Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“I hate you, but not enough to ruin these perfectly good shoes.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault the weather decided to act up this week. Not even Becky’s.
Tiernan shouldered off his peacoat and splayed it on the ground beneath me, so I didn’t tarnish my pink pumps.
Finally, I speared him a pissed-off glare, stepping onto his jacket.
“The wool of your stupid coat got stuck in my heel.”
My husband’s cold, flat mask melted momentarily. He somehow understood exactly what I was doing and why I was doing it. We had an audience.
Becky. His soldiers. His clientele.
He needed to sacrifice his pride to restore mine.
“My bad, sweetheart.” He slung my arm over his shoulder and took a knee, literally on his knees for me, as he lifted my leg. He rested my knee on his muscular thigh, rubbing the fuzzy wool from my heel with his thumb.
“Next time I’ll wear cashmere.”
“You make sure you do that.”
I could feel the stares of the entire club burning a hole in the backs of our heads as they watched on in bewilderment.
“Why did you speak to her?”
“She’s an employee.”
“She wanted to fuck you.”
“So? People want shit they can’t have all the time.”
“You fucked her in our home.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked sincere.
“In my dress.”
“I wanted her to be you. I knew I couldn’t touch you, but the thought of having anyone else was rather…unexciting.”
“And then there was that stupid receptionist.” I narrowed my eyes.
“She was just bait. I never touched her.”
“You’re a horrible person.”
“Yes, but I’ll make a damn good husband if you let me.”
“I don’t know if I could ever forgive someone who’s been this cruel to me.”
“That’s fine, I’m not that person anymore.” He shrugged. “You turned me into someone else completely.”
Beyond his shoulder, I spotted Becky, puzzled at the sight of me standing on my husband’s designer peacoat, giving him shit.
“Do you want me to fire her?” he asked, his eye searching mine. “Say the word, and I will. I’ll fire all of them. Every single woman under my employment. There’s no one else, Lila,” he said. “There never really was.”
Pacified, I licked my lips. “No. I’ll never take away someone’s job for no good reason. And my ego is not a good enough reason.”
“I’ll make sure Fintan deals with this club,” he promised. “I won’t ever see her again.”
“Just promise me you and Fintan treat these girls well.”
He looked surprised and a little annoyed. “Of course. They get paid in cash. Crazy tips.”
“And the clientele?”
“Adhere to the club’s rules.”
I studied him with a pout, watching as the wait turned him inside out.
“You can take me to the restaurant now.”
When we drove off and I saw Becky loitering at the entrance, shooting me a furious scowl, I made sure to flip her the bird.
CHAPTER FORTY
LILA
Summer slinked away, giving room to chilly fall days. The leaves turned yellow, then orange, then, finally, brown.
My belly swelled and stretched, the baby kicking and somersaulting playfully inside it. We had our own games now. I poked him; he punched or kicked back. I sang; he stirred. He was my companion when I ate, slept, sketched, and read.
I loved him extra hard, to make up for the fact his father didn’t.
Tiernan took me to the shooting range twice a week now.
I didn’t know whether it was because he was determined to help me protect myself or that I was so absolutely terrible at it. Maybe both.
One day, when Tiernan drove us to our biweekly practice, he veered out of the city and onto the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“Outdoor range. You’ve graduated to moving targets. In real life, the person you need dead isn’t going to sit around and wait for you to pull the trigger. You need to be prepared.”
Was this his silent way of telling me he was worried I was a target? I wasn’t stupid. I knew his showdown with the Bratva was fast approaching.
The journey consisted of long, winding roads curling up hills and mountains, into woodlands just beyond Scarborough. At some point, the houses, streets, and electricity poles gave way to wilderness. Until, beyond the clear, cloudless sky and hills, I finally spotted a lone house.
Once we arrived, I realized the place was a cabin of sorts. It didn’t seem like a formal shooting range. More like someone’s home. I flashed my husband a curious glance as our boots chomped gravel on our way toward empty stables on acres of foliage.
“Safe house,” Tiernan explained, taking my hand in his and lacing our fingers together. My heart exploded into a trillion fluttering butterflies.
He’d been inside me, kissed me, licked me everywhere, and yet, this—this—had me blushing down to my toes. This simple touch that didn’t scream lust, but whispered intimacy.
“What for?” I asked verbally, unprepared to let go of his hand to sign.
“Sometimes we need to lay low. Other times, we smuggle people in and out of the country. Always good to have a place off the grid. Even better to have one away from cellular connection, so you can’t be tracked.”