by C. M. Owens
“Yes,” Allie says, smiling softly. “You must be Ash.”
They start speaking, talking about the ins and outs of motherhood—no drinking while pregnant being one of them. And Tag smirks over at me as the champagne finally reaches us.
I grab a glass for myself and Allie, but she shakes her head in refusal.
“Angel. We’re driving back.”
“I can get us a driver. Mom has them on staff for these events.”
She purses her lips but finally takes one. “Fine. I’ll have a glass or two. I never have more than that.”
Neither do I, unless I’m in Cancun, apparently.
“Let me take your coat,” I say, already tugging her jacket off with my free hand. She puts her drink on the table beside us while letting the material slide off her shoulders with effortless grace.
A tortured groan passes my lips when I see all the newly exposed skin of her back, along with how damn good that dress fits her. It might as well have been made for her body. Fuck. Me.
One of the men working the party comes to take the coat from me, and he retreats toward the front closet. I let my hand glide down Allie’s bare back, unable to stop myself from touching her.
She doesn’t seem to mind when my hand stays at her waist, resting on her hip like I’m more than just her child’s father.
Most. Fucked up. Situation. Ever.
“So you work at the hospital?” Ash asks her.
“Yeah. I’m a scrub tech. It’s a good job. My hours stay consistent. It’s rare that they change for any reason unless I request overtime.”
As Ash and Allie stay immersed in idle chitchat, Tag grins over at me, moving closer and lowering his voice.
“The countdown begins.”
“What countdown?” I ask, confused.
His grin broadens as Maverick and the other Sterlings start piling in. Unfortunately, the Sterlings aren’t the only ones coming in.
Tag is grinning when I turn my attention away from the nightmare that just crashed the party and return my glare to him.
“What countdown?” I ask again.
With a smirk I don’t really like, he says, “Until you break.”
Chapter 18
ALLIE
She’s here. I knew she would be, but I don’t know why I expected her to look anything less than stunning. But Wren never loved her, never really cared about her.
Though the wounds of the divorce should still be fresh, he didn’t seem the slightest bit affected when he spoke about her. He actually seemed genuinely happy that she is out of his life.
Well, sort of out of his life.
“She came with Billy?” Ash asks on a gasp, her eyes finding the same thing I just did. “How stupid is he?”
From what I’ve gathered, Ash is trying to stay friends with Erica, but she’s making it hard on Ash because she’s changing and getting more cunning every day. And now she’s here with Wren’s brother… The same one she cheated on Wren with.
Yeah… That’s not making a statement. The sarcasm in my mind is almost tangible, and a few more snide comments play with it, battling to come out of my zipped lips. I’m not one to start drama, but the urge is definitely there right now.
Wren barely glances behind him, but he seems more bored than interested. I almost want to kiss him just to shove a figurative dagger in Erica’s cold heart. How could she do this? She’s screwing with two brothers that are already on the outs.
“Just when I thought I was starting to like the little fucker,” Tag says under his breath.
Ash shakes her head, rubbing her barely pudge of a belly through her very tight dress. “I can’t handle them right now. I might kill one or both or try to knock some sense into them. I need chocolate since I can’t have liquor,” she grumbles, which causes Tag to laugh as she walks off.
“I’m going with her. I’ll catch up with you two later. Ash might hurt someone in this state. She’s feisty right now—amongst other things. The other things are my favorite. Who knew pregnancy could be so much fun?” He winks at Wren, and I roll my eyes.
Men.
But that confuses me when I think about it. Hasn’t he already had one child?
I notice Wren flinches. He didn’t flinch when his ex walked in with his brother, but the mention of a pregnancy has him flinching. Ohh… He missed my pregnancy. He missed everything.
I really have to stop enjoying all the little moments he shows me he cares. Wren looking vulnerable is a big weakness for me. But he and I cannot happen. He knows it; I know it. Yet here we are, with his hand wrapped around me, and my body leaned against his like we can’t seem to stop touching.
I’m fairly sure this isn’t what most people do in this situation.
“I thought they already had a kid,” I say, ignoring all the confusing feelings that are festering inside me. “Why does Tag seem new to pregnancy issues?”
“Long story. Any idea what he’s talking about?”
It takes me a second to follow his train of thought, but I finally catch on. He shifts gears within a breath.
“Yeah. Every emotion is fairly extreme when you’re pregnant—at least it was for me. And your hormones are a serious pain in the ass. Something that would normally just irk you pisses you off. Something that would normally make you frown has you bursting into tears. I cried for two hours one day because I dropped the pickle jar.”
Wren’s eyebrows go up, and I swear he looks sexier when he’s being adorable.
“And he’s excited about that?”
I sputter the champagne sip I just took, and I laugh while shaking my head. “I doubt that’s the part that has him excited. Things can be… Well, intense. You also tend to want something much, much more than you ever thought possible. Again, I can’t speak for everyone, but judging by his wink, I’d say that’s what he’s referring to.”
He looks so damn confused, and I almost want to touch the wrinkle he has on his brow right now.
“Want something? Like food or something?”
I smirk while shaking my head, and it takes him a second to process it. But realization lights in his eyes. “Oh… Ohh.” Then in a flat, almost annoyed tone, he adds, “Oh.”
When he frowns and gets lost in thought, I get a little worried.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks up from his champagne, and I swear he looks a little pissed. What the hell?
“So you… I mean… Back when you were… Fuck! Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
A woman looks over with a disapproving frown when fuck leaves his mouth, and I cover my smile with my hand. He’s pissed because he thinks I had sex while I was pregnant.
A few months ago, I’d be insulted by the audacity he’d have to even hint at asking that question. Because it’s really none of his business. Now… I have no idea how to explain the satisfaction I’m getting from his obvious anger.
“Not while I was pregnant. At least not with a person,” I say, relieving him of the burden, but I can’t help but add a little fire into the conversation. “I handled things myself.”
This time, he sputters his drink. Hard.
“Christ,” he groans. “I really wish I didn’t have that image in my head of you getting yourself—”
“Wren,” a woman’s voice interrupts, and I tense immediately.
Wren’s arm returns to my waist when he finishes drying his mouth, and I turn around to see her and him. The guy I’ve seen pictures of is standing in front of me—Billy Prize. And he’s carrying Erica around on his arm like she’s a prize—no pun intended.
“Yeah?” Wren asks, sounding more annoyed than angry.
“I didn’t expect you to bring your baby’s momma,” she says with a condescending smile and a fake southern twang, making it all sound so tacky.
“Allie’s my date. And our daughter is a guest of honor tonight. Tread lightly, Erica,” Wren says, a hard edge to his tone. “That’s your only warning.”
Billy’s lips thin as though he wants
to say something, but he doesn’t.
“Last I checked, Billy is just as much a Prize as you are. Don’t threaten to kick me out, Wren. It’s not going to happen.”
She laces her fingers with Billy’s, causing a scene. I think she’s already drunk because no sane, rational person acts like this when they’re sober.
Wren smirks before coolly looking at his brother. “She’s your problem, not mine. Keep her under control, or I will have her removed. This is a classy event, not a place for drama.”
This time, the short brother does speak. “Last I fucking checked, it’s also my home. Don’t start this, Wren. I didn’t bring her to piss you off or start anything. I even called to ask if it would be okay for me to date her.”
He did? So weird.
“I don’t care if you date her. I care how she speaks to Allie. And I care how she acts in front of my daughter. And I care how she behaves at our mother’s party.”
Erica throws her head back and laughs too dramatically to be sober. Yep. Definitely drunk. It becomes more apparent when she sways on her feet.
“Wren, Wren, Wren,” she tsks. “Always so dull and mature.”
Wren eyes Billy again, and the brother huffs before rolling his eyes. “I’m not letting you kick her out. I’ll deal with her.”
Wren grabs Billy’s arm, tugging him back before he walks off, putting their faces closer together before he says, “Just because you’re a Prize, it doesn’t make us equals. I haven’t screwed everyone over, so I carry more weight than you. Remember that. If she pisses me off, she’s gone.”
I’ve never heard Wren’s voice take such a menacing edge to it. It’s a glimpse into the man he could easily be if he chose. And it’s amazing he chooses not to be this man. Well, not under normal, less stressful situations.
Wren takes my hand, and I watch as Billy shoots daggers at his brother’s back, venom seeping from his glare.
“What was that about?” I whisper, turning away.
“Billy shows out. Always has. Does what he can to hurt everyone. He’s trying to get a rise out of me, just like he always has. He’s been jealous since we were little, even more so since Mom entrusted me with the larger businesses that I no longer run. Well, I run them, but I don’t manage them. I still handle all the major decisions. Billy feels like it should have been him.”
Wren’s family isn’t as perfect as I’d imagined before I knew him.
“She didn’t think he was mature enough? I understand that. He’s acting like a brat right now.”
He laughs, much to my surprise, and he drops his arm around my shoulders before pulling me against him, as though he needs to feel me. So confusing.
“He is a brat. But she didn’t give him the businesses because Billy works off numbers only. If he felt he could make more money by selling off pieces of the businesses, he would have. Mom wants everyone in her company to have stability in their jobs.”
Business and family—I’ve always heard they don’t mesh well together.
“He’s also pissed because Tag and I just bought another business, even though Billy offered much more money. The prior owners knew Billy would just divide the business and sell it off in pieces. Tag isn’t like that and neither am I. So we got what Billy wanted. It only adds fuel to the fire whenever I get something he wants. He always lashes out. This is him lashing out.”
“That’s seriously screwed up and wrong,” I tell him, actually feeling pissed on his behalf.
“It’s nothing. Billy had a good girl not too long ago—one that adored him and loved him. Her name was Shannon, and she’s Ash’s friend. But Billy is his own worst enemy and sabotaged the relationship by cheating on her the second Erica and I started talking about divorce. Erica went to him again in order to hurt me—which it didn’t. He did it because he loves the chase, the conflict, and the exhausting drama. Shannon was in love and easy for him to be with. Billy doesn’t do easy.”
My stomach churns with disgust. I think I hate Billy Prize. Wren’s much better than I would be. If Bella screwed me over like that, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. But I know I wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as her.
My eyes fall on Tag and Ash as he spins her to him, dancing with her to the soft music of the stringed quartet—yes, there’s a stringed quartet here. I’m almost surprised there’s not an orchestra.
A small smile plays on her lips as she rests her head against his chest, and Tag holds her to him like nothing else in the world matters. Kode pulls Tria out to the middle of the floor, smirking like he has a secret, and she willingly lets him ease her against him, leaving no space between their bodies as he starts dancing with her.
But I almost laugh when I see Rye and Brin. They look so sweet right now, his arms are around her, her head is nestled in his chest as they dance like it’s a junior-high dance. I keep waiting on her to do something wicked, but she seems to be too happy and content to make his life hell for the moment.
Rain and Dane are also dancing… He really is a sexy, smooth guy. I swear he looks like he was made to hold her that way. Slowly, my eyes drift to Raya and Kade, but I look away quickly, laughing lightly.
I really don’t need to see Kade devouring her like no one else is around.
Wren’s hands slide around my waist, and my breath catches in my throat. “Let’s dance,” he whispers close to my ear, his breath doing delicious things as it slithers provocatively down my neck.
“Is that a good idea?” I ask carefully.
“Probably not, but I still want to dance with you.”
Yeah. Like I can stop myself from melting.
He turns me around and moves us through the crowd, his eyes holding mine, as a half-cocked grin plays on his lips. The space between us disappears when he starts moving me to the music, holding me tight and staring down into my eyes the entire time.
My entire body is on fire. I don’t know how much more torture I can endure.
But hearing Erica calling for Wren is like ice water on the fire, and he groans before brushing his lips against my forehead.
Erica is staggering drunk now, and Billy is right on her heels, trying his best to get her under control. It’s pointless though. A champagne flute shatters as she bitterly yells and causes a scene. Amongst the rustling and indignant gasps of shocked bystanders, I can’t really understand her words.
Wren abandons me to go whisper in some guy’s ear. The next thing I know, Erica is being hauled out of the room by three men, and Wren is pulling my hand in his, moving us toward a set of stairs.
“I think it’s time to check on our daughter,” he says calmly, as though he didn’t just have to have his ex escorted—well, manhandled—out of here.
The man is made of stone, completely in control of his every emotion. I almost envy is impenetrable composure.
“Oh!” we hear Melanie say, stopping us before we can reach the stairs. Either she’s oblivious to what just happened, or she simply doesn’t want to give Erica the satisfaction of acknowledgement.
Wren turns to her with a cocked brow. “Oh what?”
I don’t think I like his mother’s smile right now. She looks like she just quilted a blanket of mischief.
“You’re under the mistletoe.”
My eyes widen as Wren’s head falls back. I follow, looking up as well. Sure enough, there’s a freaking huge bundle of mistletoe. Hell, that could be a chandelier. How did we miss it? And why is it in front of the stairs?
“It’s bad luck to ignore mistletoe,” Melanie points out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Damn.
Wren shakes his head, looking a little confused and uncertain. Five seconds ago he had his ex dragged from the party, and he was the picture of composure. But now he seems nervous.
For some reason, we seem to have gathered an audience. All of Wren’s friends are looking on with unmasked amusement, including the longer-haired, sexy guy from earlier—Corbin. He’s standing with a dark-haired guy that is wearing a shit-eating grin.
&
nbsp; “Come on, Wren,” Tag taunts, winking at him. “Surely a little kiss isn’t so bad.”
I feel the blush creeping up my neck, but I’m also fighting back a smile. The look of pure torture on Wren’s face is a little funny.
“You do have a kid already, so quit acting like kissing her is so terrible,” the dark-haired guy beside Corbin says, grinning salaciously.
Terrible? I hadn’t thought of him thinking it was terrible. I feel vain, because I thought it was because he was barely holding himself back. Shit. Terrible?
“Shut up, Maverick,” Wren groans.
“You gotta kiss the girl,” the dark-haired guy who is apparently named Maverick sings, doing a really good job of mimicking Sebastian from The Little Mermaid.
Everyone looks at him, and he shrugs, unaffected by the mocking grins. “What? I was with Carrie earlier and she was watching it.”
Dane laughs while shaking his head, and Rain does the same thing. I turn to Wren as the others continue to heckle him.
“You can just give me a quick peck,” I dare, even though we both know he won’t. He’s seconds away from… oh damn.
His lips come down on mine. Hard. He roughly pushes his fingers into my hair, angling my head to give him more access, and acting as though he was only waiting for my permission. This is so not a mistletoe kiss.
I think I moan—no, I know I moan—when his tongue slips between my lips and toys with my libido. My hands fly to his shoulders when he jerks me up against him. I can’t remember ever being kissed like this before.
It’s hungry, raw, carnal… and in front of everyone. But the thoughts of an audience flees when he nips at my lower lip between thrusting his tongue back in, and I sag against him, forcing him to hold me up.
A loud, obnoxious throat-clearing comes from… somewhere, and Wren finally pulls back reluctantly, leaving me breathless and wobbly. With my eyes still closed, I continue to lean into him like he has a gravitation pull on my body, and I can’t seem to shake free from the trance I’m in.
“Sorry,” he says on a rasp whisper as my eyes slowly open, blinking as I look up into his piercing blues.
Sorry?