ASHLEY’S POV”Church, in our world, is an official meeting where we discuss club matters,” he explains calmly.
“You’ll be introduced to the club tonight, so be ready.”
”Is it compulsory I attend the….church?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Yes.” He nods once.
“It’s compulsory.
Get yourself ready.”
Before I can ask another question, he picks up his coffee mug and heads out of the kitchen.
I turn to Nonna, who’s smiling at me.
“That’s how he is,” she beams.
“Rip is very reserved.
You’ll get used to him soon enough.”
I roll my eyes, stepping closer to her.
“What is it about this church he keeps talking about?”
She pauses her stirring, focusing her attention on me.
“It’s their official meeting in the club, Ash.
You have to go and represent your husband.”
”What if I don’t want to go?” I ask, arching my brows.
“Or what if I choose not to?”
”You can’t choose not to go,” Adams cut in,walking into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Ash.
Hope you had a good night?”
I stare at him, my eyes lingering as he walks past me.
He pauses at the coffee machine and starts making his coffee.
“You can’t choose not to go, Ash.
It’s compulsory that you attend the church,” he continues calmly.
“It’s also your right to stand your ground when you get there.”
”You’re Mr.
Warrick’s old lady, even if you two never have any chemistry or intimacy.
He married you, and you have full rights over everything here—including a table at the club for the next three months of his mourning.”
”After that, you can choose to either walk away or run a business at the club.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing at me.
“It’s all your choice.
Only you can decide that but after three months.”
”But right now, you have to go in there and sit with them.
I give a resolute nod.
Not like I really understand why I have to go sit in a meeting with a group of assholes who hate me and slut-shame me at every opportunity they get.
Adams watches me for a moment before reaching for his mug and pouring his coffee.
“You’re his old lady, and by right, you’ll be heading the SOC club alongside the vice president.
You’ll also run all of his businesses while we back you up.”
”I know you’re new and young to all of this, but let’s just say fate brought you here.
You don’t have any other options… Mrs.
Harrington.”
He flashes me a smile—the kind that says you’ve got this, then walks out of the kitchen.
I let out a shaky breath, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders.
I’m too young for all of this.
Why the hell does Warrick even choose me?
At this point, I don’t know which is better,living as his widow and taking on responsibilities I can’t handle, or wishing he is alive while he subjects me to things my mind can’t even begin to think of.
My gaze lingers even after Adams walks away, my heart tightening as fear begins to fill it.
I’m about to sit down with the same men who have slut-shamed me countless times and swear never to accept me as their old lady.
“Ashley…” Nonna’s voice, soft and warm, pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
I turn.
She has a spoon in her hand, her eyes kind, her chin gesturing for me to come closer.
“Come have a taste of this sauce.”
I move toward her on autopilot, my legs quick.
She pours a little of the sauce onto my palm, and I quickly lick it.
“It tastes fantastic,” I say, and her eyes soften.
“Thank you.”
She drops the spoon, turns off the gas cooker, then slowly faces me, meeting my eyes.
“You don’t need to overthink whatever Adams tells you,” she says, her voice lowering.
“I understand you’re scared, but don’t worry……Ripper has your back.”
“Rip won’t let them.”
My face flushes.
I feel a little special.
I nod, my chest tight.
Her hands slide up, resting on my shoulders, grounding me.
“You’re no longer Ashley Knowles.
You’re Mrs.
Harrington now, so you need to act like it.” Her grip tightens slightly.
“This place is cutthroat.
You’re either prey or predator, there’s no middle ground here.”
Tears prick my eyes at the sound of my real name, but I blink them back.
“You go in there,” Nonna continues, her tone turning fierce.
“You sit at that table.
You don’t apologize.
You don’t shrink.
You take up space as the president’s widow.”
She leans forward.
“And if any of those bastards try to make you feel small…” A small, dangerous smile curves her lips.
“You remind them that Warrick no longer signs their paychecks—you do now.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, but it is cut short by the sudden slam of the door.
We both turn at the same time.
It’s Quinn.
Nonna quietly steps back, bowing her head.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
Her eyes sweep across the room before settling on Nonna condescendingly.
“And what’s so good about this morning?… Why isn’t breakfast on the table yet?”
”I’m sorry, I was just about—”
”Shush.” She cuts her off with a sharp raise of her hand.
“Keep your stupid apology.
I don’t know who employed such a useless person.”
”If I wait one more minute for breakfast, I will send you back to that hut you live in, downtown.”