“Alex.” I’m desperately striving for patience. “If I change my mind, I’ll get in my car and go wherever I damn well please. What do you think Z’s going to do, keep me prisoner here?”

“You never know.”

A couple hours later, I send Alex home and text Z to let him know I’m on my way to the clubhouse.

The area’s still unfamiliar to me and I miss the turn for the clubhouse twice before finally steering us down the right road.

“Daddy!” Chance yelps as I pull into the parking lot.

Z’s waiting out front, talking to a brother I don’t recognize.

He lifts his head at my arrival and continues his conversation while making his way over to the car.

“Is it okay to park here?” I ask as I step out.

“It’s fine. Lilly, do you remember Rooster?”

“I think so.” I offer my hand and he gives it a quick shake.

“Things are quiet this afternoon.” He taps the back window and waves at Chance.

“Good.” Sure, the last party I attended there were people basically fucking on every surface in the clubhouse. Certainly not child-appropriate. I glance at my son, wondering how well the clubhouse is cleaned in between parties.

Z carries Chance into the clubhouse. During the day, when the place isn’t swimming in debauchery, it almost looks like the old hotel it used to be. Under the smoky scent clinging to the air, a whiff of chlorine and something musky lingers.

I sneeze and Z raises his eyebrow. “You feel okay?”

“Just dust or something.”

To the left, there’s a small office. Z sets Chance down inside and explains this is where he spends a lot of time working.

My gaze runs over the small, neat space. Desk covered with papers. Filing cabinets. Another small table in the corner. A couple of broken-in chairs.

“So organized,” I tease. The files on his desk seem to be neatly stacked and arranged.

“I’ll give Sway that. He’s not prone to clutter.”

My roaming eyes land on a stack of envelopes and a bronze letter opener.

The air in my lungs stutters and the room spins. I fall back against the door jamb, clutching my chest.

“Lilly? What’s wrong?”

“Mommy?” Chance cries. His little hands tug at my pants, pulling me out of the panic threatening to drag me under.

I gasp and struggle for breath. I haven’t had an attack like that in…years. Why does it have to happen now?

“Lilly, are you okay?” Z asks again. He places a hand on each of my shoulders, forcing me to meet his concerned eyes.

I sniffle and pat my chest. “Must be allergies or something. Sorry. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me for at least a minute. “What do you need?”

I have no idea.

Z

Allergies my ass.