Chapter Twenty-Four - Red Wine & Real Talk
974 Words
The kitchen was filled with the gentle hum of soft pop music—something nostalgic and warm, the kind of song that made you sway without meaning to. The scent of garlic, thyme, and roasted vegetables floated through the air as Remy, Jules, and Evelyn moved around the kitchen like a well-oiled machine.
Evelyn stirred the sauce, sleeves rolled up, a glass of red wine nearby. Her cheeks were flushed—not just from the wine, but from something deeper. Something still lingering under her skin after last night.
Remy opened the oven to check the garlic bread, humming along to the chorus, while Jules leaned against the counter with her wine glass cradled in both hands, watching Evelyn with a grin.
"You know," Jules said, “I’ve got to say it.”
Evelyn looked up, curious. “Say what?”
“You,” Jules nodded toward her. “You’re different.”
Remy chimed in without turning. “She’s glowing. Like full-on radiant goddess level.”
Evelyn smiled, shy but unbothered. “I feel… more like myself lately. Or maybe like I’m finally becoming who I’m supposed to be.”
“That’s because,” Jules said, “you’re allowing yourself to live. To want. To feel. And also because your president has been looking at you like he’s already picturing a future.”
Evelyn bit her lip, turning back to the sauce just to hide the way her stomach flipped.
“Oh, don’t play coy now,” Remy said with a smirk as she shut the oven. “We all know what’s happening. It started out sweet. Slow. Gentle touches, soft kisses.”
Jules sipped her wine, eyes dancing. “And now we’re entering Phase Two.”
Evelyn arched a brow. “Phase Two?”
Remy stepped over with a fresh glass of wine and topped off Evelyn’s. “The shift from kisses and light petting… to orgasms.”
Evelyn nearly choked. “Remy—!”
Jules laughed. “Don’t listen to her. She’s not wrong, but she’s not subtle either.”
Remy grinned, unapologetic. “I’m just saying it how it is. Ronan’s careful. Always has been. But the man’s past the point of control now. Which means you are about to enter a very specific stretch of time where your clothes stay on… until they don’t.”
Evelyn’s cheeks flushed deeper, but she didn’t deny it.
Remy leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s going to learn your body. Really learn it. And he’s not going to stop until he’s wrung every last sound out of you.”
Jules added with a softer tone, “And it’s not just about s*x. You’re not some passing phase for him. You’re the kind of woman a man like that waits for. Tests. Worships. Makes sure you’re aching for it before he ever takes what you’re willing to give.”
Evelyn stared into her glass. “It’s already happening… that ache.”
Remy grinned. “That’s the mark of a good man. When the build-up alone makes you need.”
Jules bumped her shoulder gently. “When it happens, it’ll be right. And I promise you—he’s going to make it unforgettable.”
The music shifted to something even softer. The sauce bubbled behind them. Laughter spilled into the air like steam.
And Evelyn?
She felt ready.
Not rushed. Not pushed.
Just… ready to fall even deeper.
The hallway outside Ronan’s office was quiet, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the kitchen just a faint echo. Inside, the mood was different. He and Maddox stood over a map laid out across the desk—markings, pins, and notes scrawled in black ink.
“They’re sniffing around,” Maddox said, voice low but sharp. “Reed’s boys. Been seen twice this week near the south end of our territory. One at a garage asking questions. Another near the bar just… lingering.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened. “Anyone talk?”
“No one.” Maddox crossed his arms. “They know better. Our people have kept their mouths shut.”
Ronan nodded slowly, running a hand over his beard. “They’re desperate.”
“Yeah,” Maddox said. “But they’re not reckless. Not yet. Which tells me they’re scared. Not just of you—but of him.”
Ronan looked up.
Maddox gave a knowing smirk. “Word is Reed’s slipping. Losing grip. There’s friction inside the club. Loyalty thinning. Some of his men are talking. Asking questions. Wondering if the old man’s still fit to lead.”
Ronan stayed silent for a beat, then said, “He’s ruled that club like a tyrant for too long. The minute they see blood, they’ll turn.”
“Exactly. So we wait,” Maddox said. “Let it rot from the inside. Let Reed keep trying to force a grip while it slips through his hands. We hold the line. We protect our people. And when the cracks break wide open?”
Ronan’s eyes darkened. “We take him down. For good.”
Maddox gave a slow nod. “No war unless it’s clean. Precise. No body count we don’t need.”
Ronan’s voice was steel. “We’ll do it right. But make no mistake—he’s finished.”
A heavy silence followed, filled only by the low tick of the wall clock.
Then Ronan added, quieter this time, “She can’t know yet.”
Maddox didn’t have to ask who. “She won’t. Not until it’s time.”
Ronan leaned over the desk, both hands braced on the edge, his head bowed.
“She’s finally breathing again,” he said. “I’m not letting her feel the weight of that man’s shadow ever again.”
Maddox gave a firm nod. “Then we’ll make damn sure she never has to.”
- Writer
