Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I know. Just so we’re clear, the wedding is in two weeks.” I reach for the handle, eager to get out of his car.
“Yes, Mik. I just buried my mother, but sure.” Pushing the door open, I slam it closed and flip him off when he drives away. I make my way through the foyer, seeing Val standing near the reception desk, waiting for me.
“I thought I told you not to flirt with the staff?” I smile at the young girl behind the desk as he comes up beside me.
We start making our way to the elevators. “She’s hot. Sorry, can’t help myself.”
“Leave the poor girl alone.”
The doors separate and we step through. Once they close again, Val breaks the silence. “Are you actually okay?”
“I am.” I adjust my handbag on my shoulder. “Having Wicked back and co-parenting with him has made it easier too.”
“Just… co-parenting?” Val wiggles his brows at me and before I can answer, the doors are opening onto my penthouse.
Stepping through the kitchen, Wicked and Wolf are relaxed on the couch.
Wicked stands and gestures to the kitchen. I leave my bag on the counter as he leans against the fridge. “Gonna need to spend some time at the clubhouse over the next few days. Was thinking you and him can come with?”
I chew on my lip, my eye twitching. “Smart of you to invite us both.”
The corner of his lip curls. “Well, I sure as fuck know you won’t be letting him come alone.”
I sigh, lowering myself onto a dining chair. “I guess we need to talk about all of that at some point, but you’re right, it’s too soon, and I don’t want him to be away from me right now, even if he does know you’re his father.” Leaning forward, my fingers itch for a cigarette. Dammit. Quitting is hard. “But I understand so we will come. Honestly, I need to plan this fucking wedding, so Betty will be spending time there too.”
“Fine.” Wicked rolls his eyes, going back into the lounge. “I’ll pack his bag.”
“You know…” Val interrupts when Wicked has disappeared.
“Shut up, Val,” I mutter, resting my head on the back of the chair.
“Is that bitch Sloane there?” Betty asks loudly so Wicked can hear as I clip Wolf into his belts.
I glare up at her as she slides into the passenger seat, flipping Wicked off. I’m positive he would have done it first as he clips his helmet over his head and fires up his bike.
“I haven’t asked.” Shutting the back door, I shuffle into the driver’s seat and push to start. Buying the G 63 was a family car move, but I don’t think I’ll buy another one again.
“Why not?” Betty asks as I drive out of the underground parking, gazing up at the rearview mirror to see Wicked following closely behind.
“Because then it will sound like I care.”
“Because you do care.”
I turn the music up and ignore her the whole way to the other side of town. When I roll us to a stop, waiting for the prospect at the gate to open it, she leans forward, removing her glasses. “Holy shit. This is somehow both not what I expected, yet what I expected.”
“It’s not that bad,” I say, pushing us forward and hooking a right under the carport. Wicked parks beside my car and Betty laughs.
“Did you both plan this? The white Harley and the white Merc?”
I don’t even bother answering her. Somehow, I have to plan a wedding in two weeks, and among it all, it’s a wedding I don’t even want. I’ve seen Papa once since Mama passed away, and he still won’t tell me who killed her. He says that the cops don’t know, but I don’t buy it. Everyone knows that the Cosa Nostra doesn’t deal with the cops. They’ll know who it was, and no doubt Papa will be planning her revenge. I’ve dropped it for now, but after the wedding, I will be demanding answers. Answers I fucking deserve.
My door opens and I jump, spinning around to face Wicked. “Jesus, can you not?”
“Rules.”
My shoulders straighten and my jaw tightens.
“Number one?” His brows raise slightly. “You don’t talk to anyone except Khaos or Royce.”
My mouth opens to answer back, but he curls his finger beneath my chin and flicks it closed. “Two? In here, you’re my property, so you do as I say.”
“Now I know you’re fucki—” His fingers wrap around my cheeks, squeezing my lips closed.
I glare at him.
“Three?” His eyes sparkle when he sees the anger swirl inside me. Asshole. “When the old ladies are around, you can talk with them.”
I shove my face out of his grip. “How do I know which is which?”
“Oh, you’ll know,” Betty mutters. “The old ladies will be dressed normally, and the club sluts dressed as hookers.”