One Night With The Biker

Chapter 1

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.

I used to believe that too.

My name is Summer Rivers.

I’m twenty-eight years old, the eldest daughter of Leonard and Tina Rivers, and the proud big sister of the most dramatic human being on the planet, my twenty-four-year-old sister, Star.

Growing up, my parents gave us a life many people wished they had. We weren’t billionaires, but we never lacked anything. Dad owned a successful architectural consulting firm, while Mom taught literature at a private high school for nearly twenty years.

Our home wasn’t perfect.

No family ever was.

But it was filled with laughter, Sunday dinners, birthdays that somehow always became neighborhood parties, and parents who loved us fiercely.

If there was one thing they taught me, it was that love wasn’t something you found every day.

When you found it…

You held onto it.

Maybe that was why I loved Ethan the way I did.

Completely.

Unconditionally.

With every stubborn little piece of my heart.

I had met Ethan Carter during my second year at university.

I was running late for a design presentation that carried almost forty percent of my semester grade. Armed with two sketch tubes, a laptop bag, an iced coffee, and far too much confidence, I had rounded a corner much too quickly.

Straight into him.

Coffee had exploded everywhere.

Mostly on him.

His white shirt had never stood a chance.

I had been absolutely horrified.

He had somehow laughed.

Not the irritated laugh of someone whose day had just been ruined.

A genuine one.

By the end of that week, he had asked me out for coffee.

By the end of that month, we were inseparable.

And by graduation…

I couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have Ethan in it.

Eight years later, I still couldn’t.

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.

Tomorrow marked two years since Ethan and I had exchanged vows.

Two wonderful years.

Two years of learning each other’s habits.

Two years of growing together.

Two years of waiting.

Waiting because Ethan had made one request before we got married.

Children.

Not immediately.

He wanted us to enjoy marriage first.

Travel.

Build our careers.

Strengthen our foundation.

Then, after our second anniversary…

We would finally start trying for a baby.

I hadn’t loved that idea at first.

I had adored children for as long as I could remember.

Whenever relatives visited with babies, I had always been the first to volunteer to hold them.

I had spent half my childhood pretending my dolls were real infants.

Even now, every time I designed a nursery for a client, I secretly imagined creating one for my own child someday.

Still…

Marriage was compromise.

And Ethan had promised the wait would be worth it.

Tomorrow was the day we had been waiting for.

Lena smiled knowingly.

“You’ve got that look.”

“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…

Hidden inside my handbag was a tiny pair of knitted baby socks I had bought weeks ago.

A silly little gift.

Not because I was pregnant.

Because I hoped I soon would be.

Tomorrow wasn’t just our anniversary.

To me…

It felt like the beginning of the family we had dreamed about.

“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 need to go somewhere,” I said.