Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 4

  “I’m Esmeralda,” She said softly.

  “I know who you are. Name’s Rider,” He said casually as he gripped her hand.

  “He was in an accident? Is that why he wears the bandana?,” She wondered aloud.

  “That among other things,” Esme heard.

  She winced and tuned to see Rayna standing behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “You don’t have to defend him to me, Rayna. I was only curious. I didn't know,” Esme said.

  Rayna’s expression softened slightly.

  “Why not ask him?”

  “Well, he walked away before I could. I’m still wondering what I said to make him mad,” Esme said truthfully.

  “If you spoke to him the way you spoke to me yesterday, I’d walk away from you too.”

  Esmeralda winced, but she knew that she deserved that.

  She stepped closer to Rayna and held out her hand again.

  “You’re right about that. I was wrong to get angry with you for just trying to be nice to me. When people mention Chris I tend to go nuclear. I’d like to start over, if you’ll allow it.”

  Rayna looked at her outstretched hand for a second before she spoke.

  “Axel told you what I did to the Blazin’ Eagles?”

  Esme nodded.

  “And you still got in my face? Even though you knew I’d killed grown men two times your size?”

  Esmeralda smiled.

  “I told you the truth yesterday, Rayna Claire. Nothing can hurt me now. Not even you.”

  Slowly, Rayna began to smile, too.

  Rayna snatched her hand up and tugged her into a hug, her skinny arms squeezing Esmeralda tightly.

  “I’ve gotta respect the hell out of that,” She admitted.

  “Women are fuckin’ weird,” Slayer muttered from behind them.

  Esme glanced at him before Rayna motioned towards the clubhouse.

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him he looked just fine to me,” She said.

  Rayna’s smile widened.

  “And does he?”

  Suddenly, Esmerelda didn't feel like she should be talking about that, with anyone.

  “I shouldn’t be talking about this,” She said so only Rayna could hear her.

  Rayna frowned and placed a hand on Esme’s back.

  “What? Why?”

  Esmeralda’s eyes closed as she shook her head.

  “I’m a married woman.”

  Rayna didn't say anything until Esme opened her eyes, and when she finally did make eye contact, Rayna’s eyes were misty.

  “You can’t hold onto his memory forever, baby. Chris wouldn't want that,” She said sadly.

  Esmeralda knew that.

  She fucking knew it, and she wished it was just as easy for her heart to understand.

  She didn't wear a ring and she didn't have his brand, but he was still her husband.

  Chris Wilder was still, at least in her head, her old man.

  “I feel guilty,” Esmeralda admitted.

  Rayna pulled her into her side and walked her back towards the clubhouse.

  “You know you can talk to me, right?”

  “I don’t want to bring you down. You’re planning a wedding, and I don't want to taint the experience for you,” Esmeralda said as she motioned towards the tables with the tulle and invitations.

  Rayna scoffed and pulled her down into a chair beside her at the first small round table they saw. It

  had a pile of invitations on it, all with her and Fury’s information, yet all designed differently.

  She lifted one into her hands and admired the sleek cursive font.

  “This one is really lovely,” She said softly.

  Rayna’s hand landed on top of hers, and Esmeralda paused.

  “I don’t know what it’s like to lose my old man, but I did lose my father. He was killed right in front of me, and trust me when I tell you, I understand.”

  Esmeralda huffed out a breath.

  Maybe Rayna could help her move on. Maybe she could help Esme find some happiness of her own.

  “What do I do now?,” She asked.

  Rayna sat back in her chair, taking the invitation with her.

  Esmeralda watched her slap it against her bare thigh a couple of times before she shrugged.

  “I could use some help planning this wedding. The boys try, but they don’t know the difference between ivory and eggshell.”

  Esmeralda’s heart stalled in her chest…

  Can I do that?

  Could she help Rayna Claire plan her wedding, so soon after hers almost literally went up in smoke?

  Trepidation practically knocked her on the back of the head as she turned to look at Rayna before she said, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  And she wasn't even lying.

  Yet, even as her eyes met Rayna’s, she could have sworn she saw the shadow of her long lost husband in a darkened corner of the room, smiling in her direction.

  Chapter 7

  Prettyboy knew he shouldn't be listening outside Esmeralda’s bedroom door.

  He fucking knew that, and yet, there he stood; like some night stalker.

  Like someone who knew her, which he was perfectly aware that he did not.

  He hadn’t even intended to end up there outside of her room, as if he were welcome.

  He’d been on his way back to his own room after grabbing a beer from the bar, when he’d heard her first scream.

  Obviously, he thought she was in danger, so he’d clambered towards her room as fast as his injured leg would allow him to. Once he’d gotten there, he realized she was having a nightmare. He told himself that he should go back to his room. She’d probably dealt with them for a lot longer than one night, but for some reason, he just…couldn’t.

  Leave her, that is…

  How many times had one of his brothers helped him defeat the nightmares after his accident?

  How many times had they lain awake with him when he was in so much pain he couldn't even close his eyes?

  Fuck.

  Prettyboy slowly turned the knob to her bedroom door, knowing full well she would more than likely be pissed at him for invading her space.

  She’d been with them for three days, and while she'd apologized (profusely) for her outburst the first day she was there, she’d remained silent and private.

  For the most part.

  More than once he’d seen Green and Slayer doing their best to make her smile.

  He was fucking jealous, because he used to be able to woo any woman, and now he was lucky if one even breathed in his direction.

  She thinks I look fine, but she doesn't know the truth.

  Yeah, those words were still circling around in his head, and why wouldn't they? She was new, she was vibrant and so damn gorgeous. Prettyboy would do anything for a chance to have a woman like that, but if she saw him for what he really was, she’d be appalled.

  She’d be disgusted, just like he was every time he looked in a mirror.

  He would much rather let her imagine that he was whole.

  As he rounded the side of her bed, he noticed that she was wearing a yellow nightgown. It wasn't anything fancy, but he instantly liked the color.

  Vibrant, just like her.

  She was tossing and turning, her mouth downturned in a frown; her cheeks were wet, and she was softly murmuring something he couldn't understand.

  Gently, so as not to startle her, he sat down on the edge of her bed and whispered her name.

  “Esmeralda,” He whispered.

  She stirred, but she didn't awaken; instead, she moaned something in her sleep.

  Prettyboy pushed her long hair out of her face and said her name a little louder.

  “Esmeralda.”

  Her eyes jerked open and she blinked a couple of times.

  “Chris?,” She whispered shakily.

  Prettyboy winced as he shook his head.

  “No, Esmeralda. It’s Prettyboy. Y
ou were having a nightmare,” He said.

  He rubbed at his throat, trying to ease the slight ache as he stopped to make sure his bandana was in place.

  The last thing he wanted was to scare her with his face.

  She sat up, her curly locks falling all around her like a dark halo, and he had to actively remind himself to speak.

  To not stare at her like some tongue tied imbecile.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” She said.

  Her voice was husky from sleep and it had Prettyboy’s jaw clenching.

  “Don’t apologize. I was grabbin’ a drink when I heard you, I don’t think anyone else heard,” He assured her.

  Esmeralda groaned as she rubbed both of her hands over her face.

  “I’m embarrassed,” She admitted sheepishly.

  Prettyboy shook his head.

  “Don’t be. I’ve had my own fair share of nightmares,” He said as he moved to stand.

  She surprised him when she caught his wrist, stopped him from leaving.

  “The other day, I said something that… bothered you. I didn't know you’d had an accident. I’m sorry if I made you mad, I just…I don’t mind the way you look.”

  Prettyboy’s whole body went rigid at the mention of his accident.

  He didn't want to talk about it with her, but he couldn't fault her for not knowing. He was acting like an ass hole, and he had no logical reason for doing so.

  “I know. I wasn't mad at you,” He said.

  She moved to sit up straighter, and Prettyboy almost swallowed his own tongue when he caught a glimpse of her pearly white panties, some innocent lacy number that had his dick jumping and his throat going dry.

  “You were a little mad, I think. You walked away from me,” She said.

  Prettyboy grunted under his breath and started to pull away, but she moved her fingers lower until she was gripping his hand; her soft palm rubbing against his rough one had his heart thumping double time in his chest.

  “I didn't mean to leave you like that, but I don't like to talk about my scars. Or my accident.”

  His words were abrupt, curt. Rude.

  She didn't even flinch, but she did hang her head and release his hand.

  “I’m sure they're not that bad.”

  Prettyboy’s green eyes practically oozed bitterness as he looked at her.

  “You don’t know anything about them.”

  For the barest of moments he thought she would argue with him; the tense set of her shoulders and the way her cheeks heated told him she wanted to.

  She blinked a couple of times and he waited for the inevitable tongue-lashing he deserved- but it never came.

  “I suppose I don’t,” She said softly.

  Prettyboy, imagining there was nothing left to say, turned to leave and made it halfway across the room before she stopped him with her sultry voice.

  “Please lock the door behind you.”

  To make sure you don’t get back in.

  To make sure you can’t get to her.

  Prettyboy didn't show her the roiling emotions on his face as he closed her now locked bedroom door behind him. He kept on walking, even though the tightening sensation in his chest told him he’d made a mistake.

  Even though he practically yearned to turn around and face her again; without his bandana, without his own fear choking the life out of him.

  Prettyboy didn't know Esmerelda Quinn, but he wanted to.

  Fuck that, he wanted to learn every inch of her gorgeous skin; he wanted to familiarize himself with her mind.

  What makes her tick?

  What makes her hot?

  He didn't have the answers to those questions, and he was almost positive he shouldn’t even be thinking about her in that way, but he couldn't stop himself.

  He had no idea what he was going to do about it, either.

  Not a fucking clue…

  Chapter 8

  “My colors are burgundy, orange, and gold.”

  Esme tried to concentrate on what Rayna was telling her, but her head was in another universe. She was still replaying the night before in her head, and one question kept coming back to haunt her: Why did he come into my room?

  Not that she minded; if Esme was screaming her head off, obviously she was glad that someone woke her up, but why him?

  At every turn, Prettyboy seemed almost angry with her…so why would he try to help her?

  “Baby? You here with me?”

  Esme jumped in her seat, almost slipping right onto the freshly polished wooden floor beneath her.

  “I’m sorry, Rayna. I didn’t hear you, what did you say?,” She asked with a smile.

  Rayna eyed her for two seconds, a pile of fake flowers in her arms.

  Finally, she sat down in the chair across from Esmeralda and set the flowers down, blowing her blonde hair out of her face.

  “Talk to me, Esme. What’s going on? You’ve been distracted all morning,” Rayna said.

  Esme sighed and tucked her curly hair back behind her ears.

  “I know. I had a rough night,” She admitted.

  “You wanna tell me about it?”

  Esme decided that, yeah, she did want to talk about it.

  She looked around the clubhouse quickly, making sure they were alone- Lord, did Limit like to lurk- before she leaned closer to Rayna.

  “Do you know why Prettyboy is mad at me? Did I do something to make him dislike me?”

  Rayna’s eyes widened before she slowly shook her head.

  “No, I haven't heard anything. Is he still miffed about what happened the other day?”

  “Maybe, but I apologized. Last night, I guess I was having a bad nightmare and I was screaming…he woke me up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he came into my room and woke me up. Told me he’d had his fair share of nightmares, that he understood, but I don’t know…why would he help me if he doesn't like me?,” Esme wondered.

  Rayna didn't say anything for a long time.

  “Prettyboy’s had a hard time since the accident, Esme. He just…When I came here, I wasn’t the same girl the Blazin’ Eagles had kidnapped. I was different. I thought I was ruined, but it took all of the people here to make me feel better. To make me feel grounded, like I wasn’t lost out there in some dark abyss… I think he’s having a harder time because unlike my scars, his are on the outside. His are easily seen,” Rayna explained.

  Esme soaked all of that information in, mulled it over until she understood. At least, until she thought she could understand.

  “But, I don’t care about his scars.”

  Rayna smiled, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “You don’t?”

  “Why would I?”

  Rayna rested one of her cool hands on top of Esme’s as she practically bounced in her seat.

  “You’d be surprised how many women steer clear of him around here, just because he has scars, baby.”

  Esme nodded her head, because of course there would be women out there who were shallow enough to let something like that stop them from getting to know the man beneath. Esme had been determined to be one of them too, because at the end of the day, Axel would return for her and she would leave.

  She would go home, to…what?

  To an empty bedroom, an empty clubhouse filled with memories that hurt her?

  Memories that made her overwhelmed with grief every time she steps inside?

  Fuck, Axel sent her to stay with the Seven Deadlies so that she could avoid that. So that she could move on from all of that, so why fight the change?

  She could get to know the men and women on Ox’s lot and still leave them behind when the time came. Wouldn't it be a nice change to have friends? More people like Rayna that she could talk to, hang out with, enjoy her days with?

  Esmeralda Quinn couldn't deny the tiny tug she felt in her gut when Prettyboy’s green eyes landed on her, but that wasn’t fair to Chris…was it?

  “Esme, are y
ou okay?”

  Esme nodded.

  Spill your guts, Esme.

  “I’m thinking about Chris. Logically, I know I’m being foolish by holding on so hard, but I just…he was my first everything. He was my forever…It’s hard to let go,” She told Rayna.

  Rayna’s hold on her hand tightened as she nodded.

  “Sometimes forever doesn't last as long as we hope it will,” Rayna said sadly.

  Esme shifted in her seat so her knees were crossed before she sighed deeply and looked up at Rayna again.

  “Just hurts, ya know?”

  “I know, baby. What made you think of Chris?”

  Rayna’s tone told her she already knew where Esme’s head was at, but Esmeralda wasn’t quite sure how to say it out loud.

  How does one say that out loud, that they’re finally attracted to another man that isn’t their husband? Esme knew it was stupid of her to go around in circles about it, but while everyone was in their own versions of the current reality, half of her was still dancing with Chris on their wedding day six months prior.

  When she closed her eyes she could almost taste him on her breath; Esme could almost see his shadow around the clubhouse, following her, watching over her…

  Most of her heart knew it was wishful thinking, but the small sliver of her psyche that remained lucid was screaming at her to move on.

  To stop the agony that coursed through her like a second, third, pulse point.

  To allow the rest of her mind to catch up and catch on to the fact that Chris Wilder was no longer her old man. He was nothing but ash or dirt or dust, scattered to the wind just like their marriage vows and their promise of forever.

  “I want to get to know everyone here, even if I do leave.”

  “Everyone, or Prettyboy?”

  Rayna was smiling, but her question still made Esmeralda flinch.

  “I don’t know the answer to that, honestly.”

  Rayna shrugged as she stood and tugged on Esme’s hand to get her standing too.

  “Come on! Let’s get out of here and do something fun for a while. Fury’s been absolutely dreading our cake tasting, do you want to come with me instead? I have an appointment in town in about an hour,” Rayna said.

  Esme found herself smiling, even though the last time she’d been cake tasting her life was entirely different.