Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Nevaeh

B y the time I got to the airport, my head was throbbing so I popped some more pain killers and drank a couple of bottles of water. With a slightly queasy stomach, I avoided eating anything and just hopped on the first plane to London, hoping I’d sleep a chunk of the journey away. Unfortunately, sleep evaded me because my brain wouldn’t shut off.

Now, a few hours into the flight, I couldn’t pretend what I was doing wasn’t for all the wrong reasons. I was running away like a wuss. No, like a chicken. A big ol’ yellow-bellied chicken.

I bury my face in my hands, wondering if I left a trail of smoke behind me with how fast I bolted out of there.

At first, I was embarrassed about doing the walk of shame. Now, I’m embarrassed about fleeing the country. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep what happened between me and Havoc a secret for long. I haven’t spent much time with the guys, but I know they gossip worse than a bunch of high school girls. That’s assuming Havoc even remembers. It never crossed my mind that he might’ve been just as drunk as I was.

There’s a comfort in that, though I’d be lying if I said the ache in my chest was indigestion. My first time might not have gone the way I imagined it, but the thought of being forgotten…

“Ugh, I’m such a drama queen.”

“Excuse me?”

I freeze, realizing I just said that out loud, and turn to look at the guy sitting next to me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, my face heating.

He smirks at me. In another life, before my vagina had been invaded, I might have felt something. He’s a good-looking guy and just rough enough to be my type. He’s big and broad with sandy-colored hair. A faint scar runs from his hairline down the side of his face as if someone tried to cut him up, and like Havoc, he’s had his nose broken once or twice.

“Dammit, don’t think about him.”

“Think about who?” the man asks, his pale blue eyes studying me as he waits for an answer, but they don’t feel intrusive. They’re more curious than anything.

“A man,” I reply.

“Ah, well, that explains everything,” he teases.

I huff, then open my mouth and everything spills out. “I got drunk, which was stupid because I never drink, and ended up having sex with a strange man.”

I slap my hands over my mouth, cutting off the stream of words as my eyes widen to the point where I’m worried an eyeball will pop out and roll down the aisle.

He shakes his head, angling his body toward me. “Honestly, it happens to us all.”

“You get drunk and wake up with strange men often?” I ask.

He laughs. “I’m usually the strange man. What can I say? I like women; I just don’t want the aggravation of dating one.”

“I feel like anything I say now will sound judgy,” I admit.

“And are you? Judging me?”

I nod. “Oh yeah, definitely. Not because I think you’re a bad person or anything. You can sleep with whoever you want. If it works for you, all the power to you. As long as they know it’s just sex and nothing more, I don’t see the harm. It just seems so…”

“Slutty?” he drawls.

“Lonely.”

He’s quiet for a moment, taking me in before holding out his large, scarred hand. “Ambros.”

“Nevaeh,” I say, slipping my hand into his.

“Nevaeh,” he repeats.

“It’s ‘heaven’ spelled backward,” I tell him.

“Pretty.”

I shrug. I’ve never really liked it.

“So the guy? Tell me about him.”

“What’s there to tell?”

“Was he at least good?”

“Umm…” I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Come on, you might as well tell me. We still have about three and a half hours to kill. And I’m a man-whore, so no judgment from me.”

“It’s not that,” I say, hesitating before thinking, screw it . I’m never going to see him again, and I need to tell someone who won’t judge me. Not that I think Amity would. I’m just embarrassed.

I take a deep breath. “I was drunk and passed out. My friend’s boyfriend carried me to bed, and…”

“And… please tell me your friend’s boyfriend didn’t?—”

“Oh, no—nothing like that. Amity was with him. G adores Amity. He’d never do anything to mess that up. And if I’m wrong and one day he turns into a colossal creep who would do that kind of thing, I’d tell her all about it after I finished burying his body.”

“Okay good, but how do you go from being asleep to?—”

“Waking up with a biker inside me?”

He stares at me, speechless.

“I thought I was dreaming. I… um… write books. That’s why I’m on my way to the UK; I’m going to a book signing.” I pause, but he just watches me, waiting, so I take a breath and continue. “I don’t have much experience, so I read a lot and watch a lot of porn for inspiration.”

“You might just be my dream girl,” he says.

I giggle. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing.” I bite my lip. “The books and porn sites don’t just inspire my writing; they also inspire my dreams… It usually ends before I get to the good part. Only this time, it didn’t.”

He’s staring at me now like he’s never met anyone more fascinating. “So when you said you woke up with a biker inside you, you meant literally.”

I nod. “Yeah, but wait, it gets better.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how that’s even possible.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you mocking me?”

“What? No, not even a little bit. You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

I frown. “No. Should I?”

“No. And I just realized how arrogant I sounded when I said that. But what I was trying to say is that nobody just talks to me normally anymore. You, little Miss ‘heaven spelled backwards,’ are a nice change.”

“You really are a strange man, Ambros,” I tell him.

He smiles and motions for me to continue.

I grip the armrest and lean forward to whisper the rest in his ear. “I was a virgin.”

He freezes, and I bite my lip as I pull back and look up at him. His face is a mask of concern.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I was a virgin, so yeah, a little, but…” I let my voice trail off as I look down, embarrassed.

His finger slips under my chin and tilts my head up. “Tell me.”

I sigh. If I’m going to tell someone, I might as well tell him. “I liked it. I mean, after I got over the shock and pain. I liked it.” I pause for a moment, glancing away before meeting his eyes again. “I think they might’ve put me in the wrong room, so he probably thought I was there for him.”

At his confusion, I explain a little further. “He’s part of a motorcycle club, so they have girls there who are happy to warm their beds.”

“And you think he mistook you for one of those girls.” His eyes move over me before looking up in disbelief.

“I was in his bed, Ambros. Not sitting in a church,” I roll my eyes at him.

“So what happened next? Did the fucker kick you out?”

“He held me until we both fell asleep. Then I snuck out… lied to my best friend, jumped on a plane, and left the country,” I admit.

He stares at me for a second before throwing his head back and laughing, drawing the attention of those around us.

I slap his chest and cross my arms, slumping back in my seat with a huff. I wait for his laughter to fade before looking at him.

He wipes a tear from his eye and turns to me with a smile. “Alright, so is there a chance you’ll run into this guy again? You said he was a stranger, so…”

“My best friend’s dating one of his club brothers, so yeah, I’m going to see him again. But he probably won’t remember me.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but there’s no way he’s going to forget you.”

I frown, confused, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Let me ask you this… if he tracked you down and wanted more, would you be interested?”

I think about Havoc’s hands on my body and shiver.

Ambros gives me a knowing look, but it’s not as easy as he seems to think.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is.”

“My father’s a pastor.”

He grins widely. “The pastor’s daughter and a biker?”

“Actually, he’s about to become president of the club.”

“Of course he is.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “You know what, Nevaeh, I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“You don’t know my father, or—” He cuts me off, pressing his finger to my lips.

“You’re legal, right?” he asks, taking his finger from my lips.

“Legal to… what? Have sex?” He nods. “Of course I am. I’m twenty-five.”

“Then it’s none of his business. I understand he might not be happy with the idea of his little girl being with a biker, but it’s not his decision. It’s yours. Life’s short. Tomorrow’s a gift, not a guarantee.”

He’s right. Hell, I know that better than anyone. But still, I’m not the type of girl he’s used to. Why would Havoc be interested in me?

“It really doesn’t matter anyway, not when he realizes this is what he’s getting.” I wave a hand over myself.

“All I see is a beautiful, smart, funny woman. And if Mr. President doesn’t take his shot, I’ll be happy to step in.”

My mouth drops open.

“You might want to close your mouth; it’s making me think of all the ways I want to fill it.”

My mouth snaps closed so quickly, I hear it click.

“Relax, I’m not going to maul you. But you should know you’ve got options, and most women think I’m a pretty good catch.”

“How on earth did you manage to fit that ego of yours on this plane?”

“Let’s just say I’m used to carrying big things around.”

The rest of the flight flew by—no pun intended—with Ambros keeping me entertained. And by the time we land, I realize I’ll be sad to see him go. As we wait for our luggage to arrive, he nudges me and almost sends me flying.

“Thanks for that, Bigfoot.”

“Gimmie your phone.”

“Why?”

“So I can steal it,” he deadpans, holding out his hand. “I wanna know what happens with you and Mr. President.”

I unlock my phone and hand it to him. After a few moments, I hear his phone chime, and he hands mine back to me.

“There, now I have your number, and you’ve got mine. I need to know what happens next.”

“Well, what happens next is me surviving my first book signing.”

“Book signing? Oh, right. My sister’s the same. She’s obsessed with this author she’s just found. She keeps trying to get me to read the books too, but they aren’t really my thing.”

“What’s the author’s name? If they’re going to the same signing as me, I might be able to get a book signed for her and send it your way.”

“Seriously? She’d love that, and I’d cement myself as her favorite brother.”

I laugh. “How many brothers are there?”

“Oh, just me.”

I look at him for a second before laughing..

“It’s Celeste something.”

I freeze.

“Celeste Sky?”

“That’s it. I take it you’re a fan, too?”

“I mean, I’ve read all her books.”

“Of course you have. What is it with women and book porn?”

“We got tired of real-life men sucking. Fictional men fuck like gods and slay our demons without judgment,” I snap, dropping an f-bomb, which is so unlike me. “But it's also so much more than that. It's about finding something we can't get in real life. About exploring your desires, fantasies, and aspects of relationships we can’t get or talk about. It's about empowering women. I hate it when people put down romance books, writing them off as just porn.”

“Okay, I get it. And since you’re looking at me like you might stab me, I’m just going to apologize and beg for your forgiveness.” He gives me puppy-dog eyes.

I snort but then sigh. “Whatever. Your sister’s right. Maybe you should read one, then you might understand why romance books bring in over a billion dollars a year.”

I unzip my carry-on and dig around until I find one of my books. I pull it out and show it to Ambros.

“Oh, I recognize that one. It’s on my sister’s birthday wish list. I didn’t think it was out yet.”

“It’s not. You got a pen?”

“No.” He looks around, then turns back to me. “Hold on,” he says, and walks over to a guy holding up a handwritten sign not far behind us, coming back with a Sharpie.

I take it from him, pull the cap off with my teeth, and crack open the front of the book. “What’s your sister’s name?” I ask with the cap still between my teeth.

“Ella. But she’ll notice if the autograph doesn’t match the others, Nevaeh. It’s a nice thought, though.”

I ignore him as I write out a message to Ella, not wanting to spell anything wrong, and sign it. Then I hand him the book and put the cap back on the marker just as the guy he took it from looks at him and frowns.

“Hey, aren’t you Ambros Deveraux?”

Ambros looks at him before his eyes slowly move to mine, then drop to the book and back up again as all the pieces fall into place. “You’re Celeste Sky.”

“Yeah, I am. Celeste Sky’s my pen name.”

“Oh, I need a picture. My sister’s going to lose her mind.”

“I’ll take it,” the guy holding the sign says. “Can I get an autograph, too, Ambros? I’ve been a fan of yours for years.”

“Sure, man, no problem.”

He hands his phone to the guy and wraps his arm around me. I smile as sign guy takes the picture.

“So, Ambros, what do you do?” I ask him, my curiosity now piqued.

But the sign guy answers, practically bouncing as he hands Ambros back his phone. “He’s an MMA fighter. One of the best there is. Man, that fight between you and O’Donnell was insane,” he says to Ambros.

“You want me to take your picture?” I ask, amused when Ambros suddenly looks shy.

“Fuck yes, my mates won’t believe me otherwise.” He hands me his phone, and I take a few pictures before Ambros signs the guy’s T-shirt.

I notice the people around us are starting to stare, trying to figure out who we are. Anndd… that’s my cue to leave.

“Well, Ambros… it’s been fun, but I’ve gotta go.” I hand the phone back and give Ambros a grin. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for listening.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am,” he says, tipping his imaginary hat.

I laugh, heading over to grab my suitcase when I see it on the conveyor.

“I’ll be checking in to see how it goes,” he calls out as I walk away with a wave.

We’ll see.

Growing up sheltered, I didn't have many friends and definitely not much interaction with men. Ambros had been so nice, listening to me without judgment and making me feel... I don't know, seen? I want to believe he meant what he said and that he was a nice guy because I could really use someone like him in my life.

I walk through the automatic doors and stand on the sidewalk outside Heathrow and breathe in the London air. I can’t believe I’m here. Pulling my suitcase behind me, I wait in line and grab a taxi to my hotel in the West End. Once I’ve checked in, I head up to my room and collapse on the bed in a heap. It’s quiet, just like I wanted it to be. But as I lie here, my mind keeps drifting to a certain biker. After a few minutes, I give up and decide I need to burn off some of this energy. I change into my swimsuit and head to the hotel pool. I swim for an hour, then go back to my room and order room service. Twenty minutes later, my food arrives, and I eat in silence. By the time I’m finished, I can barely keep my eyes open. With a yawn, I pull the blankets back and climb into bed. The moment my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep.

I spend the next week doing all the touristy things. I toured the Tower of London and the British Museum, visited Kensington Palace and Harrods, watch the changing of the guards outside Buckingham Palace, and even checked out Tower Bridge and the London Eye while eating a bunch of amazing food. The portion sizes are bigger than I expected, so it’s a good thing I spent my days walking around the city.

By the time the signing rolls around, I realize I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to think about anything else.

The signing itself was crazy. Despite my nerves, I loved every moment of it. The first evening was a meet and greet where I got to interact with fellow authors as well as bloggers and influencers who have shared my books far and wide thanks to social media. The meet and greet was a far more intimate arrangement than the actual signing itself which was a full weekend event. It was nothing but organized chaos and as its one of the largest book signing events in the world it felt very much like jumping head first off a cliff but it was worth it. And not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Getting to meet so many of my readers who were genuinely touched by my words and as protective of my characters as I am meant everything to me and has me itching to get back to writing.

Now that I’ve survived my first signing, I’m excited to plan out my next one.

“So, how was it?”

I turn to Leah, one of the other authors, whose table’s beside mine. “Pretty good. I had no idea how exhausting it would be, though.”

She laughs. “Right? You think, ‘I’ll be sitting all day, how could I possibly get tired?’”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“If you’re anything like me, this much peopling definitely doesn’t help.”

“It so doesn’t.”

She smiles, and I grin as I pack up the last of my things. “You know, since this was a last-minute thing for me, I was worried I wouldn’t have enough books or swag. But so many people brought their own stuff for me to sign.”

“It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

“It really is. It also made packing up sooo much easier,” I say with a grin.

“Lucky bitch,” she says, making me laugh.

“You need help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Hubs will be here any minute, and I’ll just load him up like a pack mule.”

“Now, why didn’t I think of that?” I tease.

A voice over the speakers announces that we have fifteen minutes left to clear out.

“Crap, I better get back to it. It was nice to meet you, Celeste. Hopefully, I’ll see you on the circuit again.”

“Fingers crossed. And it was nice to meet you too.”

After packing up the last of my things and thanking the organizers, I wheel my stuff out and hail a taxi. I’m so ready to get back to the hotel and slip into a hot bath with my Kindle. And I admit, now that everything is over, I feel a little home sick.

After I pay the driver, I head up to the room and open my laptop on a whim to see if there are any earlier flights home. The plan was to rest and sleep for the next two days, but I just want to go home. As luck would have it there is a few seats available tomorrow so I reschedule my flight before I change my mind.

With that done, I hop into action, packing my things for my now stupidly early flight, leaving out only what I’ll need in the morning.

I place an order for room service and then head into the bathroom to fill the tub, turning the water to just the right temperature and adding some bubble bath. While it fills, I flick through the TV channels until I find the music stations. Settling on some soft Jazz, I turn it up loud enough to listen to in the bathroom but not so loud that the neighbors will bang on the wall.

When there’s a knock, I let room service in and wait for them to leave before I strip and grab my Kindle, leaving the fruit platter for when I get out.

Walking into the bathroom, I step into the tub and sink under the bubbles.

The break away from home has been just what I needed. It gave me the clarity and space to admit that I may have overreacted. Besides, there’s no way Havoc will remember me, so I worked myself up for nothing.

I settle in with my Kindle and relax. When I feel myself getting sleepy, I get out of the water and dry off. I pull on my PJs and eat some of my fruit, then climb into bed for a few hours of sleep before I have to be at the airport.

Still half asleep when my alarm goes off, I get up, get dressed and check out looking more reanimated than alive. When I arrive at the airport, I grab an overpriced orange juice and a breakfast sandwich and wait bleary eyed for my flight to be called. Once the food kicks in, and I feel somewhat human again, I people watch, imagining what their lives might be like. I spot a bearded man wearing shades in the brightly lit terminal, holding on to an energy drink for dear life.

If he were one of my characters he would be trying to make it to his wedding on time after being dumped, drunk in the middle of nowhere by his best man after a disastrous Batchelor party. The plot twist being he bumps into the woman he loves right at this airport, only she isn’t the woman at the alter for him, but the one who got away. I pull out my note book and jot down the idea as giggle snatches my attention. I look up and see a little girl of maybe four or five running ahead of a harried looking woman, I assume is her mother, hurrying to catch up. The kid plows into my imaginary grooms legs, jolting him out of his day dreams. He reaches for the kid to stop her from falling before his eyes collide with the mothers who apologizes effusively.

I dip my head and grin as I add to the story bubbling in my brain.

The groom takes one look at the woman and see the one who got away right in front of him like some kind of serendipity, before he remembers he’s about to marry another. He turns away, focusing on the child. A child who has the exact same eyes that he does.

I jump when I hear my flight being called. I shove my notepad and pen back in my bag before I stand up and throw it over my shoulder and walk past the groom and his long-lost love. I can’t help but chuckle when the kid climbs onto his lap and makes herself comfortable much to the surprise of the adults watching her. Dammit, I’m almost sad to leave and miss seeing how this plays out.

Boarding the plane, I stow my bag and get settled in, slipping on my headphones as I wait for the passengers to board. The flight home is nothing like the one to London. The person in the seat beside me is a teenage boy who ignores me, so I end up sleeping most of the way. Even though I sleep on the plane, I can’t wait to get back home to the RV and curl up for a few hours. I’m not sure when I started to think of the RV as home, but I have—and it is.

Once I finally make it out of the airport, I have to push my way through the crowds of people waiting for their loved ones so I can get my case and not pout over the fact that there is nobody missing me but Amity, assuming G hasn’t kept her too distracted with his star-spangled dick. Once I locate my case, I grab it and head out to my car, throwing the case and my bag in the trunk before heading to the movie set. But when I pull up and see the police, I realize something’s wrong, and whatever it is, it’s bad.

I jump out of the car and grab the first person I can find. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“One of the stunt crew got hurt.”

“What? Who? How?” I ask, my heart racing.

“I don’t know much. I just know it was the girl. I think her name’s Amy.”

“Amity?”

“That’s it. Amity.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. Probably the hospital.” She walks away like she didn’t just drop a bomb on my world.

I grab someone else as they pass by, but they refuse to talk to me. Frustrated, I jump in my car and race to the clubhouse, knowing G will know where she is.

I don’t pay attention to the prospect that lets me in. I just park and run up to the saloon, praying that she’s okay. I can’t lose her too.

I burst through the doors and spot G right away. “G!” I yell his name as I run over and crash into him, grabbing his shirt as his arms wrap around me. “Tell me she’s okay! Please, God! Tell me she’s okay!” I pull back to look up at him. “I got home early and went to the set to see her, but they told me she got hurt, and nobody would tell me anything else!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Tinkerbell. She’s okay, I promise. She’s asleep upstairs.”

“Really?” I ask, tears streaming down my face. “You promise?”

“I swear it. Come on, I’ll take you up to see her.”

I nod jerkily, freezing when I hear a familiar voice beside him.

“Vanilla,” Havoc groans as he lifts a strand of my hair to smell it.

“You two know each other?” G asks, his eyebrow raising as he looks between us.

“No!” I shout as Havoc moves closer, grinning like a lunatic as he tucks the strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, I know her, G. This is my future wife.”

“What the fuck?” G asks.

What the actual… I stare at him, my mouth dropping open in shock.

“Go be with your friend, Cupcake. I’ll catch you later.”

Before I can say anything, he’s gone, leaving me standing there stunned.

“Young lady, I think you’ve got some splaining to do,” G says, doing his best Ricky Ricardo impression. I want to laugh, but instead my shoulders sag.

“Later. For now, I just need to see Amity.”