My Biker Boyfriend.

Chapter 1. Let’s break up.” Aria’s grip on her phone loosened slightly as she glared at the message that was staring right back at her. Her eyes lingered on the phone, fingers twitching gently. Her brows tugged into a gentle frown. The message was from her boyfriend. The same one that had sent her flowers yesterday to celebrate her safety after getting kidnapped by some rival biker clans. Her heart skipped in her chest as she pressed the call button, placing the phone to her ear with a thundering heart. A few seconds into the dial, Jude, her boyfriend, picked up at the second ring. “What stunt are you pulling right now?” Her voice was exceptionally calm, but the undertone held pain and a bit of hope that his answer would be the same as whatever was going through her mind. “I’m not pulling a stunt,” Jude said, his voice sounding colder than ever before. Aria’s heart clenched against her chest. The truth was, she knew something like this could not be called a joke. She knew Jude so well that she knew he would never do something like this if he didn't mean it. But a part of her had hoped it was not real. Her lips parted, unsure of what to say or where to even begin. “We—we were cool some days back, Jude. What happened? Why? Why do you suddenly want to break up? Did I do something wrong?” Silence hung over the phone for a few seconds before Jude’s reply finally came in. “The only thing you did was being a good girl. I’m tired of acting like I can tolerate your petty attitude. I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.” Aria stilled as his words filled her ear. Her lips trembled, lashes fluttering from the weight of his words. “You said you loved me,” she said, voice coming in a gentle, broken sob. “You said— you said we were good. Did—did I do anything wrong? I could fix it. I could—” “You don’t need to fix anything. I have made up my mind already, Aria. There is nothing you can do about it. I want a breakup because we are not compatible.” “Why?” Aria stuttered, feeling the rising pang in her chest. “May… Aria. Maybe for once, I want to be realistic with myself. Maybe for once, I do not want a lady who is being such a prude. Maybe I want a girl whom I could enjoy all my s*x fantasies with and not some up-close rigid girl. Besides, I need to stay loyal to my club, and being with you is enough hindrance.” Aria’s heart broke, sinking into her stomach. Her eyes filled, and the tears slid, trekking down her cheeks. “Prude,” she repeated, stuttering, but before she could say anything else, the call ended. Her fingers trembled as she lowered the phone to her thighs, her eyes lingering on the screen while tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably. Pain lodged in her chest as she tried to bring herself to accept her fate. But nothing seemed right. Everything had been perfect. A few days back when she got kidnapped, he had sent her flowers and even sang songs to her. But now he was acting differently. He was colder than the Jude she knew. His actions broke her heart—breaking up over a text broke her heart—but being called a prude broke her the most. They had been the best of couples— at least so she thought and although, they weren't from the same club, they had promised to work it out their selves. Aria was still buried in the misery of breaking up with her boyfriend of two years when the phone rang, pulling her out of her trance. Her nails dug into her scalp, ruffling her hair gently from frustration before raising her gaze to check if the caller was her best friend. Turned out it was her brother. The moment her eyes met the caller on the screen, her heart softened and the pain in her chest reduced slightly. Her brother was her calm in every storm, and somehow—somehow—she knew things would always end well after a proper conversation with him. “Aria,” Renzo’s voice came in the moment she picked up the call. “Go in and have your box arranged. Draven is on his way to pick you up.” Aria’s brows pulled into a puzzle. Pack… stuff… Draven? The tears in her eyes dried up immediately. “Where are we going to?” “Since the incident that happened three days back, I’ve been unable to sleep properly. So I’ve had Draven pick you up. He’s on his way and I’m certain he’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Draven? Aria’s eyes widened as the name registered. Draven Virellie. The president of their biker clan. The Black Reaper. Her eyes widened wider, sensation and discomfort seething down her veins with one goal. Draven Virellie was the president and head of their biker clan. He was the ruthless 31-year-old killer who didn’t blink when he killed. The one who didn’t need weapons to clear the government’s dirty secrets. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I do not want to stay with him.” “You do not have a choice, Aria. The last time you got yourself in trouble—thanks to him—you would have been six feet beneath the ground.” Aria’s demeanor softened as the image of that day flashed across her face. God, he walked into the night, bold and fearless like he owned the night itself. And when he pulled the trigger, he made sure no one left there alive aside from himself and her fragile little self—who eventually got carried in a bridal style in those huge arms of his. Her skin flushed gently as she recalled the soft way his hand scooped her in, carrying her out of the building without sparing her a glance. Oh, holy memories. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked away from that moment. That shouldn’t be a thing to think about. Draven was a dangerous person. “He is brutal, Ren. I—” “That is the only place I won’t doubt your safety, Aria. Go into the room, pack your stuff, and get ready.” “Ren—” “We’re not discussing anything if it’s about this. The club has sent me on a mission, and I don’t know when I’ll return.” Without a word of goodbye, the call ended. And once again, Aria was left to her emotions and information that kept biting at her chest. Aria paced through the room, anger brewing gently from within. “It’s not fair!” she mumbled to herself, foaming gently. Her 22-year-old self didn’t get to make decisions because she had a brother who wouldn’t let her breathe. Now she was going to be with her brother’s friend, and Aria could already picture what the next few months of her life would be like. In a few days, she would be freaking 23, but that wouldn’t even make a difference. Her hands ached against the stack of clothes as she threw them randomly into the box. God! Living in the same mansion with Draven Virellie was hell. She didn’t want to see that face of his that never wore a smile. He was cold. Brooding every damn time—but she couldn’t deny the fact that he was hot. Hot and sexy in every unholy way ever. It was not something she liked to admit easily, but Draven wore an aura that pulled her in strangely, and maybe—just maybe-that—that was the reason she didn’t want to see him. Aria had just finished packing her bag when the sensor of the house informed her that a guest was waiting downstairs. Her hands moved to grab her box, but a maid quickly stepped forward, taking it from her. The moment she got to the door of her room, she glared at the space she had grown fond of like it was the last time she was going to see it—before finally walking away. Aria was descending the stairs when her gaze suddenly caught sight of the very familiar yet mysterious man who was currently sitting on the long cream couch of their all-glass living room. Her heart slipped gently at the sight of him, seated across the room—his hair tousled gently, legs crossed over the other. “I’m here,” she whispered in her tiny soft voice the moment she reached the last stair. And God! Aria could swear that her heart skipped the moment he turned to stare at her. His cold, calculative almond eyes ran down her body, carefully accentuating her gentle curves. Aria’s heart skipped, skin pricking under the intensity of his gaze. Her legs wobbled gently, and she twitched, burning under the heat of his stare. “Doll,” Draven called out in his thick masculine voice, rising to his feet at the same time. Aria could have sworn that the name got her, but wait—He was standing at what she could call a 6’4, and maybe she never noticed this before, but right now, her eyes moved across his body, drinking in the sight that lay underneath his black shirt that was rolled up at the sleeve— Her eyes lingered on his calloused arms, then his broad shoulders, his sculptured muscles, and the chest that spread out widely beneath his clothes. For a brief second, her eyes moved to his, noticing the structure of his nose, straight and pointed. His dark Hazel eyes pierced into hers, his heart-shaped lips twitched into a mysterious smirk He looked f*****g handsome. God! She knew right this moment— not only did he have a chest that could shelter worries, not only did he have shoulders that could shield one perfectly from the adversities of life, he had a face that could ruin you perfectly while being nothing but a bad boy, perhaps—beneath your legs.