Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I go to speak, but Hawke beats me to it. “It was pretty fucking big, but don’t tell Eli I’m scared of them or anything.”
Dutton’s eye twitches as he looks around as if searching for the imaginary bug. He can’t seriously be falling for this. Then again, why would he have any reason not to trust us? We’ve always had his and Eli’s backs.
I feel a sense of guilt because, yet again, I can’t refrain from my impulses. Billie’s so terrified she doesn’t even look my way. And I realize then that it might be shameful for her to be seen with me. She is, after all, basically a princess. I’m no more than a street rat who was polished into a killer.
“And why were all three of you in here anyway?” Dutton asks, and I can tell he’s trying to calm himself down.
Billie rolls her eyes. “You can’t seriously be pissed right now? And we came in to get the cake.”
“The cake’s out there,” he says suspiciously, staring her down.
Whatever she sees in his expression makes her pause, but only for a moment before she starts arguing.
“Hello? Did you forget I enjoy baking? Did you really think we’d only bring one variety of cake?” Her tone is sassy, yet I can sense the hint of nervousness in it. “Gosh, you’re so insufferable. I need to find Hope and Ivy to get away from all this testosterone.” She huffs as she heads for the door. “Besides, shouldn’t you be getting your shit together?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.
Dutton swallows, and realization dawns on his expression. I notice him looking at the stack of plates on the counter, and I hand them to him. He nods but seems unsure as he stares at my brother and me.
Then he takes his leave.
I don’t feel any particular way about it. But I’m certain that whatever Billie and I had is now over. It was bound to come to an end one day, but my hands ball into fists as I grapple with accepting it.
The moment Dutton closes the door behind him, Hawke shoves me against the pantry door, fisting my shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I don’t do anything to resist him. I know I deserve punishment for touching her. I just didn’t expect to get hooked on her in the process.
“Say something. Are you serious right now? I thought I had a problem when it came to women, but you’ve chosen the one woman in this entire fucking world who is off-limits. What the fuck are you thinking?”
I shrug.
Hawke shoves me and takes a step back. “Fuck, Ford.” He runs his hand through his jet-black hair. “When did it start?”
I curl my hand around the box of cookies. “About six months ago.” His jaw drops. “It’s nothing serious.”
“How the fuck have you kept this from Dutton?” he demands.
“She only comes around when he’s out of town. Besides, he was never looking. He’s been preoccupied with his own shit.” I jut my chin in the direction where I can hear everyone clapping.
Hawke peers out the window and then throws his hands up in the air. “Dutton’s down on one fucking knee. What the fuck is happening around this place? First Eli and now Dutton.” He turns on me. “Don’t start getting ideas. It’s you and me. You know we’re incapable of that shit.” He grabs the back of my head and brings our foreheads together. “If Eli finds out, think about how this might affect him.”
My fingers curl into my palm. Does Hawke think I haven’t considered that? That I don’t know the chaos it might cause? I’ve devoted myself to Eli and the Italian mafia. And that reminder makes it that much harder. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
Hawke sighs as if he understands. “If it’s just sex, find someone else. It ends here and now, okay?”
I nod. Killing is the only thing I’m good at. The only thing I’m useful for. And Hawke fucking loves it. We’d survive if Eli decided to cast us off due to my indiscretion. We’ve always been survivors. Hell, we could probably take over our mother’s business. But I don’t want to be the reason for any of that. I don’t want to let down Hawke again because of my impulses.
“Understood,” I say, and he lets out a breath and straightens. He then notices the box in my hand and points to it.
“She baked me cookies,” I admit.
He rolls his eyes and snatches the box from me. “You’re not eating her fucking baked goods if it’s only sex.”
Within seconds, I have him pinned against the pantry, his shirt fisted in my grip. “You can comment about my shitty choices, but you don’t get to dictate when I can and can’t eat my cookies.”
He’s pissed, and despite being bigger than me, I’ve always been faster than him. Although we’ve never truly gone blow for blow, we both know it’d be pretty fucking even. And the one thing he knows not to fuck with me over is my sweets, more specifically, one’s she baked for me.