Before long, I’m ushered into a changing room and buried beneath a mountain of thin wisps of expensive fabric and little clasps and straps and bones and lace to try on. I don’t make a decision on anything, Tank makes it for me, and it’s far too much.

“Will that be all, Mr Whitecross?” Karina asks after she rings up the items.

“That’s all we need, darlin’,” he says, and he doesn’t bat an eyelid when she tells him the total. Me, on the other hand? I practically faint. He hands over the money, all cash. Tank never leaves a paper trail. I don’t even think he owns a bank account. He probably just stores all his money in several hollowed out old mattresses stashed somewhere on his property.

Karina passes Tank the bags and thanks him for his business, and then he’s ushering me out the door.

“How do you know her?” I ask Tank as the door closes behind us with the muted jingling of a bell.

He stops and gives me a sly smile. “Why?”

“I’m just curious how a degenerate criminal like yourself is on first-name basis with a woman who owns a fancy lingerie store?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” I frown.

“’Cause it sounds to me like you’re jealous, darlin’.”

Scoffing, I give him a look and make a show of rolling my eyes. He’s right. I am jealous. And I don’t like the feeling one bit. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? You know, Ivy, I’ve known you a lot longer than the rest of my brothers. Either they don’t know or they don’t care, but I can read you like an open fuckin’ book, baby.”

“Whatever, Mr Whitecross,” I mimic the soft feminine tone that Karina used when I say his name. “It was just a stupid question.”

He chuckles and leads me along the street. “She had some trouble with an ex-husband. Caused a lot of problems for her. I made that problem disappear.”

I stare up at him. “Did you know her? Before that, I mean?”

“Nope,” he says, and when I give him the stink-eye for not elaborating he rolls his eyes and finishes. “I saw her sometimes, around town. She looked at me like I was shit on her shoes. One night I pulled into the street as she was closing up shop. He was bangin’ down her door. I didn’t think nothin’ of it. Not my business. And then I ran into the two of them in the parking lot outside the supermarket. He had her bailed up against the car and there was some heated discussion going on about their kid. Still, wasn’t my business. Made it my business when he threw her across the lot, though. I stop in from time to time to check on her. Karina’s good people.”

“Is Karina a good lay too?”

Tank chuckles. “The best.”

Jealousy slices through my chest like a blade. I scowl, and I’m just about to call him every name under the sun when he throws his head back and laughs, a full bellied, deep-throated laugh. I stand there, glaring at him. “You should see your face.”

“Fuck you, arsehole,” I snap.

I attempt to walk past him, but he grabs my arm and tugs me to his side, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Yeah, I fucked that bitch several times. Made her come hard, fast and slow. Even made her forget her own name a time or two. But there’s only one woman that can make me do that, and I’m lookin’ right at her.”

Heat licks at my cheeks as I stare up into his eyes. He isn’t teasing. There’s no humour left in his gaze at all. Tank doesn’t say shit he doesn’t mean, and I haven’t a clue how to respond to that.

“Now if you’re done throwing a hissy fit ’cause I fucked some bitch a lifetime ago, can we eat?”

I nod. I don’t have anything to say in my defence, because I am jealous that they slept together, and it doesn’t make any sense. Not after what he just told me.

“One question?”

“What?” he says, impatient now.

“Did she call you Mr Whitecross while you were fucking her?”

He grins, and nods. “Yes, she did. It was awkward as fuck.”

I smile, because if there’s anything I know about Tank it’s that he likes sex as hard and dirty as I do, so I know he’s not lying about it being awkward. Feeling marginally better, I let him take my hand and lead me to a quaint little chocolate shop. The smell hits me before we’ve even entered.

“Tank, what’s happening, man?” A hipster-looking guy with jet black curls and an olive complexion greets us.

“Louis,” Tank says gruffly, thrusting out his hand to shake. He’s not pissed or anything—this is just how he talks to everyone who doesn’t have a vagina. Tank and Louis talk for a bit about why he hasn’t dropped by recently and I watch on in interest. Mostly to hear what he says about what’s been keeping him busy, but also because aside from the brothers at the club, I’ve never seen Tank with friends. I didn’t know Tank had friends.

Louis looks around Tank’s huge frame and says, “Oh hey, shit. Sorry. I didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”

He glances back at Tank with his eyebrow raised and a smile so wide I’m afraid his face might split.

“She’s with me,” Tank says, and Louis pales.

“Shit. Sorry, man,” he says, and extends his arm for me to shake. “I’m Louis, welcome. It’s so nice to meet a friend of Tank’s.”

“Ivy,” I say, shaking his hand, and then I add, with a mischievous grin, “Friend and fuck buddy.”

Louis laughs and turns to Tank. “Jesus fucking Christ, are you one lucky bastard?”

“Louis, could you quit hitting on the biker’s old lady?” a woman’s voice, young and yet equally stern, shouts from behind the counter, and I see a mop of wiry red curls pop up. She’s cute and freckle-faced, and her little button nose is covered in flour. She doesn’t look a day over eighteen.

“Hey Tank,” She says, swiping the flour from her face. She follows the trail down to her apron-covered chest and blows a bright orange curl out of her eyes. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy,” he replies.

“I can see that,” she says, and I’m beginning to feel like some kind of lab rat that jumped through their hoops and finally reached the cookie at the end of the maze with the way these two are studying me.

Tank is clearly aware of it too, because he shakes his head, throws an arm around my shoulder and leads us over to a table by the window. He pulls my seat out and waits. I just stare at him.

“What? I can’t be chivalrous?”

“You know what chivalry means?” I tease, but I sit down and allow him to push in my chair. Tank takes the seat opposite and Louis arrives with menus before Tank can hit me with some witty comeback.

“So, the usual?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.” Tank intervenes by knocking Louis’ arm away when he tries to hand me a menu.

I glare at the obnoxious arse. “I don’t get to decide what I want?”

“Nope.” He smirks, and it’s quite possibly the millionth one I’ve seen today. “I know exactly what you want. You just need to trust me.”

“Okay then,” Louis says. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” I practically shout. “The strongest you have.”

Tank shakes his head. “Get her a latté.”

I swear if looks could kill, Tank would be burnt to a char right about now. No one takes my coffee from me and lives to tell about it.

“Your system doesn’t need any more stimulation.”

“It’s caffeine, Tank, not cocaine,” I argue. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

He shrugs, and Louis glances nervously between us again. He looks as though he wants to flee. Tank has that effect on a lot of people. Then again, it could be the fact that I just admitted to being a junkie and at any second he’s expecting me to break out my stash and start snorting lines off of his fancy table. Louis says, “Okay, so latté it is then.”

“No, I want—”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your man is too scary to say no to.” He backs away from the table, shouting, “But don’t you worry, it’ll be the best latté you’ve ever tasted. You just sit tight.”

“He’s not my fucking man,” I shout back, drawing the attention of every patron in the room, which is really only two other people, not including Louis and the redhead. I look around sheepishly and then wrap my arms around myself, turning my attention back to Tank. “Stop fucking smirking, you arsehole, or I’m walking.”