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Book: Sweet Submission (Devil's Sons Motorcycle Club Book 3) by Kathryn Thomas
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Authors: Kathryn Thomas
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then.
“I can see it now,” Rayan quipped. “The two of you riding off on the back of that shitty little motorcycle of yours. Hey, Sam, tell Maman and Baba about your motorcycle gang.”
“He’s in a gang?” Rashad fired the question at Afia. “Really, Afia? A thug? A criminal? This is what you invite into my home?!”
“Baba, it’s not what you think,” she tried to explain.
Sam interjected, “By gang, he means motorcycle club. I’m not affiliated with any gang activity. I’m actually a mechanical engineer by profession.” He gritted his teeth, wishing he could loosen some of Rayan’s. “Mr. and Mrs. Amini, I love Afia. I understand that you don’t know me from Adam, but I would love for us to all get to know each other better, because I intend to marry her. I know it would make Afia happy if you can find it in your hearts to give me the opportunity to show you I am a worthy mate.”
Fatima muttered angrily and turned her back on them, walking back into the kitchen with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”
“I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States, you have behaved improperly with my only daughter. You can’t seriously expect me to grant you permission to tarnish her even further with this ridiculous idea of a union between the two of you. It’s obvious you’re not Islamic, Mr. Elison. You’d know the error of your ways if you were.”
Rayan chuckled softly and swallowed another swig of alcohol. “Ah, go ahead and let them be together Baba,” he slurred. “I’m positive he’s already taken her virginity.”
Afia colored, Sam’s gaze wavered, and Rashad realized his uncouth son was speaking the truth. In sheer outrage he pointed at the front door with a shaking hand. “Get. Out.”
Sam groaned inwardly, knowing there was no recovering from the blow to his integrity that Rayan had just dealt. He glowered at the cackling younger Amini. “Mr. Amini,” he tried again to get through to Afia’s father.
“Get out of my house!”
Sam turned to Afia before anyone could stop him. “I’ll be back for you,” he murmured.
Her scared eyes flew to Rayan, who launched himself up from the couch and threw himself at Sam. Rayan shoved Sam as hard as he could, sending the biker stumbling back. Rayan grabbed Sam by the collar of his jacket and succeeded in slinging him at the front door. “You heard my father,” he said with a malicious grin. “Get out of our house.”
Sam angrily straightened his jacket and looked one last time at the scene of destruction he was leaving in his wake. Nothing had gone according to plan, and it was all because Rayan was bound and determined to keep him apart from Afia. He scowled at his nemesis and jerked open the door, shutting it with force behind him as he walked out to his car. When he got inside the Pontiac, Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Damn you, Rayan!” he growled in impotent rage. There was nothing he could do but leave and try to figure out some way to get Afia out of the house at a later date.
CHAPTER 7
Afia had no more bow left in her spine. She stood to her full, modest height, adjusting her hijab over her glossy dark brown hair, as she squared her narrow shoulders and lifted her head defiantly. She had just watched Sam walk out the door and realized she couldn’t bend to her parents’ or her brother’s wishes anymore. But, disobeying her parents was easier in mind than in deed. Afia swallowed thickly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rashad glared at her, as if daring her to make a sound. Afia wavered.
Her father looked so bitterly angry, but more than that, he looked disappointed in her. Rashad Amini was a short, proud man with a slightly balding head, and his paunch overhung his belt, but he was neatly dressed. He had ethics and morals he had tried to instill into his offspring. He
“I can see it now,” Rayan quipped. “The two of you riding off on the back of that shitty little motorcycle of yours. Hey, Sam, tell Maman and Baba about your motorcycle gang.”
“He’s in a gang?” Rashad fired the question at Afia. “Really, Afia? A thug? A criminal? This is what you invite into my home?!”
“Baba, it’s not what you think,” she tried to explain.
Sam interjected, “By gang, he means motorcycle club. I’m not affiliated with any gang activity. I’m actually a mechanical engineer by profession.” He gritted his teeth, wishing he could loosen some of Rayan’s. “Mr. and Mrs. Amini, I love Afia. I understand that you don’t know me from Adam, but I would love for us to all get to know each other better, because I intend to marry her. I know it would make Afia happy if you can find it in your hearts to give me the opportunity to show you I am a worthy mate.”
Fatima muttered angrily and turned her back on them, walking back into the kitchen with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”
“I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States, you have behaved improperly with my only daughter. You can’t seriously expect me to grant you permission to tarnish her even further with this ridiculous idea of a union between the two of you. It’s obvious you’re not Islamic, Mr. Elison. You’d know the error of your ways if you were.”
Rayan chuckled softly and swallowed another swig of alcohol. “Ah, go ahead and let them be together Baba,” he slurred. “I’m positive he’s already taken her virginity.”
Afia colored, Sam’s gaze wavered, and Rashad realized his uncouth son was speaking the truth. In sheer outrage he pointed at the front door with a shaking hand. “Get. Out.”
Sam groaned inwardly, knowing there was no recovering from the blow to his integrity that Rayan had just dealt. He glowered at the cackling younger Amini. “Mr. Amini,” he tried again to get through to Afia’s father.
“Get out of my house!”
Sam turned to Afia before anyone could stop him. “I’ll be back for you,” he murmured.
Her scared eyes flew to Rayan, who launched himself up from the couch and threw himself at Sam. Rayan shoved Sam as hard as he could, sending the biker stumbling back. Rayan grabbed Sam by the collar of his jacket and succeeded in slinging him at the front door. “You heard my father,” he said with a malicious grin. “Get out of our house.”
Sam angrily straightened his jacket and looked one last time at the scene of destruction he was leaving in his wake. Nothing had gone according to plan, and it was all because Rayan was bound and determined to keep him apart from Afia. He scowled at his nemesis and jerked open the door, shutting it with force behind him as he walked out to his car. When he got inside the Pontiac, Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Damn you, Rayan!” he growled in impotent rage. There was nothing he could do but leave and try to figure out some way to get Afia out of the house at a later date.
CHAPTER 7
Afia had no more bow left in her spine. She stood to her full, modest height, adjusting her hijab over her glossy dark brown hair, as she squared her narrow shoulders and lifted her head defiantly. She had just watched Sam walk out the door and realized she couldn’t bend to her parents’ or her brother’s wishes anymore. But, disobeying her parents was easier in mind than in deed. Afia swallowed thickly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rashad glared at her, as if daring her to make a sound. Afia wavered.
Her father looked so bitterly angry, but more than that, he looked disappointed in her. Rashad Amini was a short, proud man with a slightly balding head, and his paunch overhung his belt, but he was neatly dressed. He had ethics and morals he had tried to instill into his offspring. He
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