by Emma Slate
We found Ash at one of the slot machines and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She threw me a wide grin.
I looked at Flynn who was about to say something just as his phone vibrated. He growled. “This is my fifth phone call tonight.” He put the phone to his ear, shot me an apologetic look, and already began to turn away.
“Be my date?” I asked Ash with a wry grin.
“Sure. My husband ditched me to play poker,” she said.
“I saw.”
“So are you just going to stand there, or are you going to sit next to me and gamble?”
I sat down at the slot machine next to Ash and then my clutch vibrated. “Ah, crap,” I said when I looked at my phone.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s Evie.”
“Is Iain worse?”
“No. But apparently Noah and Hawk now have fevers too.”
“That’s not teething,” she said.
“Nope.” With a sigh, I hopped up from my seat. “I guess this is the part where I say goodnight.”
“Good luck,” she said with an understanding smile.
I walked out of the casino and headed down the expansive corridor lined with boutiques and restaurants. As I headed towards the lobby elevators, I texted Flynn to let him know what was going on and that I was headed up to the penthouse.
Finally making it to the rows of elevators, I pressed the up button. While I waited, my gaze wandered across the relatively quiet lobby since most of the guests were currently in the casino. I frowned when I saw a scene taking place by the exit.
A gorgeous woman with light blonde hair pressed herself against a man. He was angled so that his lower body was shielded by a large Ficus, but I could tell he was tall and broad. Suddenly, the man moved, the light catching the threads of his kilt. And that’s when I realized the man was my husband.
The elevator doors dinged open, but I didn’t step inside. Instead, I kept my eyes riveted to the scene playing out across the lobby.
Flynn roughly shoved the woman away from him. She clawed at his face, but he deftly managed to grab her wrists and hold them in one of his hands. Two men, one of whom was Brad Shapiro, swooped in to relieve Flynn of the angry woman.
I was too far away to hear what she yelled at him as Brad and the other security man escorted her out of The Rex. Flynn’s head drooped for a moment and then he swiveled his gaze. Our eyes collided and his jaw clenched.
I pressed the elevator button again, wanting to escape. I knew what my eyes had seen. The ultimate question was did I believe them?
Flynn had spent a lot of time away from Dornoch the last few months, focused on The Rex and its construction. And when he had been home, we hadn’t prioritized time to connect with one another. Could I blame him if he’d cheated?
“Barrett!” he yelled, the sound of his footsteps coming closer as he ran across the marble floor.
I refused to look at him, willing the elevator to come.
“Hen,” he began.
“Don’t,” I clipped.
“It’s not what you think.”
“You don’t know what I think,” I said, still refusing to look at him. The elevator opened and a crowd of people spilled out, drunk and excited for the night to continue. I dashed inside the elevator car, Flynn hot on my heels.
Before I could even press the PH button and find my key, Flynn pushed the button that locked up the elevator, ensuring I couldn’t escape. Flynn stalked towards me, pressing me against the wall of the elevator, pinning me with his body.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
He growled. “Barrett, if you give me thirty seconds I can explain.” When I refused to meet his gaze, he said softly, “I never took you for a coward.”
My gaze snapped up to meet his. “How dare you?”
“No,” he boomed. “How dare you! Do you really think that after all we’ve been through I would be unfaithful to you?”
“I wouldn’t begrudge you, Flynn.”
His face darkened with anger. “You wouldn’t begrudge me? What the fuck, Barrett?” His hands shot up to land on either side of my face, bringing him even closer.
“I’m saying I’d understand if you strayed,” I said. “I’ve been occupied. You’ve been out of town. Things happen.”
“You’ve been occupied?” he repeated. “By occupied, you mean raising our children? You think just because our marriage has been a little neglected that gives me grounds for cheating?”
I swallowed and lowered my eyes in shame.
“You think because of what happened between you and Dolinsky, I deserve a free pass?” he said, voice lowering.
“Well, yeah.”
We were quiet a moment and then I asked, “So who is she?”
Flynn took one of his hands off the elevator wall to lift my chin, so that I was forced to meet his gaze. “Burlesque dancer. I wasn’t in charge of hiring her—I left that to the club manager. Anyway, she was always late to rehearsal and completely unreliable. So I fired her.”
I frowned. “That’s not all of it. She did not look like a disgruntled employee.”
“She came on to me a few times.”
“Oh,” I said in understanding.
“She came back to make a scene, cause trouble. Security caught her before she could get to the casino. I was dealing with her.”
Flynn’s fingers skimmed over my cheeks, down my neck to dust across my exposed shoulders. “Do you believe me, hen?”
“Yes,” I said on a sigh. Flynn’s hands were wandering, eliciting chills on my skin.
“Do you believe I only want you? That I’ll always want you?” His lips grazed the curve of my cheek and then drifted down to linger at the corner of my mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed when his hands hiked up my dress to my hips. “What are you doing?”
“I think you need proof,” he said, sinking down to his knees.
“Proof?” I squeaked when his hot breath teased the inside of my thighs. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?” His fingers began to migrate.
“Because there’s a camera.”
“When have you ever been shy?”
“But—” I gasped when I felt Flynn’s hot mouth through my white lace underwear. He dragged his tongue across damp material, teasing me, prodding me. He bunched my dress in his hands as he kept his face between my thighs.
I lifted one my legs and placed it on his shoulder, spreading myself so he could devour me. Nudging the fabric aside, his tongue touched my bare skin, sending sparks of excitement through my belly. My hands gripped his hair as I roughly held him against me. His relentless tongue held me prisoner, the whiskers of his beard a beautiful torture. When he added a finger to his ministrations, I fell apart, coming hard against his mouth. I trembled in the aftermath as Flynn slowly removed my leg from his shoulder. My dress fell down, the sound of swishing fabric in my ears.
Flynn stood and blatantly adjusted his bulging erection, his own breathing labored. He pulled me into his arms. “Are we okay?”
“Yes. More than okay.”
“Then we should probably get back to the casino. People will notice if we’re gone.”
I finally remembered the reason I’d left the party to begin with. “Evie texted. The kids are sick. They all have fevers.”
He frowned. “Should I—”
“No. You have to go back to the party. I’ll text you and let you know.”
“You sure?” he asked, his hand cradling my cheek.
“I’m sure.”
Chapter 11
Pandemonium reigned. The nannies were frazzled, my children were in tears, and the penthouse was a mess. There was no way to comfort all the kids at the same time, and I briefly thought about calling Flynn to help. But he’d been waiting for this day, and I wouldn’t be the reason he didn’t get to celebrate the opening of his new hotel.
“A pediatrician is on the way,” Jen said, holding Noah close to her body and rub
bing his back in a soothing gesture. “He should be here soon.”
Evie’s attention had been pulled between Hawk and Iain, but she gave me a smile of relief when I took Hawk off her hands.
Hawk’s forehead blazed with fever. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, whimpering against my chest. “When did all this start?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
“Iain’s temp spiked about an hour ago and the other two began to feel warm around that time,” Evie explained. “Jen called down to the front desk and had the concierge track down a pediatrician.”
I brushed my hand across Hawk’s forehead. “It’s just got to be a bug, right? I mean, that makes the most sense.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Jen said in reassurance.
There was a knock on the suite door and I went to answer it. A middle-aged-man with gray hair at the temples stood at the threshold carrying a black leather bag.
“Mrs. Campbell?” he asked.
“Yes. Hi. You’re the doctor?”
He nodded and stepped inside. “I’m Dr. Patrick.” His eyes dropped to Hawk and with a gentle smile he asked, “Is this the sick one?”
“They’re all sick,” I blurted out.
He blinked brown eyes but didn’t appear alarmed. “Tell me what happened.”
“Iain got sick first,” I began. By the time I was done explaining the situation, Dr. Patrick was finished examining Iain and had moved on to Noah.
“Do you think it’s just a bug?” I asked.
Dr. Patrick pulled up Noah’s onesie and then he gestured to Hawk. “Can you lift up his shirt and show me his belly?”
I frowned, but nodded. Adjusting Hawk, I managed to lift up his t-shirt despite his squirming protest.
“You can put his shirt down,” Dr. Patrick said. “They don’t have a bug.”
“They don’t? What do they have?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Campbell,” the pediatrician said with a sympathetic smile. “Your children have the chickenpox.”
“All of them?” I blurted out. “But they don’t have rashes.”
“They do have rashes—along the scalp. It will be spread to the rest of their bodies in a few days. Don’t worry. They should be fine in about a week. Maybe ten days.”
“Chickenpox.” My head spun. Three children under the age of two with chickenpox. The universe was totally laughing at me.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I said, showing him to the door.
“Not a problem,” he assured me.
“Have the bill sent here, okay?” I closed the door after him and spent the next hour helping Jen and Evie get the kids to bed. By the time they were asleep, the nannies and I were exhausted. I sent them off to their own beds, thanking them profusely for all their help.
In the throes of all that had been going on, I’d forgotten to text Flynn. I knew he wouldn’t be up to bed until after dawn. The party had been going strong when I’d left; no doubt everyone was having a great time.
Everyone except me.
I was still in my formal dress but my hair had come down. A nightcap was in order. I poured myself a glass of scotch and was about to text Flynn when the door to the penthouse opened. My husband strolled in, immediately shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket.
“Hi,” I said in confusion. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be watching limber, flame-throwing acrobats?”
He shook his head and removed the bowtie from around his neck. “One of the acrobats fell and broke her ankle. That put a damper on the show.”
“Oh my God! Is she okay?”
“She went to the hospital, but she should make a full recovery.” He flung both discarded items onto a chair.
“Rough night,” I muttered.
“Aye. How are the boys? They okay?”
I laughed into my glass of scotch before I downed the rest of it. “Yeah. Fine. Except for the chickenpox.”
Flynn groaned. “No. Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Pour me some of that scotch, would you? I need it after tonight.”
“Get your own bottle,” I teased. “This one’s all mine.”
The next morning, I woke up to a fevered husband. “Well, love,” I said, taking the thermometer out of Flynn’s mouth. “You have a fever of 101. There’s no way you’re getting out of bed.”
“I feel fine,” he lied obviously.
“Yeah, I might believe that if you weren’t shivering,” I said, tucking the covers up under his neck. “Face it. You’ve got the chickenpox.”
“But I don’t have a rash.”
“Not yet. But you will.”
“I’ve already had the chickenpox,” he protested.
“Well, apparently you’re getting them again.”
“I have meetings—”
“I’ll cancel them.”
He glared at me. I unplugged the hotel phone and grabbed Flynn’s cell phone. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“You need to rest,” I said. “And I know you won’t get any rest if your cell phone is near you. If anything monumental happens, I’ll let you know.”
I leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Love you.”
He mumbled something in Gaelic under his breath. I didn’t for a second believe it was anything flattering. I closed the bedroom door and took a deep breath before going to see to my sick children.
By mid afternoon, I was ready for a drink. Between taking care of the kids and tending to Flynn, who was acting like a big baby, I was exhausted. Duncan popped his head in while everyone was napping.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, taking a seat on the couch.
“Flynn is whiny when he’s sick,” I said. “But please don’t tell him that.”
Duncan chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Ash said the same thing about me when I was laid up in bed.”
“You had good reason,” I said. Duncan had taken a bullet to the chest and almost died. “Do you mind taking over some of Flynn’s meetings? Answering some of his phone calls?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
I tossed him Flynn’s cell phone. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I don’t think there’s anything urgent at the moment.”
He nodded absently, looking at the phone in his hands as he leaned forward.
“Okay, what’s up?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“Are the nannies here?”
I nodded. “They’re napping. Which is what I should be doing,” I added.
“Can we go out onto the balcony?”
“Sure.”
Once we were settled on the balcony, the beautiful warm air caressing my skin, I turned to him. The sliding glass doors were closed, so we had complete privacy.
“Has Ash been acting differently?” he asked bluntly.
I frowned. “Differently? Differently how?”
“I don’t know. Something just seems off lately. I wanted to know if you noticed, or if she talked to you about anything.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
“Of course I asked her. She said there was nothing wrong.”
I held up my hands. “I don’t really know what to tell you then.”
He sighed. “I guess I’ll talk to her again.”
“Word of advice? Don’t ask the best friend if she knows anything.”
“So you wouldn’t tell me anything even if you knew?”
“Would you tell me something that Flynn told you in confidence?”
“Point taken. I don’t know though, Barrett. Something’s off with Ash.”
“Ash works things out in her own time,” I reminded him. “She’s probably processing and when she’s done, she’ll come to you. I wouldn’t worry about it though.”
“You’re right.” He looked relieved but still pensive. “I’ll give her some time.”
The sliding glass doors opened and Jen popped her head out. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Campbell is asking for you.”
“Okay, tell him I’ll be right there,” I replied.
“Oh,” Jen said, cheeks flaming pink. “I meant he wanted to see Mr. Buchanan.”
I faced Duncan. “Better you than me.”
Chapter 12
“This is all your fault,” Ash said to me without any real heat.
I raised my eyebrows. “My fault? Carys would’ve gotten the chickenpox at some point in her childhood.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Probably true. But don’t take this the wrong way—your children—”
“Spawn of the devil?”
“Pretty much.”
Poor Carys had come down with the chickenpox a few days after the boys. We currently had four children covered in Calamine lotion, mittens on their hands so they couldn’t scratch, and a routine of oatmeal baths. I had a photo of Flynn in the tub, surrounded by our three boys, all of them covered in oatmeal. I’d tried not to laugh while I was taking the photo, but it was just too good. I was thinking of having it blown up and framed.
The kids had gone down for the night about an hour ago and Flynn was in bed, dozing to a movie. Ash and I finally had a moment to ourselves.
I stared at her for a moment.
“What?” she asked.
“Anything you want to tell me?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You sure?”
She frowned. “Uh, yeah. Why are you asking me this?”
I paused just a moment before saying, “Duncan asked me if there was anything going on with you.”
“And what did you say?” she wondered.
“I said that you hadn’t confided anything in me, but if you had, I wouldn’t betray your confidence.”
“Really?”
“Really. Best friend clause. I love Duncan, but we’ve got history, Ash.”
“We do,” she agreed. “Doesn’t always mean what it should mean.”
We were quiet a moment and then I asked, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
“It’s okay, you know. Not to be okay right now.”