Not His Old Lady Anymore

Fiona POV:

I walked quickly down the cool hallway, the sound of my heels clicking on the concrete like a frantic heartbeat.

Heavy footsteps followed, and then Craig's hand clamped around my wrist. His grip was tight enough to bruise.

I was forced to stop and face him. His face was a mask of fury, his light brown eyes burning. "Fiona, what the hell was that?"

"What do you think it was?" I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip was like steel.

"The guest quarters? That place is for outsiders!" he snarled, keeping his voice low, clearly worried about the brothers outside.

"Isn't she an outsider?" I shot back coldly. "A sweetbutt with no patch, and you want her in the main residence? On the same hall as your Old Lady?"

The word 'patch' was everything in our world. It separated us from them.

"She's different!" Craig's voice rose. "She and Cody saved my life on the road! They're homeless because of me! I promised Cletus I'd take care of them!"

Cletus Burke. I'd heard the name. A homesteader who had, in fact, saved a wounded Craig during a clash with a rival club, The Vipers.

"So, to repay a man's kindness, you bring his daughter—or whatever she is to you—home to live with me?"My voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I'm not asking her to live with you!" he snapped, finally letting go of my wrist to rake a hand through his short blond hair. "I just want to give them a safe place! A decent place!"

"And the guest quarters aren't safe or decent? They have private bathrooms and daily cleaning. It's better than what some of the brothers have."

"It's not the same!" he insisted stubbornly. "I want her in the empty room on the third floor."

My heart stopped. The room on the third floor. The one directly across the hall from our bedroom.

This wasn't a challenge anymore. It was a declaration of war.

I looked at him and almost laughed. I managed all the club's businesses, the clean and the dirty, for him. And this was my reward. He was moving another woman and her child in across the hall.

"No," I said, the word clear and final.

Craig's expression turned dangerous. "Fiona, don't push me."

"Am I pushing you, or are you pushing me?" I stepped closer, meeting his gaze. "Craig Griffin, don't forget that I am your Old Lady, recognized by the Serpents of Redemption. What you're doing is a slap in my face, and a slap in the face of this club."

I used the club's name, knowing it was the one thing he cared about most.

His anger wavered for a second, but he didn't back down. "This is my decision. I'm the President of this club I have the right to assign a room in this Clubhouse."

"But you don't have the right to put a sweetbutt in the main residence. That's an unwritten rule, and you know it."

We were at a stalemate, the air thick with tension.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. It was Ricky. He saw us and froze, looking awkward.

"Fiona... Craig..." he stammered. "Ms. Burke is... she's asking if her room is ready."

The question was a spark in a room full of gasoline.

Craig didn't look at me. He spoke directly to Ricky. "Go clean out the corner room on the third floor. For Ginger and Cody."

Ricky stared, his eyes flicking to me for help.

A sheet of ice formed around my heart. In front of an underling, Craig had just completely dismantled my authority, my word.

I didn't look at Ricky. I didn't argue with Craig anymore.

I just looked at him calmly and nodded. "Fine. Have it your way."

My surrender surprised him. He hadn't expected me to give up so easily.

I turned and walked back toward my office.

"Fiona, where are you going?" he asked, his voice suddenly uncertain.

I didn't turn around. I just kept walking.

"If you're so capable," I said over my shoulder, "then I'm sure you don't need me handling the club's finances anymore."