CRAVING THE WRONG MAN

LET'S HAVE IT

MIA

“Black Reign.”

The name drops between us so casually that for a second, I think I must have heard him wrong.

I stare at Rhett. “Black Reign?”

He gives me a small nod, his expression unreadable as he leans against the edge of the workbench. “Yes.”

“You're taking me there?”

“If that's what you want.”

There is no hesitation in his answer, and somehow that makes my chest tighten more than it should.

“If you don't want to go, you don't have to,” he adds. “I'm not forcing you into anything, Mia. You can stay here until you're strong enough to decide what you want to do, or you can come with me. Either way, the choice is yours.”

I stare at him for several seconds.

Choice.

That word feels strange now.

Saint had three years to make me feel like I belonged beside him, and somehow I always ended up feeling like something he had inherited along with the club.

Now Rhett is standing in front of me, offering me exactly what Saint never did.

A choice.

Silence stretches between us while I look around the room. I should be thinking about food or sleep or the ache still sitting beneath my ribs.

Instead, another thought slowly slips into my head.

It is daring.

More than daring, actually.

It is dangerous enough that the moment it takes shape, I know I should push it away.

I don't.

I sit there for another few seconds, turning it over in my mind until the idea becomes impossible to ignore. Then I push myself to my feet and stand up.

Pain pulls through my body immediately, and I wince before forcing myself upright.

Rhett notices.

His shoulders straighten. “What are you doing?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“You can ask from there.”

I take another step toward him, and his eyes follow me. I can feel the weight of his attention moving over me in a way that makes me suddenly aware of everything about myself—

I stop a few feet away from him. “I was thinking about something.”

Rhett raises his eyebrows but says nothing, and somehow that silence gives me enough courage to say what has been sitting in my head.

“I want to divorce Saint.”

His face changes and something darkens in his expression.

“The only legacy my father left me was Night Saints. He gave everything to Saint because he knew I loved him. I was his only child, and after he died, he didn’t want me left alone. He wanted someone strong enough to protect me, so he made Saint promise to marry me. In exchange, Saint would inherit the club and become president.”

My hands tighten at my sides as the old truth settles bitterly in my chest.

“But there was something Saint never knew.”

Rhett’s gaze stays fixed on me.

“My father put a condition into the club charter. Saint can run the businesses that fund Night Saints, but he can’t transfer ownership, sell major assets, acquire outside businesses, or enter certain external agreements without my signature. He needs me for all of it.”

Rhett’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Your father made you a silent controlling partner.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“And Saint doesn’t know?”

“No.”

A slow silence settles between us.

Then Rhett asks, “So what? You want to take back your father’s club because a man chose another woman?”

The question hits somewhere much deeper than I expect. My fingers curl into fists, and I swallow hard before forcing myself to meet his eyes.

“No. I’m not taking back the club.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Saint will ruin it himself.”

His expression remains unreadable.

“I just want something.” I meet his eyes. “Let’s have a contractual relationship.”

For the first time since I have known him, Rhett actually looks stunned. I almost lose my nerve when I see the disbelief settle over his face, but I force myself to continue.

“I’ll be your old lady.”

His eyes widen slightly before narrowing again, as though he is trying to decide whether I have finally lost my mind.

“You didn’t just say that.”

“Oh, I did.”

I step closer.

Rhett doesn’t move.

The distance between us shrinks until I can see every detail of his face—the dark stubble along his jaw, the tiny scar near his eyebrow, and the tattoos disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt.

His eyes drop briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

The movement is so quick that I could pretend I imagined it, but I know I didn’t.

Something warm moves through my stomach.

“You can’t be serious,” he says.

“I am.”

“Mia, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

“You’re asking me to make you my old lady.”

“Contractually.”

His jaw tightens. “That doesn’t make it less complicated.”

“Maybe not.”

I take another small step, and now there is barely any space between us. I have to tilt my head slightly to look up at him, and the atmosphere between us changes so quickly that my heart begins beating harder.

There is hunger in his eyes.

It isn't the way Saint ever looked at me. This feels different, rawer and far more controlled.

I should step back. Instead, I stay exactly where I am.

“I don't do old lady's, Mia. That's my rule”

“You don’t do old ladies?” I repeat softly.

“Yes.” His voice drops lower. “If I wanted an old lady, it would have happened a long time ago.”

A smile slowly pulls at my lips.

“Or it wouldn’t have happened because you still couldn’t bring yourself to want someone else.”

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Rhett goes completely still.

For a moment, I expect my confidence to disappear, but something reckless inside me makes me hold his gaze. We’re close enough now that I can feel the warmth coming from his body, and when my eyes drift downward, I take in the broadness of his chest beneath the black shirt, the ink stretching across his skin, and the heavy muscles in his shoulders and arms.

Three years ago, I thought Rhett was handsome. Now, standing this close to him, handsome feels like a painfully inadequate word.

He catches me looking, and the faintest curve touches his mouth.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I know.”

“And you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Maybe I do.”

His eyes darken, and for one strange second, I wonder what would happen if I closed the last inch between us. The thought sends heat crawling up my neck, and suddenly I’m painfully aware that I’m actually flirting with Rhett—Saint’s older brother, the president of Black Reign, and the man everyone says is ruthless enough to make grown men reconsider their choices.

Somehow, instead of being afraid, I’m curious.

Maybe that is the most dangerous part.

Rhett leans slightly closer, but he doesn’t touch me.

“What are you getting out of this?” he asks.

I blink. “What?”

“If I actually consider this ridiculous contractual relationship, what exactly do you get from it?”

His voice is calm again, but his eyes remain fixed on mine.

I know exactly what I want. I just haven't said it aloud yet.

I take a breath and let myself smile. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

I step back just enough to breathe properly, although some part of me misses the heat of being that close to him.

“Well, you could say I want protection. You really don't have to know my agenda”

He folds his arms across his chest, and the movement draws my eyes to his arms before I force them back to his face.

“And what does Black Reign get?”

I smile. “Me.”

His jaw flexes. “That isn’t an answer.”

“It is what I have”

“Mia.”

“You asked what I get out of it. You didn’t ask what you get.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Then tell me what I get.”

I move closer again, slowly enough that he could stop me if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

“You get a legal connection to me, which means every business decision Saint wants to make that requires my signature can be challenged.”

His expression becomes more thoughtful. “And if Saint refuses?”

I look directly into his eyes. “He won’t.”

“You sound very sure.”

“Because Saint has no idea how much of my father’s club is still tied to me.”

Rhett says nothing, and I can almost feel the shape of the plan forming in my head, dangerous and brilliant and completely insane.

Then I look at him and finally give him the part that matters most.

“I don’t want to destroy Night Saints.”

His eyes remain on mine.

“I want the club to abandon Saint the same way he abandoned me.”

Rhett’s face changes as he finally understands exactly what I’m proposing.

“I want Night Saints to turn its back on its president,”