Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He didn’t trust himself to speak, to move, to breathe. Luckily, Hop didn’t seem to notice. He closed the door behind him, crossed the room like a fucking cat, all grace and attitude, then sat at one of the leather chairs in front of Rafe’s large metal desk.
A desk Rafe was obscenely grateful for in that moment for many reasons he didn’t want to analyze.
“So,” Hop began. “Let’s get some shit settled, shall we?”
Rafe had forgotten the phone in his hand until he heard the tinny distant rumble of Ansel’s voice and ended the call.
“How’d you get in here?” Rafe asked. The way to his office was private for a reason.
Hop rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“Keep rolling your eyes at me and I’ll put you over my knee.” Fucking hell. Had he said that out loud?
Yep.
Hop’s eyebrows were in his hairline, his eyes dilated, and a blush had exploded on his already rosy cheeks. And damn if that blush didn’t tempt Rafe to stupidity.
Maybe he’d been on the right track after all.
The image of Hop kneeling before him flashed in Rafe’s mind but this time he didn’t push it away as impossible because there was a sparkle of interest in Hop’s eyes.
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” Challenge for challenge, Hop crossed his legs with an intriguing confidence.
Drawing on every ounce of his famous control, Rafe pulled his gaze away from Hop’s lap. “I thought you’d said everything you wanted to say this afternoon.”
Hop’s smirk was victorious. “Yeah, thought so. Easy to make threats, a whole ’nother monster to follow through, ain’t it?”
Rafe clenched his fists on his knees. He would not let Hop provoke him, no matter how this new side of his old charge lit his blood. Silence settled around them while they eyed each other. Rafe didn’t mind the quiet. It was a tactic that put him back in the driver’s seat in any situation, and with Hop he needed every weapon in his arsenal.
“I don’t like you,” Hop finally said. “But I like your club. More importantly, the Sassy Boyz deserve to dance on your stage.”
Rafe nodded. “Agreed.”
“The thing is, I don’t trust you or this sudden conscience of yours as far as I can spit. People like you don’t make apologies unless there’s something in it for them. I’m going to need something binding if I’m going to convince them to come back.”
Rafe had been prepared for this. He pulled out the new contract and handed it to Hop. “Increased pay, more shifts, more flexibility, and greater control.”
Hop barely glanced at it. “I’m not interested in contracts. You ripped the last one up, remember? Who’s to say you won’t do that again?”
“There’s a clause. It’s binding—”
Hop shook his head. “What is this really about?”
“I made a mistake. I’m trying to correct it the only way I know how.”
Hop stood with a disgusted look on his face. “I don’t even know why I came tonight. Fucking hell, are you even honest to yourself? Do you think I can’t see right through your bullshit? Roland may not have raised me, but he taught me a thing or two over the years. One of them is how to spot a liar.” He headed toward the door.
Rafe knew his last chance was about to disappear. There would be no convincing Ansel and the others if he let Hop walk away. Down to his bones, he understood that this was it. He had to lay it all out or fuck his dreams for good. Only Hop could help him now.
He stood. “Please.”
* * *
Hop paused with his hand on the handle of Rafe’s office door. Rafe sounded frantic and it was so strange, Hop couldn’t move.
He should leave and never look back. He needed to get the hell out of there, away from those mesmerizing eyes and Rafe’s powerful energy.
Every minute he spent in Rafe’s presence reminded him of all the bad decisions he’d made in his youth. He’d worked hard to distance himself from his mistakes, but mostly, from his father.
He’d finally given up his childhood dream to know the man, to form the sort of relationship most boys took for granted.
Being here was stirring up old hurts and Hop didn’t need that shit.
“Whatever you want, I’ll help you get it. Hop, please. Do you want revenge? Is that it? I can get it for you.”
That made him turn. “Revenge?”
“On your father.”
He shook his head. “The best revenge is moving on with my life.”
Hands braced on his desk, Rafe hung his head. “Christ, you’ve matured. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it.” He looked stressed. Desperate. Defeated.
Hop let go of the handle and took a hesitant step toward him. “What’s really going on, Rafe?”
An exhale and then, “I’m so close.”
“Close to what?”
Rafe lifted his head and met Hop’s eyes. It felt like years that they stared at each other. The commanding powerful presence that drew Hop in had disappeared, now Rafe was lost and vulnerable. The contrast was disorienting.