I know I've got an escape route.

  My heart beats wildly in my chest as I hesitantly step toward him.

  "What's wrong, Piper? I don't bite. Well, not hard."

  I swallow, although the lump that’s been sitting in my throat since I first heard his bike rumble
to a stop at school doesn't move.

  "Water?" he asks the second he's in his own seat opposite me.

  I nod, and he lifts the jug of water and starts pouring into two glasses.

  Knowing that I need to be sensible, I wait for him to take a sip before I do. Although, he's hardly going to kill me this early into our evening by poisoning my water. He probably wants to enjoy his meal first. To grill me about what happened when we were kids. It's dessert I should be watching out for.

  My hand trembles as I reach out for my glass, but before my fingers connect with something cool, they find his.

  "You're shaking. Am I really that scary?"

  "Dawson," I breathe. As terrified as I am, I can still hardly believe this is happening.

  The first few months of being back in London, I looked over my shoulder every few minutes, thinking that he or one of the other Royal Reapers would appear. But they never did. So at some point, I stopped looking. I never totally let my guard down, and I certainly never forgot. But things became easier.

  "I... um... You've just blindsided me, that's all," I admit, snatching my hand back and this time making sure I get my glass.

  I lift it to my lips and swallow the contents. The cool water feels good, but it’s not enough of a distraction.

  "More?"

  I nod, and he refills my glass.

  His eyes don’t leave me the entire time I drink it. It's as unnerving as it is familiar. He always used to disarm me with just one look; it seems that might be one thing that hasn’t changed.

  "So," I start, needing to end this oppressive silence that's fallen between us. "How are you?"

  "How am I?" he asks like it's the most absurd question he's ever heard.

  His eyes hold mine, but what I see within his has me looking away despite the pull I feel. The anger that's shining back at me every time I so much as glance at him is too much.

  He should have just put me out of my misery when he first found me.

  "So, you've got a daughter? Married?" I ask, glancing down at his bare ring finger.

  He's wearing huge rings on the other fingers, along with ink covering every single one. Heat washes through me as I run my eyes over the patterns.

  We were at the point of making some serious decisions about our lives when our time together ended. I wonder what he went to do. Or if his father put him straight to work for the Reapers. The rings sure point in that direction.

  I bet they cause some serious pain to any guy on the other end.

  He clears his throat, successfully dragging my eyes up to his dark ones.

  Staring into them is like watching a storm approaching. Only, I could weather a storm. Dawson? Not so much.

  No matter what happens between us now, I already know I won't survive him a second time.

  "No, I'm not married. Never have been. Emmie was a happy accident a little over seventeen years ago."

  Thankfully, his eyes soften a little as he talks about her. Something inside me relaxes. Maybe there is still a bit of the sweet boy I remember all too well beneath the hurt and anger.

  "She's really quite something."

  He chuckles, and the sound does weird things to my insides. Things I want to keep feeling around him instead of the constant fear.

  "She is. She's got so much potential—"

  "Hence Knight's Ridge."

  He nods. "She's lived with her mother up until a few weeks ago. She wasn't the best influence."

  "She'll have all the opportunities available to her now."

  "That's my plan. Assuming I can make her attend," he mutters, much to my amusement.

  Something tells me that the small amount of sass I experienced from her earlier is nothing compared to what she's capable of.

  "She seems thrilled by the prospect; I can't imagine she won't want to attend." My sarcasm is loud and clear, but it doesn't seem to hit the spot with Dawson because his eyes just narrow on me. And they remain there as a soft knock fills the room and we're joined by our server.

  "Hi, I'm Freya, I'll be serving you tonight. Can I take your drink orders?"

  Unable to rip my stare from the piercing one before me, I keep my eyes locked on Dawson's.

  "Just sparkling water please," I whisper.

  "Sir?"

  "Coke."

  "Very well, I'll be right back.”

  She leaves us alone once again, and I swear she takes all the air with her.

  "What do you want from me, Dawson?" I ask, unable to sit here and play this game with him any longer.

  He sits back and stretches his long legs out beneath the table. One of them rubs up against my bare calf and I gasp as electricity shoots through me at the simple touch.

  A wicked smile pulls at one corner of his lips.

  "I guess you'll just have to wait to find out."

  Dread and fear swirl around me like a storm, but I refuse to let him see that he affects me.

  "Very well. I'm just going to use the bathroom."

  He nods and watches me as I walk toward the door. It's not until I step out into the hallway that I manage to drag in a massive lungful of air, and I feel the world right itself once more.

  I can't be in a small room alone with that man. It's dangerous.

  The temptation to run is high, but as I stand staring at my flushed skin and wide eyes in the bathroom mirror, I realise that in my haste to get away, I left my bag hanging over the back of the chair.

  "Fuck," I whisper-shout to myself.

  Thankfully, the bathroom is empty, giving me a chance to have my little freak out alone.

  He's brought me to a restaurant and arranged for us to have a private room. What's he playing at?

  My head spins as I try to predict what his next moves are going to be. But so far, he's shocked me at every turn.

  I still haven’t even worked out how he feels about finding me. He's angry, sure. But there's more to it than that. I just can't quite put my finger on it.

  Damn him and his mask.

  It was never there as a kid. He was a get-what-you-see kind of boy. It's one of the reasons I was drawn to him. Everyone else in my life was always playing a game. But Dawson, despite his upbringing, was just Dawson. The happy-go-lucky, slightly brooding artist.

  He made my job too easy. He let me in without questioning it, and we helped convince each other that what we were doing wasn't wrong and potentially going to get us both killed.

  We might still be breathing, but I fear the Dawson I knew is long gone.

  I killed him, and in his place, he's erected that mask. The exact one I saw on my dad daily, and the same one I'm sure Dawson experienced from his as a child—possibly does even now, assuming he didn't end up with the same fate as my father.

  I shake my head. There's no chance. Charles Ramsey was too powerful. Even back then. I used to shiver in fear just being in the same room as him. No one, aside from my own power-hungry father, would be stupid enough to go up against him. He was born to rule. It's just yet to be seen if he instilled that same control and power into his eldest son.

  I really fucking hope not. Because if he's anything like his father, then I really don't want to be in that room alone with him tonight.

  The urge to run washes through me again when I get to the door, but I swallow it down, throw my shoulders back, and hold my head high.

  I might not know what game he's playing, but I do know that I'm stronger than to back down.

  I'm Piper Collins. My father raised me to never bow down to a Ramsey.

  So what, he stole my heart at eighteen and never returned it? He's still the enemy.

  As I push the door open, I discover he’s on his phone.

  His eyes find mine the second I step inside before they drop down my body.

  My temperature soars as his eyes eat me up and his full lips wrap around the words he's saying into his phone.

  I don't hear any of them. I'm too lost to the sensation. Until one name brings me back to reality.

  "Cruz, do
n't sweat it, bro. I got this." His words are like a bucket of ice-cold water over me.

  My eyes hold his, and I swear I find excitement dancing in them.

  "Yeah, bro. Tell him not to worry. I've got a plan."

  He nods as Cruz, his younger brother, says something before he says his goodbye and hangs up the phone.

  "Sorry about that," he says, pocketing his phone and gesturing for me to sit back down. "The waitress will be back shortly. She wants to take our orders." He pushes the menu closer to me, but there's no way I could read it now even if I wanted to. My head is still repeating the things he said to Cruz. He was talking about me, that much was obvious.

  5

  Dawson

  I fight my need to smile as all the blood drains from her face the second I say my brother's name.

  It amuses me that she thinks I'd hand her over to Cruz and my father quite so quickly. I thought she'd know me better than that. That she'd expect me to have a little fun before the real pain begins. Because it will happen, there's no doubt about that. I just need to make sure they don't find out about her until I've used her for what I need.

  She stares down at the menu, but I know she isn’t seeing it. The thing could be written in Japanese and she wouldn't notice right now.

  She's scared, on edge, exactly where I want her.

  Cruz's call couldn't have come at a better time even if I'd planned it myself.

  Her fear is the reminder I need for what's happening here. I need to think of the endgame, because after only a few minutes together, I can feel myself beginning to fall under her spell again.

  When I caught her hand trembling, all I wanted to do was reassure her that I'm not going to hurt her, that she's safe with me. But I can't.

  Because she isn’t.

  "Are you ready to order now?" The waitress walks toward the table when I nod and pulls out her notepad.

  "Oh um..." Piper hesitates. "Err... sirloin, please. Medium."

  I study her as she rattles off the rest of her order. She's so familiar yet so different at the same time. It's a head fuck.