“About that,” Crown starts, heaving a deep sigh. I ignore him, padding past and tossing my hair over my shoulder as I throw a withering look his way.
“You know what Beast said?” I query, raising a single brow and then smirking viciously at him. Crown just stares back at me, but if he isn’t going to answer my question then he can go fuck himself.
With a scoff of disgust, I turn back around and continue into the kitchen to find Reba and Grey seated across from one another. There are fast-food wrappers crumpled on the table, and Reba is sipping a drink from a straw.
Her green eyes widen when she sees me.
“Your neck,” she breathes, and I reach up a hand to touch the sore side of my neck as a slight smirk works its way across my lips. “Did he …” she starts, almost choking on the words. “Did Beast hurt you, Gidge?”
“Those are just hickeys,” Grey explains, and Reba’s entire face flushes. She makes a horrible face and shakes her head violently, wavy red hair flying.
“That’s disgusting,” she murmurs as I chuckle and slump into the seat between them, reaching out to drag the large white bag in the center of the table closer to me. There are a bunch of breakfast sandwiches wrapped up in waxy yellow paper, and—bonus for me—they’re still warm.
“Fuck yes. Sex is exhausting. I need to refuel.”
Reba groans and Grey smirks right back at me as I take a stack of sandwiches and pile them in front of me. There are some hashbrowns in there, too. Score. I shove one into my mouth whole and groan.
“Why would you want someone to suck on your neck until it bruises?” Reba whispers, clutching once again at her non-existent pearls. I almost laugh—because really, that’s funny as hell and the most virgin-like thing she’s ever said—but then I remember that I didn’t gather any of Reba’s belongings for her. Not even the pearls she inherited from her grandmother.
“I’m sorry about your necklace,” I murmur, putting a hand up to cover my mouth as I chew. “I’m so sorry.”
Her face softens slightly, and I know she understands what I’m really trying to say. It isn’t about the necklace; this is about everything else. Not only did I ruin her life and get her parents killed, but now she’s here, trapped on the compound like a prisoner.
I imagine that, when Grey goes, she’ll go with him.
That makes me so fucking sad.
I unwrap an egg and sausage sandwich and take a huge bite, so that I don’t have to say anything else.
“When someone sucks on your neck,” Grey begins in a teasing voice, leaning forward and splaying his fingers on the tabletop. “All the blood rushes to that spot. It makes you dizzy. It gives you goose bumps. It makes your cock hard—”
“Alright, alright,” Reba says as both Grey and I chuckle. She sets her drink down and holds up both hands in surrender. “I don’t need to hear any more than that. Sorry I even asked.” She lifts her chin in that imperious way of hers, and I smile.
Footsteps behind me send chills skittering down my spine.
Not Beast, Crown.
I don’t bother to look at him. I don’t even react when he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“You said you wanted to work?” he asks as I glance back to see him frowning harshly down at me. His eyes lift up to Grey, and I can see that he’s struggling to understand our easy companionship. Maybe he can’t understand how two people from rival groups can bond so quickly and so easily.
Everything Grey’s family stands for is at odds with everything that mine stands for.
But so what?
Two people don’t have to agree on every fucking thing to get along. There’s more to all of us than just opinions; there’s an inner core to each person that, if we try hard enough, we can usually connect to. Even if they disagree. Even if their views don’t match ours.
That’s me and Reba. That’s me and Grey.
Our souls and hearts and personalities resonate.
Our humanity resonates.
Those three months I spent with Grey weren’t like a normal three months. We were together twenty-four hours a day, trapped together, facing death together. Shit, that was just a cherry on top of our friendship. As soon as our eyes met in the cabin that day, we knew each other in a way that would make it hard for anyone else to understand.
A throwaway prince. A hard-knuckled princess.
A very unconventional friendship.
“I want to work,” I agree as Grey lifts his gaze up to look at the vice president.
“If you and Beast are done fucking for now,” Crown says dryly, and I can feel his jealousy radiating down his arm and into his hand. His fingers tighten slightly. “There are plenty of tasks that need doing—especially with Sin and Grainger out of the office.”
“Just tell me what you need,” I agree, taking another bite of the sandwich and then slipping out from under Crown’s hand to head to the fridge. I know what I look like in the short-shorts I’m wearing, bending down to push beer bottles aside, looking for something non-alcoholic to drink.
I see a green bottle with Asian writing on it, and figure maybe it’s a bottled tea or something. I take hold of it and stand up to examine the label when Crown plucks it right from my fingers with a growl.
“Not that. It’s soju,” he says, and then gets close to me. “You won’t drink any alcohol when you might be carrying my baby.” He whispers this last part, his mouth far too close to my ear for comfort. I shiver all over, but I also laugh.
“Don’t think me marrying into this shit or considering having a baby gives you any control over me whatsoever.” My voice is too low for Grey or Reba to hear, but I can feel them both watching our interaction carefully. I toss my hair at Crown again, and he’s so close that it hits him in the face. I turn around suddenly, looking up at that hard frown on his pretty mouth. “And I didn’t know it was alcohol, you prick.”
Crown reaches past me into the door of the fridge and removes a water bottle, offering it up. I snatch it from his hand with a cocky grin.
“Thanks chief.” I use my hip to push past him, taking a seat in the chair again and heading for my second sandwich. I’m fucking starving. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“I’d prefer to have this conversation elsewhere,” Crown begins as more footsteps approach the kitchen. It’s intentional that sound, meaning that whoever is coming wants us to know he’s here. Beast. My entire body shivers in remembered pleasure, and I shift on the old wood chair—this one is pale blue with flaking paint—and revel in that sweet soreness between my legs.
“Mornin’,” Beast grumbles, reaching past me to snatch the bag of sandwiches. “You want any more of these, wife?”
“No, I’m good with what I’ve got,” I reply, trying and failing not to get any pleasure out of this simple domesticity. The guys and I have never had this or anything even remotely resembling this. I’m obsessed. It’s been a long time since I had people around me this regularly—people that I like, anyway. People that I’m close to.
I take another bite of sandwich, wondering what my sisters would think of this whole situation.
Posey would be jealous that I managed to snag the four hottest guys in the club for myself; Queenie would be happy as long as I was happy and being treated well. She’d encourage me not to let club business affect the rest of my life; she’d make me get my GED for sure.
It hits me suddenly that I have a third dead sibling to consider.
I’m the only Kesselring left, the only club brat still standing. Based on my behavior—or rather misbehavior—it’s not something anyone could’ve predicted. A friggin’ oracle would be shocked.
Beast surprises me by moving around to sit on the opposite side of the table, digging through the bag on his lap and taking out a sandwich.
“Cat isn’t going to let you hole up here forever,” Crown warns him, but Beast ignores him. I get a thrill remembering what he said last night, about how he was wandering until he found something to live for. Until he found me. That
’s one hell of a romantic confession.
My gaze slants over to Crown as I think about what Grey said, the undercover cop thing.
I’d love to know his full history, too.
“I had a task to complete; I’ve completed it.” Beast looks up, and a lewd smile spreads across his face. “We deserved a proper wedding night.”
“That was an entire day,” Crown quips, but Beast just shrugs.
“Takes as long as it takes,” he remarks, looking up to meet his VP’s eyes. He isn’t smiling anymore. “Soon as I eat, I’m headin’ over to see Cat.”
My blood goes cold as Grey looks between the two men with keen interest. They’re not saying anything important, or talking about anything he’s unaware of, but he’s a smart man. He’s picking up every nuance between Crown and Beast, every unsaid thing, all of those little tells like tightened jaws or raised brows or shrugs.
Grey realizes that I’m staring at him and smiles back at me, acknowledging that I know what he’s doing, but completely unapologetic about it.
“You’ve been seeing Cat regularly,” I suggest as Crown curls his fingers around the back of my chair. “How does he seem?”
“Terrifyingly blank,” Crown confirms with a sharp exhale. His breath stirs my hair, and I shiver. My body is well-loved and well-fucked, but still, my lower stomach muscles tighten at the idea of feeling Crown enter me, of him giving himself up to me completely, losing himself in me the way Beast and I did with each other last night. “Be careful.”
“He can’t kill me,” Beast says, taking half of the sandwich in one bite. I look back at him and our eyes lock. Can’t kill me. Not won’t. Can’t.
“Of course not,” Crown drawls out, releasing my chair and standing up straight. “Finish eating, Gidget. Get dressed.”
“It’s Gidge. I hate having to repeat myself,” I tell him, but he ignores me, leaving the room as Reba looks around like she has no idea how I survived eighteen years of this shit. “Reeks of testosterone and masculine bullshit, huh?” I query with a crinkle of my nose. “You learn to amp up your estrogen to combat it.” I pretend to turn an imaginary dial as Beast chuckles and rises to his feet, coming over and pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.
It should be a sweet gesture. Maybe it even looks like one. It feels like a carnal promise, something with heat.
I almost groan, closing my eyes against the pleasure.
“I’ll see ya when I get back. Stay with Crown and try not to get into trouble.” Beast stands up and nods at Reba. “Miss Keller,” he drawls, and she gives him a dirty look.
“Don’t think I don’t see what you did to her neck,” she says, all prim and proper, hands folded neatly on the surface of the table.
“Shoulda seen what I did to her—” Beast starts, but Reba’s preemptive gasp cuts him off, and he just laughs again. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?!” I call out, but Beast is already on his way out. There’s a hurried motion to his steps, as if he can’t bear to separate himself from me. I look after him with a curse, shoving the last of the second sandwich into my mouth.
With this sort of grueling schedule, I really do need four men all to myself, just so I don’t ever have to be alone. Not that I can’t take care of myself. Case in point: I defended myself at church camp. Sure, I got that girl—poor Carol Briggs—killed. But I survived. I survived a motorcycle accident. I survived the mafia.
Still …
At least right now, I need a guard at all times.
I am the Grey Wolfe Mafia’s number one target at the moment.
I can’t let myself forget that.
“I still can’t believe that you’re a married woman,” Reba says with a long, wistful sigh, as if she’s dreaming of a life she’ll never have. I know that’s what she wanted, to get married and have kids, to teach kindergarten. Now, she’s going to be a fucking nun, and all because I burn too hot and too fast and fall in love with older men I shouldn’t want and wasn’t supposed to have.
“I’m pregnant,” I say suddenly, before I can lose my nerve.
Both Grey and Reba go completely still.
“You’re …” Reba starts, her green eyes going wide. She slaps a hand over her mouth as I flick my eyes her way, trying to get a read on her emotions. She looks like she’s flip-flopping between several different options: fear, pity, excitement. “A baby.” Her breath releases in a rush.
I glance over at Grey, but if Reba is switching between several different emotions, he’s gone completely blank.
“You’re pregnant?” he clarifies, tilting his head just slightly to one side.
I nod, and Grey shakes his head.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Reba throws an annoyed look in his direction.
“You’re sorry? Babies are blessings.”
“They aren’t blessings to everyone,” Grey retorts right back.
It’s like I have an angel and a devil on either shoulder, offering up their opinions. Despite Reba’s kindness and Grey’s lack thereof, I wouldn’t exactly equate either of them to the side of good or evil. Just different perspectives.
“Yes, well,” Reba huffs, straightening out the skirts of the dress she’s wearing. It looks familiar, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s Queenie’s. I almost smile. Then I almost cry. Then I remember that there’s no way in hell Reba would ever wear Posey’s or my clothes, and she really needed something other than borrowed sweatpants and t-shirts to wear.
Someone—probably Sin—must’ve retrieved some of my sister’s things from Gram’s basement before the wedding.
“Yes, well, what?” Grey asks, and I look back at him to see that his forehead and cheeks are slightly red. He looks right at me. “Are you keeping it?”
“Whoa there, cowboy,” I whistle out as Reba gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“You are supremely rude,” she hisses out after dropping that hand to her lap. “How dare you pose such a question to a lady; it’s not your business.” Reba glances over at me, a slight fear wavering in her gaze.
“I don’t know yet,” I finally answer, and Grey stands up suddenly, looking down at me with an expression that makes me believe he really could take over the mafia if he wanted to. Without another word, he turns and storms out of the kitchen.
I look after him with a slight frown before glancing back at Reba.
“What the hell is his problem?” I ask, and she gives me a look that makes me feel like the young and inexperienced one in our relationship.
“Hun, Grey thinks he’s in love with you.”
Oh. Shit.
That really throws me for a loop, and I blink confused eyes back at her.
“Seriously?!” I choke out, because I’m not usually this stupid when it comes to things like that. I’d consider myself worldly and experienced when compared to most. “Fuck.”
Reba cringes, but she doesn’t follow after me when I stand up, trying to figure out where Grey would go if he needed a minute alone.
He can’t go outside; he’s been sleeping in a guest room.
Mm. No. The attic.
I head up the stairs, just in time to see the ladder being pulled up, and a curse slips past my lips.
I grab the small string with the little ball on the end of it that opens the attic door and yank on it, dragging it open and then putting my hands on the lower rung of the ladder. It slides open and I climb up into the dark shadows of the attic, lit only with a small camping lantern that Grey probably found in the boxes of crap strewn about. Doubt any of the guys would care to offer him something to light his way.
“Hey.” I pause at the top of the ladder, but Grey doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he leans back on a small chaise and ignores me. With a sigh, I continue up, dragging the ladder up after me so we can have some privacy.
I sit next to him on the chaise, even though it’s a tight fit.
“Whose baby is it?” he asks absently, gazing toward a small round window
on the far wall. There’s no glass in it, just wood shutters that are currently closed. It’s pretty early in the morning, but I imagine that when the sun does come up, rays of dusky sunlight will stream through those slats and make the strange planes and sloping ceilings of the attic glow.
“Not Beast’s,” I offer up, unafraid to be honest with Grey Wolfe, even about something like this. “Probably Grainger’s. I don’t know.”
He’s silent for some time, crossing his legs at the knee and curling his fingers together. He glances over at me, the light from the camping lantern hitting him beneath the chin and giving him this look of cold cruelty that I really hope doesn’t blossom into a dark rose. He needs to keep it contained, just as I need to work to control the fires of my own internal rage.
“You don’t love me,” I tell him, but he’s already shaking his head.
“You don’t know the shadows of my own heart,” he says, giving a low, caustic laugh. “Don’t be so presumptuous.”
“Don’t talk to me like we don’t know each other,” I warn him with a growl. If he’s going to drop into pompous mafia brat mode, then I can go full club on his ass. “That’s fucking stupid.”
“This whole thing is stupid,” Grey snaps back, reaching up to rake his fingers angrily through his hair. For the first time since I left the cathedral with Grainger, I wonder if Grey isn’t disappointed that we didn’t end up getting married. If, maybe, that’s what he wanted all along.
I feel like a total dickhead.
I guess I just assumed we both felt the same way. I look back down at my lap, picking at the peeling decal on the front of my shirt. The image used to be one of a sleek black and silver motorcycle, but a few tumbles through the washer and it’s coming apart.
“Are you happy here?” he asks eventually, breaking the silence before I get a chance to. “The way you talked back home, I couldn’t tell. There was melancholy in your words, sure, but I thought it was just a bygone sort of thing. But now here are you are, married and … pregnant.”
“You knew I was getting married,” I remind him, and then I think about the way Cat encouraged me to wear Grey’s engagement ring during that video chat, the way Grey’s eyes flicked down to look at it. Wow. Cat knew before I did, or at least suspected something.
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