Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“What? Go out? Where?”
I smile to myself, not looking back. He’s not been left alone with her yet. And he’s not being left alone now. The house is full, and Esther is here. He has an army of helpers on hand. “I’m going to the spa to see how the reno is coming along, and then I’ll pick Daniel up from school.” I swing the door open and pass through.
“Rose!” Danny yells.
I peek over my shoulder as I pace down the corridor, seeing him scrambling to his feet, Maggie safe in the crook of his muscly arm. Panic. It’s a rare expression on my husband. He’s capable. Confident. What the hell is he stressing about? I head to the kitchen with Danny in pursuit and go to the fridge. “Morning,” I sing to Esther’s ass as I pass her bending over the dishwasher.
“Morning,” she replies, not looking up. “What kind of night did you have?”
“Long.” God help me, every hour she woke up and wanted feeding. And now she will sleep all day. I swear, she’s nocturnal. I open the fridge and grab the OJ, drinking straight from the carton.
Esther, smiling, pops up from the dishwasher and flaps her arms, exasperated.
“What?”
“Why does everyone around here insist on slurping from the carton?” She searches my arms. She doesn’t get a chance to ask. Danny falls into the kitchen, Maggie held to his chest with one spade of a hand. It is the most incredible sight. My tall, built, scarred, murdering, mafia boss husband handling something so delicate. His sex appeal has tripled, which means my husband is one scorching-hot male. Even if he looks like he could fall asleep standing. I wince, still feeling the tenderness between my legs. I feel like my insides could fall out at any moment. So sexy.
“Here she is,” Esther coos, forgetting everything and going to Danny. God damn it. “Do you want me to take her for a bath?”
“No,” I pipe up quickly, going to the island as Esther swings around, a little injured and slightly indignant. I tilt my head, feeling Danny’s laser stare on me. “Maggie needs some daddy time.”
“Oh, right, yes, of course.” Esther nods, understanding. “Daddy time.”
“I have to go to work,” Danny grates.
“Work? But everyone is dead, darling.” I smile sweetly. “So there is no work to do.” I go back to the fridge, opening the door and returning the OJ before taking a bottle of breast milk out. I turn and present it to Danny. His face. His scar is glowing. It’s not glowed for a while. I’ve missed it. “Freshly pumped.”
His eyes drop to my chest. “She prefers to drink from the source.”
I laugh loudly, and Esther takes that as her cue to get back to the dishwasher. “Like her daddy,” I say, going to him, reaching up and kissing his rough chin. “Mummy has business to see to.” What a novelty. Me seeing to business and not Danny. Legal business. I push the bottle into his limp hand and kiss Maggie’s head. “There’s more in the fridge.” Plenty, because it seems I’ve turned into a cow. “Have a lovely day.” I leave them in the kitchen.
“You’re taking Tank.”
“Standard,” I sigh, climbing the stairs. No danger, no enemies, at least none on the hunt for us, and yet I still have to take a Viking. If I wasn’t so fond of Tank, I’d complain, but he’s good company and, actually, a really useful carrier of bags.
“Rose, come on,” Danny pleads, coming after me.
“What are you so worried about?”
“I’m not worried.”
“You don’t think you can do it?” I know he can do it.
“Of course I can do it.”
I turn at the top of the stairs and face him. I don’t like his filthy look. It’s a look of defense. “Is there a problem?” I ask, head tilted, eyes lasers on him. Or something he’s not telling me?
“There’s no problem.”
“You seem a bit too worried about me, considering all the enemies are dead.”
“I’ll never stop worrying about you.”
I smile mildly. “I’ll see you both later.” Leaving Danny behind, I go to our room and take a shower. And it’s glorious. What’s not so glorious is how overgrown I am. Everywhere. I rinse the conditioner out of my hair and brush the water out of my face, dreading the thought of letting anyone near me with wax strips. God damn my husband. I step out of the stall and reach for my cell on the vanity, calling Beau.
“Why does Danny look like he wants to kill?” she asks when she answers.
“Oh, he does?” I say, smiling to myself. “I’ve missed that look on him.”
She chuckles. “Where are you?”
“In the shower.” It’s a long shot—I know my husband is passionate about it, but I’m desperate. “Do you have a razor?” Silence. It’s probably unreasonable of me, but I roll my eyes. “So I can shave,” I go on. I can’t even be annoyed that I need to explain. Because why else would I want a razor? “I don’t think I can face waxing.”