Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“With the twins?” I ask over a laugh.
“With the twins,” Rose confirms, as if I needed it. Daniel can’t even go for a swim in the private pool without Tank and/or Fury following him on an inflatable. “He’s single.”
I frown at the frying pan. “Who is?”
“The banker,” she says quietly. “Lennox Benson.”
I stop poking at the pappadam, looking at my friend with a curious eye as she feigns concentrating on stirring the lime pickle. “And you’re pregnant,” I say quietly. “And married to one of the deadliest men alive.”
She peeks up at me on a straight face. “I know.”
This is not good. I wouldn’t say many relationships are healthy, but I bet there aren’t many as toxic as Danny and Rose’s. Or, oddly, as passionate and full of love. “I know you want to hurt him right now, Rose,” I say quietly, worried, because if Rose breaks out the big guns—namely her flirting—to kick Danny in the balls, Daniel’s new friend is going to be an orphan very soon.
“I’m just saying,” she muses, lifting the tray, “he’s single.” And with that, she pivots and leaves. “Nice ring, by the way.”
“I still said no,” I call, rushing to finish the pappadams, wanting to get back outside before Danny kills Rose or vice versa.
I meet James at the threshold, and he takes the tray from me. “What’s she done to her hand?”
“Small accident with the frying pan.”
“Right. What’s going on?” he asks, circling his spare arm around me and walking me back to the table.
“Lover’s quarrel. Something and nothing.” I take no pleasure from lying to James, none at all. In fact, I feel guilty, but Danny will be mortified enough, without any of the men knowing what’s happened. Not even the not so small matter of James deceiving me about killing my uncle’s husband eases my conscience.
“Sure,” he says over a laugh. “They look more in love than ever.”
“It’s pregnancy hormones.”
“Can’t wait,” he whispers, squeezing me before setting the plate on the table and pulling out a chair for me. Was that sarcasm? I honestly don’t know. I give him a curious look that he completely ignores. He’s expressed his reservations, but he’s also not pushed for any birth control. He’s also not pulled out of me before he’s come. It may not matter, because I might not even be able to carry anymore. Broken. I wince that thought away, as well as the fact that I’m due on my period tomorrow, and I look down at the ring that’s on the wrong finger. Or is it the right finger?
What about the marriage part? Are we skipping that bit?
“Can’t wait for what?” Brad asks, and I shake my head. “Wine?” he goes on, filling up my glass and pushing it toward me, his eyebrows high. “Or am I quitting mafia life?”
I feel James’s curious eyes on me, as Brad looks between us. Broken. “Not just yet,” I say, taking the glass and having a long swig, feeling James’s stare rooted to my profile.
I swallow down the liquid and . . . it burns. It burns so much. Tomorrow.
“Oh good. One psycho pregnant woman in the family at a time, please.” Brad looks at Rose. She’s distracting herself from having to face her husband by serving up dinner for everyone.
“It’s goat,” she says, finishing and lowering to her chair at the opposite end of the table to Danny. “Enjoy.”
“What happened to your hand?” he growls, prompting everyone to look at the bandage.
“I wasn’t concentrating in the kitchen.” Rose reaches for the wine before her, and I still, but Esther swoops in, predicting her daughter-in-law’s reckless intention and removes the temptation before Danny, who’s twitching at the other end of the table, finally explodes.
“Excuse me?” James says, his hand landing on my knee and squeezing. “Did you change your mind about something pretty fucking monumental and not bother telling me?”
I rest back, the wine in my hand. “You’re giving me mixed signals, James.” See Doc. Take time to build my strength. But . . . no wine. No protection.
The wine is swiftly removed from my hand and replaced with water. “Let’s not turn my mood as dark as Danny’s.”
I’m so fucking confused. “Are you telling me we’re trying?”
“Yes.”
Tomorrow. “Don’t I get a say?” I ask for the sake of it, surprised by his demeanor.
James turns his eyes onto me, his jaw grinding. “If you were my wife, I may consider giving you a choice.”
I balk at him. “You sound like a barbarian.”
He growls, losing his straight face and hooking an arm around my neck, hauling me into him, his mouth going to my ear and nibbling the lobe. “I’m going to get a yes out of you eventually, Beau, so let’s just cut to the bit when you realize it’s the best idea and we crack on with things.”