Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
She keeps going. “Why are we doing that?”
“McLaren’s dead. The vote’s going to happen again. But I need to make sure we’re all good with the family. It’ll help if you’re by my side.” I close my eyes, grunting as she shimmies back onto all fours, pulling down my pants.
“Whatever you need,” she says, licking the tip of my cock, rolling her tongue around the clit and sucking on the precum. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“Good fucking girl,” I purr as she begins to suck my cock, head bobbing nice and fast. I moan, watching her pretty lips spread wide, listen to her gag, and come on her tongue like heaven. “Good fucking wife,” I whisper.
The entire east wing of the Crowley mansion is my mother’s domain. I take Dara in through the side entrance, this time being careful to avoid the staff. I don’t want my father to know that my wife’s back on my arm. Dara’s looking nervous, but she’s dressed in dark clothes like she’s in mourning.
We find my mother sitting in her lounge drinking wine and chatting on the phone. When I appear in the doorway, she glances over, frowns slightly, notices Dara on my arm, and sighs. “I’ll call you later, Janey. Yes, yes, you too.” She hangs up and slowly stands.
My mother is a stately woman. That’s not an insult. She’s beautiful and full of life, the sort of person that can command attention with nothing more than a flip of her hair. She belongs in staterooms, negotiating with ambassadors and charming prime ministers. My mother is the real force behind the Crowley family’s slow transition from street thugs to titans of industry. Though our industry happens to be crime.
“Mother,” I say, stepping forward. “Dara and I are here to speak with you.”
“I was wondering when you’d show up.” She glances at my wife. “Hello, dear, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too,” Dara says, sounding meek.
I frown slightly, annoyed by the effect my mother has on people. “We need to talk about my future in this family.”
Mother gestures for us to enter. She pours wine, something my father would never do, and sits down at an antique round table she imported from London. “I spoke with Chief Cross earlier today. He’s very unhappy.”
“Cross is always pissed,” I say, taking Dara’s hand in mine protectively. “More importantly, he always obeys.”
Mom’s lips purse. “Yes, well, in this case you’re lucky, but we both know his good will only goes so far. You used a lot.”
“Necessarily so.”
“McLaren didn’t need to die. There were other ways.”
I lean forward. “Mother, this town needed to remember why we rule them. McLaren embarrassed me. He embarrassed you and father and everyone in the Crowley organization. That could not stand.”
Mother looks unhappy. “There were still other ways.”
“No,” I say firmly. “There were not.”
We stare each other down. My mother is not the type of woman to blink first, and I’m a stubborn primate. Fortunately, Dara breaks the tension.
“Mrs. Crowley? I just wanted to say that I’m happy to be back in Boston, and I hope we can have a good relationship moving forward.”
Mother glances at Dara. “Molly, dear. Call me Molly. And I suppose we could have a good relationship, assuming my son doesn’t do anything else to jeopardize the family.”
“I solved our problems,” I snarl at her but force myself to take a breath. I close my eyes, do a breathing exercise, and open them again. “But I understand your position and will hold back the next time I decide to murder a rival.”
Mother sips her wine. “Then we’re all in agreement.”
“There’s still the problem of Dad,” I say pointedly.
“Let me handle your father.”
“Probation is over, and I will not divorce Dara.” I hold my mother’s stare. “She’d the mother of my child. I’m not going to turn my back on her.”
Mother lets out a breath. “Fine, but only because I know you’ll keep fighting this until your dying day.”
“We have your blessing then?” Nervous energy pours through me. I expected this, but even still, getting my mother on board will be huge.
She leans back and turns her gaze on Dara. “You, dear. Why did you marry my son?”
Dara doesn’t miss a beat. “Money,” she says.
Mother’s eyes widen. I groan, putting my face in my hands. Why the fuck did she just say that?
But she continues. “At least, that’s how it started.” She puts her hand on mine. “I was at rock bottom. I found out that I’m pregnant with your son’s child. And when he made his offer, I just… I said yes, because I felt like I had no other choice. But now I can see there are always choices, and I choose to stay with him. I want to be with him. I just needed time to figure it out.”