CHLOE HAYES POV:
My arms were wrapped desperately around his solid waist. I pressed my tear-soaked face against his broad, muscular back, trembling uncontrollably.
For a split second, Axel's massive body turned to stone.
But it was only for a second.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through his chest.
He didn't gently pry my hands away. He grabbed my wrists with brutal force and forcefully tore me off him, shoving me backward. I stumbled, my bare feet slipping on the hardwood floor, barely catching myself before hitting the ground.
He spun around to face me. The dark brown eyes that had looked at me with such devastating tenderness before he died in the warehouse were now filled with absolute frost and biting mockery.
"What is this, Chloe? A new trick?" Axel took a step toward me, his towering frame casting a suffocating shadow over me. "Crying, screaming, starving yourself... none of that worked. So now you're throwing yourself at me? Are you trying to use your body to buy your way out of this clubhouse?"
His words were like slaps to my face, but I couldn't blame him. In my past life, I had used every vile, disgusting method to force him to let me go to Blaze. I had treated his love like garbage.
"No, Axe... I don't want to leave..." I shook my head frantically, tears streaming down my face.
I looked at his bare chest. Right over his heart was the massive Redwood Originals President insignia. And just below his collarbone, a faded bullet scar—a scar he had gotten while protecting me from a rival gang a year ago.
My heart twisted in agony. I took a step forward, ignoring his lethal glare, and gently placed my trembling hand over that scar.
I felt his abdominal muscles instantly clench tight.
"I don't want a divorce. I don't want to leave," I whispered, looking up into his dark, stormy eyes. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips against his tightly shut, cold mouth.
I had no experience. In my past life, I had fought him like a feral cat every time he touched me. My kiss was clumsy, desperate, tasting of my tears and my profound regret.
I could smell the mint and tobacco on his breath. For a terrifying moment, he didn't move. Then, I heard a low, involuntary groan tear from his throat. His large hand grabbed the back of my neck, holding me in place as his mouth opened, ready to devour me.
But just as the kiss was about to deepen, his body went rigid. He tore his mouth away from mine and pushed me back, his breathing heavy, his eyes burning with a mix of dark lust and intense self-loathing.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" he gritted his teeth, his chest heaving. "Save your cheap seduction."
He turned away, grabbing his cut—the heavy leather vest with the President patch—and roughly shoved his arms through it. He was putting on his armor against me.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sudden sound shattered the heavy tension in the room.
"Prez," a respectful voice called out from the hallway. It was a Prospect. "Breakfast is ready. Also, Mrs. Wallace asked if the Old Lady still wants the pink silk sheets and the floral curtains changed today?"
Pink silk. Floral curtains. The ridiculous, nauseatingly sweet style I had forced upon this gritty, masculine room in my past life, just to annoy him.
Axel didn't look at me. He walked toward the door to dismiss the Prospect, clearly eager to escape my presence.
"Wait," I called out, my voice surprisingly steady.
Axel paused, his hand on the doorknob, his back stiff.
I walked past him and pulled the door open, facing the stunned Prospect. "Tell Mrs. Wallace to throw all that pink garbage into the incinerator. Strip this room of everything that belongs to my old taste. From now on, this room will be decorated purely in black and leather... exactly to the President's liking."
The Prospect's jaw dropped. He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. I, the spoiled brat who screamed at the sight of leather, was submitting to the club's style?
I turned to look at Axel. His eyes were narrowed, a flicker of genuine shock piercing through his icy exterior.
"Yes... yes, Old Lady!" the Prospect stammered, quickly bowing and scurrying away.
Axel stared at me, his jaw clenching. He was trying to decipher my angle. "If you think playing the obedient wife will make me drop my guard—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt crackled to life.
It was Alfred, the club's Treasurer. His voice was crisp and urgent. "Prez. We have a situation at the main gate. Blaze Golden is outside. He's screaming, saying he desperately needs to see Chloe. He won't leave."
Blaze Golden.
The name dropped into the room like a live grenade.
The shock in Axel's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a murderous, blood-chilling darkness. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his lips curling into a smile that made my blood run cold.
"So," Axel whispered, stepping toward me like an apex predator cornering its prey. "That's what the tears and the kiss were for. Stalling for time so your little rat could make a scene at my gate."
