Marrying My Best Friend's Sister: A Billionaire Enemies to Lovers MC Romance (Secret Love) Nikki Bloom (read book .TXT) 📖

is to come out with a specific time frame that you will be married, and agree on what’s allowed and what isn’t. In other words, the parameters of your marriage. Are you going to have sex?” He leaned forward confidentially. “I’d tick the yes column on that one.”

“Wouldn’t that just make things more complicated?”

“It’d be less complicated than vowing to be celibate your entire marriage or explaining to a third party why you’re sleeping around.”

I could well imagine that Dom would want the particulars of our marriage kept confidential. Me too for that matter. “Mm, good point.”

“Besides, don’t even act like you don’t want to.”

“I don’t!” I could feel my face flaming at his accusations. Just because Domenic Cliff was considered one of New York’s sexiest bachelors did not mean that every girl was dying to drop their panties for him. At least I wasn’t. But there was an argument to be made for keeping our relationship monogamous. Discretion most of all.

I wonder if Dom would see it that way.

If I was a betting woman, my money would be on nope.

“Also, if you need him to do specific things for you, then you should stipulate that.”

“Specific things like what?”

‘Well, if you need him for your grant, I assume you’d like to parade him around? Maybe dinners or benefits? I don’t know how these things are done.”

“Well, there’s the annual FDA dinner at the end of the month. I suppose it couldn’t hurt if he was seen with me there.”

“Exactly. Those are the kind of things you should include in your contract. Also, if you want to have separate rooms, an allowance, and of course, the usual provisos for any prenup.”

I leaned towards him pleadingly. “Would you write something up for me?”

Chaz shook his head. “I don’t think I could do you justice. But I could give you a recommendation.”

I didn’t think I could go through this again with someone else. “I trust you.”

“Fine. You want to put your fate in my inexperienced hands, it’s your funeral.”

I straightened up with delight and threw my hands around his neck. “Thank you so much, Chaz!”

5

Domenic

I felt the need to go out and celebrate, seeing as this might be my last week of freedom. The Red Room had no regard for which day of the week it was; every night was a party night. I didn’t normally indulge in the midweek shenanigans whatever Leyland might say, but like I said: last week of freedom, possibly.

I hadn’t spoken to Nicolette yet, though she’d texted me that she’d taken some legal counsel and he was drawing up an agreement. I hadn’t yet told Leyland. I thought it best to wait and see what she came up with.

It all felt rather surreal to me still.

I changed out of my work clothes into black jeans and a black leather jacket. A Led Zeppelin tee completed the look. Pushing my hair back, I smiled at my reflection. “Well, aren’t you a handsome son of a gun?”

“Well, aren’t you a conceited son of a gun?” Morgan said as he leaned against the door jamb, arms folded, smiling at me.

I turned to grin at him. “I’m nothing if not self-aware.”

“Where are you off to?” He straightened up and came to sit on my bed.

“We. Where are we going?”

“Okay, I’ll bite; where are we going?” He smirked at me.

“The Red Room.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What? It’s Tuesday.”

“And?” I picked up my wallet and put it in my back pocket. “Let’s go.”

Morgan sighed but made no demur. We took the elevator down to the garage and got on our motorbikes. We might have left the club life behind, but the Harleys are forever.

For a Tuesday night, the club was jumping. I had expected only the hardcore partiers to be present, but there was quite a crowd. I guess a lot of people had the same idea.

I pointed to my glass and the bartender promptly refilled it. As I lifted it to my lips, my hand froze halfway as I caught sight of someone in the bar mirror. Morgan’s sister was on the dance floor, clad in a tiny leather miniskirt, thigh-high boots, and a black vest, shimmying down some guy’s torso.

Well, I guess we had the same idea.

My lips twisted wryly as I watched her. Her asymmetrically bobbed, silky smooth chestnut hair was falling across her face, obscuring it from sight and so I couldn’t see her expression. By the way her svelte body swayed with liquid grace, I deduced she was having a good time. I took a look at the guy she was dancing with and snorted.

Surely she can do better than that.

He was a big, bear-like guy, wearing a patch on his black leather vest. His paunch stuck out in his white t-shirt while his long, curly hair was tied back with a kerchief. What the hell he was doing in the Red Room was the question. As far as I knew, New York motorcycle clubs tended to stick to their own haunts, just like they did in New Orleans. I cast my eyes around, looking for Morgan. He’d spotted likely prey some time ago and had gone a-hunting. I suppose it was none of my business what his sister did (yet), but I wanted her away from bikers.

I shrugged, getting to my feet, and used my height and breadth to cut a swathe through the crowd on the dancefloor. I grabbed her arm as I came up alongside her and pulled her away from him.

The biker dude narrowed his eyes at me, a beefy hand stretching to stop me from pulling her away. She looked up in surprise, hazel eyes widening as she recognized me.

“Dom!” she exclaimed.

“Nico. What are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “As far as I know, it’s a free country.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “So?”

The bear pushed me away from her. “Hey, find your own girl,” he growled.

I waited for Nico to protest this blatant