One Night With The Biker

Summer’s POV The first thing people noticed about me was usually my smile. They always said it made me look like someone who had never had a bad day in her life. Maybe that was why no one would have believed me if I told them that, by the end of the day, that smile would be the last thing on my mind. I stepped out of the boutique with a small shopping bag dangling from my fingers and glanced down at my watch. I was running late. Not terribly late. Just enough to make me mentally rearrange the rest of my evening for the third time. Inside the bag was a burgundy slip dress I had spent nearly twenty minutes pretending I wasn’t going to buy. It was elegant. Simple. And just provocative enough to make Ethan stare. I smiled at the thought. Tomorrow marked our second wedding anniversary. Two years of marriage. Eight years since the day I’d accidentally covered a stranger’s white shirt in iced coffee at university and somehow ended up falling in love with him. Eight years. Sometimes it still felt impossible. My fingers tightened around the shopping bag. Tonight was supposed to be special. Tomorrow wasn’t just another anniversary. It was the day Ethan and I had agreed we’d finally start trying for a baby. We had talked about it countless times. After two years of marriage, we’d said. After we’d travelled. After we’d settled into our careers. After we’d built a strong foundation. Then we’d start our family. I’d wanted children long before Ethan had been ready. I’d always imagined what it would feel like to hold my own baby, to decorate a nursery, to hear tiny footsteps running through a house that suddenly felt too quiet. And now, finally, the waiting was almost over. A tiny pair of knitted baby socks sat hidden inside my handbag. I’d bought them weeks ago. I knew it was ridiculous. I wasn’t pregnant. Not yet. But I’d seen them in a little baby boutique and hadn’t been able to walk away. They were so small. So impossibly tiny. I’d imagined placing them in Ethan’s hands tomorrow night and watching his face when he realized what I was trying to say. I smiled to myself. Tonight, I’d pick up the anniversary cake, stop by the florist, prepare Ethan’s favorite dinner, and set everything up before he came home. Then tomorrow… I shook my head, refusing to let myself get carried away. One day at a time. I walked toward my car and slipped into the driver’s seat. The Los Angeles morning was already busy, the streets filling with impatient drivers and people rushing toward work. I started the engine and pulled away from the curb. My thoughts drifted back to Ethan. They always did. I could still remember the first time we’d met. I had been late for a design presentation and carrying far too many things. Two sketch tubes. A laptop bag. An iced coffee. And far too much confidence. I’d rounded a corner without looking and walked straight into him. The coffee had exploded across his white shirt. Mostly on him. I had wanted the ground to swallow me whole. He had laughed. Actually laughed. And somehow, by the end of that week, he’d asked me out. By the end of that month, we’d become inseparable. I smiled at the memory. Eight years later, I still couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have Ethan in it. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the large dog sprinting across the road. “Wait!” My foot slammed down on the brake. The tires screeched. My coffee flew from the cup holder. The seat belt caught me hard against my chest. And the dog disappeared beneath the front of my car. My heart stopped. “Oh my God!” I threw the car into park and jumped out. “Please be okay. Please be okay…” I ran around the front of the car. The dog was standing. Standing. Completely unharmed. He shook his enormous brown-and-white body before trotting toward the sidewalk as though he hadn’t just taken ten years off my life. I pressed a hand against my chest. “Oh, thank God.” A deep roar suddenly filled the street. Then another. Then another. I turned. Three motorcycles were approaching. The riders wore black leather jackets, heavy boots and gloves. Their motorcycles rumbled down the street before coming to a stop near the sidewalk. My stomach tightened. Great. I had nearly killed someone’s dog. The bikers immediately got off their motorcycles. One of them hurried toward the dog. “Diesel!” The dog’s tail started wagging. He ran straight toward the man. The biker crouched down and ran both hands over him, checking his legs and body. “Are you okay?” I looked up. Another biker was standing in front of me. I blinked. “I’m fine.” His eyes moved over me, then toward my car. “You sure?” “Yes.” I swallowed. “I didn’t hit him. He just ran across the road.” The biker nodded. “Good.” He glanced toward Diesel. “That i***t has a habit of doing that.” The third biker laughed. “One day he’s going to give someone a heart attack.” I stared at Diesel. “He nearly gave me one.” The biker beside me chuckled. “Yeah. He does that.” I couldn’t help laughing. The panic slowly left my body. Only then did I notice the building behind them. It was impossible to miss. A large wooden entrance stood beneath a dark metal sign bearing the same emblem I’d seen stitched onto the bikers’ jackets. Several motorcycles were parked outside. Rows of them. Black. Chrome. Some old, some sleek and modern. The building itself looked nothing like the ordinary businesses surrounding it. It had the imposing presence of a fortress. A clubhouse. I looked back at the men. They certainly looked intimidating. But they were surprisingly calm. One of them was still rubbing Diesel’s head while another checked the front of my car for damage. “You really didn’t hurt him?” he asked. “No.” I shook my head. “I swear.” “Then you’re good.” “I’m sorry.” He smiled. “Don’t be. He’s the one who should be apologizing.” As if understanding him, Diesel barked. The men laughed. I smiled. “I should probably get going. I’m already going to be late.” “Then you better go.” I nodded. “Have a good day.” “You too.” I climbed back into my car. Before pulling away, I glanced once more at the strange building. The dark emblem above the entrance caught my attention. I wondered what happened behind those doors. Then I shook the thought away. I had an anniversary to prepare for. I drove away, completely unaware that I would eventually become far more familiar with that clubhouse than I ever could have imagined. By the time I reached Knight Constructions, the incident was already fading from my mind. Work had a way of doing that. The soft chime of my computer snapped me back to the present. I blinked at the design render glowing on my monitor before glancing at the time in the corner of my screen. Five o’clock. Finally. Outside my office window, the Los Angeles skyline shimmered beneath the late afternoon sun, painting the glass towers in shades of gold. Knight Constructions occupied one of those towers. Actually… It owned one. Forty-two floors of architects, engineers, project managers, quantity surveyors, interior designers, and countless other brilliant people working together to build some of the most breathtaking structures in California. Working here had been my dream long before graduation. Not because my parents had connections. They didn’t. Every interview. Every portfolio review. Every sleepless night spent perfecting presentations… I had earned this job myself. And I was proud of that. As Senior Interior Designer, I spent my days transforming empty spaces into homes, hotels, restaurants, and offices people actually wanted to spend time in. There was something magical about taking concrete walls and giving them warmth. A room wasn’t just furniture. It was a feeling. I loved creating feelings. “Leaving already?” Lena leaned against my office door with an amused smile. She had become my closest friend since joining Knight Constructions two years earlier. Where I preferred quiet evenings and carefully planned weekends, Lena collected adventures the way some people collected shoes. She was loud. Fearlessly honest. Completely incapable of whispering. And somehow… She balanced me. “I told Sam I’d finish these drawings tomorrow,” I said, shutting down my computer. She narrowed her eyes dramatically. “You’ve never left work before six in your life.” “I have.” She folded her arms. “Name one time.” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. She grinned triumphantly. “I knew it.” I laughed despite myself. “Today’s different.” Her expression softened. “The anniversary.” I nodded. “You’ve got that look,” Lena said. “What look?” “The one that says you’ve already planned the next twenty-four hours down to the last second.” I laughed. Maybe she wasn’t wrong. I still needed to pick up the anniversary cake. Stop by the florist. Finish preparing Ethan’s favorite dinner. And… My hand drifted toward my handbag. The tiny pair of knitted baby socks was still inside. A silly little gift. “Go,” Lena said, waving me away. “And don’t answer work emails tonight.” “I’ll try.” “No. Promise.” “I promise.” I had barely taken three steps toward the elevators when my phone rang. I glanced down at the screen. Unknown number. I almost ignored it. Almost. Something about the call made me stop. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was the fact that the number had no name attached to it. Or maybe I was simply curious. I answered. “Hello?” Silence. I frowned. “Hello?” There was breathing on the other end. Very faint. Then the call disconnected. I lowered the phone from my ear. “Okay…” Lena glanced back at me. “Who was that?” “I don’t know.” “Unknown number?” I nodded. She immediately looked suspicious. “Did they say anything?” “No.” “Then why did they call?” “I have no idea.” My phone vibrated in my hand. A message. I looked down. There was no name attached to it. Just the same unknown number. For a second, I thought it was probably spam. Then I saw the attachment. An image. My thumb hovered over the screen. I opened it. And everything inside me went still. The picture showed Ethan. My husband. He was standing inside what appeared to be an airport terminal. Beside him stood Natasha. His personal assistant. His hand was around her waist. Her body was pressed against his. And although the picture had been taken from a distance, there was no mistaking the expression on Ethan’s face. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the world. My stomach turned. I stared at the photograph. Once. Twice. Then again. Maybe it was edited. Maybe it was taken out of context. Maybe Natasha had stumbled and Ethan had caught her. Maybe… My phone vibrated again. Another message appeared beneath the photograph. “Go to the airport.” “See for yourself.” My fingers went cold. I immediately pressed call. The number rang once. Twice. Three times. Then the call ended. I called again. This time, the line went straight to voicemail. I tried a third time. The number was no longer available. I stared at the screen. My heart had begun beating too hard. Too quickly. Lena had stopped a few feet away. “Summer?” I looked up. She was studying my face. “What happened?” I locked my phone. “Nothing.” Her eyebrows rose. “That was definitely not a nothing face.” “I just got a weird message.” “What kind of weird message?” I hesitated. I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t even know what I had seen. The photograph had been clear. Too clear. But a photograph was not a conversation. It wasn’t proof of an affair. It wasn’t proof of anything. Ethan loved me. Ethan had been married to me for two years. Ethan had spent eight years of his life with me. He had met my parents. He had held my hand through the worst days of my life. He had stood across from me in a church and promised to love me. He was currently on a business trip. With his personal assistant. That was all. The picture meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. I tightened my grip around my phone. Then I looked toward the elevators. I needed to see him. I needed to hear the truth from his own mouth. “I need to go somewhere,” I said.