Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
The first was wearing a long, flowing maxi dress with the back cut out. Her tanned skin was toned, and her arms were sculpted, wrists full of bracelets. Her hair was cut short, and with her delicate features, she looked like a pretty pixie or fairy or some magical creature. She was placing food on the table, laughing at something the bald man behind her was saying. The bald man was most definitely her man since he was checking out her ass as she bent over. There was an intense possessiveness that even I felt.
He was hot as balls, but was that a surprise?
The next woman I recognized.
Caroline Hargrave.
I didn’t really like to watch the news... It made me nervous and terrified for the world that I was releasing my daughter out into. Preston needed to watch the news. Be informed. Be the most cultured man in the room, up to date on every tragedy, political scandal or market fluctuation.
He watched it, therefore I watched it.
He hated Caroline Hargrave. Hated that a woman was out there in warzones, reporting, doing a ‘man’s job’, not giving him the angle that he wanted.
He’d been glad when she went off the air. Preston, I was coming to realize, did not like strong women. Women he wouldn’t be able to control. It unnerved him. Angered him. Which was in direct conflict to how we’d raised our daughter. She was strong, outspoken, independent. He did not try to squash that in her… thank God. But I also knew he harbored the idea that she would meet a good old boy when she went to college and would promptly fall in love with him, pop out babies and find her ‘place.’ He’d said something to that effect at dinner with his parents once, and his mother and I had exchanged a knowing look.
Preston did not know his daughter very well or at all. Or at least he saw what he wanted to see in her.
Violet would be so jealous that I was having brunch with Caroline Hargrave. She was her hero.
And it seemed she’d swapped warzones for life with an outlaw motorcycle club. A man with a large scar across his face—that did not mar his handsomeness in the slightest—pulled her away from the child’s face she was trying to wipe to kiss her full on the lips. With tongue.
She responded and laughed, wiping her trademark red lipstick off his lips when he released her.
The last woman was standing in the corner, next to one of the most intimidating men I’d ever seen. Dark hair, tall, menacing. Covered in tattoos. Absolutely covered. Even his face had some.
What stopped him from being completely menacing was the small infant that was strapped to his chest.
He was standing in the middle of a room full of tough guys, badasses and biker alphas yet still managed to look like the most dangerous man in the room with a baby strapped to his chest.
He also was looking at the woman beside him like she was responsible for the very air he breathed.
The woman looked vaguely familiar. Her long blonde hair was in loose waves around her face. Even from across the room, I could see her makeup was absolutely stunning, expertly applied. She had tattoos covering her arms, wearing a skintight dress that showed off every curve and high heeled boots. Because of the way the man was looking at her, I assumed it was her baby that was strapped to his chest and gave her a silent round of applause for looking like that months after having a child.
I looked like that months after having Violet only because I was a child myself, my metabolism was fast, and gravity hadn’t yet got the memo.
“Finally!” someone yelled.
“I thought I was going to have to drag you out with my bare hands,” Lucas yelled, teasing.
Swiss’s arm was slung tightly around my shoulder, otherwise I might’ve taken off running with all of the attention focused on us.
“You did that, you would’ve lost both of those hands,” Swiss replied easily, obviously not on the verge of a panic attack over all of the attention.
Then again, this was his family. He was comfortable around them. He knew all of them. And the bastard looked GQ ready just throwing on some clothes after using his four-in-one.
In quick succession, I was introduced to everyone. The bald man was the president, Hansen. He smiled softly and shook my hand. Macy, with the maxi dress, was his wife. She hugged me in greeting, squeezing my tightly. She smelled of patchouli and lavender. Jagger was the man with the scar, Caroline’s husband. I tried my best to pretend I didn’t know who she was when she also hugged me in greeting. Hades was the man with the baby strapped to him.