The Bikers Lord Revenge Bride

Chapter 2

FIVE YEARS LATER

KAEL DRAVEN VEYNE

"It's the sixteenth."

I flick open my lighter and watch the flame dance between my fingers. The man kneeling in front of me immediately flinches, like he thinks I am actually going to set him on fire. My men have both his arms held behind his back, yet he is still trying to explain why he has not paid me.

"Your money is coming, Reaper. I swear."

I let out a slow breath and snap the lighter shut.

"That's what you said last month."

He swallows.

I stare at him for a few seconds before asking, "Do I look stupid to you?"

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. I wait until he finally drops his eyes.

"That's what I thought."

I never wanted to handle this myself. Normally, I send Roderic, my Sergeant at Arms, to collect debts. He is much better at dealing with idiots like this. Unfortunately, I had two choices tonight. I could come here and collect my money, or I could go home and listen to my father spend another hour talking about Lady Serilda Rowan.

That woman has been chasing me for months.

She is beautiful, wealthy, and the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the city. Apparently, she has decided that I am the man she wants to marry.

Out of everyone in my family, she could have chosen Lucien. My polished twin. The responsible one. The son my father loves to show off at business dinners and charity events.

But no.

She wants me.

I cannot even blame her. She clearly has good taste.

But marrying someone just because our families want to combine their businesses and money? No chance. I would rather stay single for the rest of my life.

"Garrick."

I call my Vice President without looking back. A moment later, he walks over and stops beside me.

"Where's my brother?"

"At the opening of Veyne Atelier."

Of course.

Lucien handles the respectable side of Veyne Holdings. He attends meetings, gives interviews, appears in magazines, shakes hands with investors, and smiles for cameras. He is everything our father wants the public to see.

I handle the other side.

The Blackthorn Riders are mine, along with the business that comes with them. I do not spend much time worrying about whether people approve of what I do.

Now Lucien has Veyne Atelier, the newest fashion house under Veyne Holdings. Apparently, he has become obsessed with fashion.

Funny. I thought I was the one in this family with expensive hobbies.

Garrick hands me a clean cloth, and I wipe the blood from the small cut on my cheek.

Nothing serious.

The i***t simply got lucky.

I pull on my black leather jacket and look down at the man still kneeling in front of us.

"Rough him up a little," I tell Garrick. "Then let him go."

The man's entire face changes with relief.

"Reaper, thank you. I owe you my life."

"Oh, you do."

I crouch slightly and give him a slow smile.

"Don't forget that. If I don't have my money by the end of the month, I'll come back for you myself."

His face turns pale.

Good.

I leave the building and climb onto Nightfang, my motorcycle. Some days, she is just a bike. On other days, she is the closest thing I have to a loyal companion.

I ride straight to Veyne Atelier and park outside the entrance. When the valet approaches, I toss him the keys.

"Take good care of her."

"Of course, sir."

He looks nervous.

He has probably heard the stories about me.

People like to call me the dangerous Veyne brother. The bad one. The brother with tattoos, a motorcycle, a temper, and a reputation that makes respectable people uncomfortable.

Personally, I think I am pretty easygoing.

Lucien is the uptight one.

My identical twin is still annoyed because Lady Serilda once told someone that I was the better looking brother. Apparently, he has not recovered from that insult.

I still think it is hilarious.

But you didn't hear that from me.

What can I say? Long hair, tattoos, a motorcycle, and a reputation that makes women curious.

It has worked for me so far.

I walk into Veyne Atelier and take a look around.

I have to admit, Lucien did a good job.

The place looks expensive without trying too hard. The lighting is perfect, the furniture is sleek, and every little detail screams money.

His taste in interiors is impressive.

His taste in women is questionable.

The main hall is packed with wealthy guests, business owners, celebrities, investors, and people who are smiling at each other while secretly wondering what they can get from one another.

A few people greet me as I walk through.

"Mr. Veyne."

"Good evening, Kael."

"Nice to see you."

I give them brief nods and keep moving.

I did not come here to socialize.

Then I see Vona.

Lucien's assistant.

The moment she notices me, she stops.

Her cheeks turn pink as she pushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She tries to look professional, but her eyes keep moving over me.

Interesting.

She must be good at her job. She has lasted three months with Lucien, which makes her his longest lasting assistant.

But judging by the way she is looking at me, professionalism disappears whenever I walk into the room.

"Kael," she says softly, giving me a smile. "Lucien wasn't expecting you tonight."

"Does that mean he won't let me see him?"

I raise an eyebrow.

She laughs.

"He was actually hoping you'd come. He's busy with some guests, but I know you're not interested in all that."

She steps closer.

Her fingers brush against my arm.

"If you want, we could..."

I laugh before she can finish.

It is not a polite laugh.

It is loud enough that the couple standing beside us turns to look.

Vona immediately pulls her hand away.

I gently remove her fingers from my arm.

"I'd rather not."

Her smile fades.

Before she can say anything else, I walk away.

It takes less than ten minutes for me to remember why I hate these events. I would rather spend the night riding my motorcycle or dealing with criminals than stand around talking to rich people who pretend to like one another.

I make small talk with a few people, but Lucien is nowhere to be found.

Fine.

I give up.

If my brother wants to hide from me all night, that's his problem.

I head toward the bar.

At least alcohol never disappoints me.

I take a seat at the far end and signal the bartender.

"Give me whatever you've got that's strongest."

He nods and starts making my drink.

I lean back and watch the crowd.

That is when I see her.

She is sitting alone.

She is not talking to anyone, and she does not seem interested in the people around her. Her dark curls fall over her shoulders, and one hand rests around her glass as she stares down at her drink.

Everyone else in the room is laughing, talking, and trying to impress someone.

She looks like she would rather be somewhere else.

I do not know why, but I keep watching her.

Maybe it is the way she sits so quietly in the middle of all that noise.

Maybe it is the fact that she looks completely uninterested in everyone around her.

Whatever it is, I cannot look away.

The bartender puts my drink in front of me.

I take it.

Then I find myself walking toward her.

"Seat taken?"

I point at the empty stool beside her.

She does not even look at me.

"Depends."

I smile.

"On what?"

"On whether you plan to talk."

A quiet laugh escapes me.

"That depends. Do you plan to listen?"

That gets her attention.

She finally looks at me.

And for a second, I forget what I was going to say.

Her eyes are hazel. Sharp hazel. There is a tiny beauty mark beneath her left eye, and something about the combination makes it difficult to look away.

She studies my face as though she is trying to figure me out.

Then she turns back to her drink.

"Suit yourself."

I sit beside her.

"Have we met before?"

She finishes her drink before looking at me again.

Her expression tells me she is already getting bored.

"That's your line?"

I raise an eyebrow.

She gives me a small, amused smile.

"Disappointing. I expected more from the great Lucien Veyne."

I almost laugh.

She thinks I'm Lucien.

And for some reason, I decide not to correct her.