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“We know how that will end.” Bloody, probably. What’s another body or three to float down the flooded streets?
“Next week will be… uh, apple.” Wicker fluffs his pillow grumpily. “This shit is really ruining pies for me.”
“How do you live the life of a Royal, see all the jacked-up shit we have, and not be fucking terrified sending something you care about out into that sewer of depravity?”
There was a time when a glimpse of her on the monitors would have settled the restless storm in my chest, but it’s stopped being enough. I need to touch her.
Her palm flattens over her stomach, green eyes scanning the parking lot. “You promise you won’t leave?” So she is scared. Begrudgingly, I promise, “I’m not leaving you in there alone.”
There’s no denying Verity is my dream girl.
“Then I forgot to tell you how pretty you looked at the spa.”
She looks scared, her brows knitted together, but she also looks beautiful. Fiery, like an avenging angel.
Maybe that’s why, for the first time in my life, I decide to be brutally, painfully, terrifyingly honest. “Because the only time anything feels right is when I’m inside you.”
“I guess I figured whoever the father ended up being would get to decide.” Pace stops, staring. “I named my bird after a keystroke. Do you really want to find out what I’d name a baby?”
“Rise and shine, bitch!” comes Lavinia’s muffled voice.
She is me and I am her
“We’re ten minutes late already. Somebody—not naming any names—wouldn’t let me leave the house until we went eight rounds over possession of my jacket. Again,” he adds, “not naming any names.” And then Nick’s wry, “It was the Archduke.”
It’s too late to protect me, but maybe if you’ll stop covering up the past, you can help me protect my child.”
But now, with this little human growing in me, I see her differently. I see her as a woman. The same kind of woman I am now. A creator.
West End is more than a phase. In many ways, it’s grafted into our bones.
“Being a woman in Forsyth teaches you that your body is never your own.
I wish I could say Rufus was the only man that took what he wanted from me. What I can say is that he’s the only one who left something behind more important than life itself.”
“Why didn’t I terminate?” She shrugs, eyes devoid of emotion. “I thought about it. Even made the appointment up in Northridge. But I couldn’t do it. For once in my life, one of these men gave me something that was mine and mine alone.”
“You were a gift, Verity. My lifeline. You gave me the guts to stop playing around and become someone.
And I am sobbing now
“All I ever needed was to know you would never be the girl against that cold wall, scared and lost.”
Ugh not Mama B making me sob right now
“Verity, if you want out of this, tell me. I’ll make it happen. I was powerless then, but I’m not now. I’ve been collecting leverage for years. I can burn East End to the fucking ground.”
“He’s not taking my baby, Mama. I won’t let him.”
“Nothing is free,” she stresses. “A brand, a ring, a tattoo, a wrist cuff, a necklace… every Royal woman pays a price for those symbols. I paid mine.”
“Royal women don’t survive, Verity. Especially once they birth an heir.”
“Well, he did bring a dick to a gunfight.” A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth imagining my mother pulling a gun on King Ashby.
I didn’t groom you to be a Princess, Verity.” Her voice cracks. “I groomed you to be loved. Cherished. Protected, like the Mirandas and the Lavinias.”
“Because as loyal as I am to what I’ve built here, I couldn’t ever not love something you made.” She glances down at my belly, a sad smile touching her lips. “Not even the heir to East End.”
“Oh my god,” I breathe when it hits me. “Is that what this is? The coffee, the touching, the hair…” I shove his arm away, hissing, “You’re trying to get into my pants!” “Obviously,” he says. And then, a glare. “You like my hair.”
My ache for him rivals the one he has for me. Doctor, father, lover… they’re all the same; a man capable of giving me everything.
way Trudie is staring daggers at my hand on Wicker’s arm, she’s making it clear I don’t belong near him, specifically. Wrong, bitch.
“Don’t make me look foolish,” she quietly says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Today, you belong to me.” I don’t miss the icy look she shoots me, nor the scorching fury it ignites in my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I cut in, matching her tense, frigid smile. “But Wicker belongs to me first and foremost, especially on an occasion meant to honor the mother of his child.”
“But I can always call my father and double-check. He certainly wouldn’t want any misunderstandings as to the priority of his Prince.” She turns the full force of her stare on me. “Maybe you’re mistaken, Princess, because much like the catering, I paid five figures to have something pretty on my arm today.” The smile might still be plastered on her face, but the words she speaks are gritted through clenched teeth. So are mine. “Then maybe you should have bought a watch.”
I’m fuming the whole time he leads me out into the corridor, mostly because I can’t believe she had the fucking nerve, but also because I’m a daughter of West End. I was learning punches and grapple holds at the age of nine. I could rearrange the plastic in her goddamn face. But I’m pregnant. And I can’t fucking fight.
“That woman deserves a heel in her eye socket!” His eyes widen in disbelief. “Why? Because she made a deal with my Father that forces me to pretend I’m a doting lover to her in public?” “Yes!”
“It’s Mother’s Day, and you’re my—well, one of my baby’s daddies. I know you may not want to spend the day with me, but you sure as fuck shouldn’t spend it with that predator.”
“I didn’t come here because I’m jealous!” I squawk, leaning away. “I came here to apologize. And to rescue you.” “Rescue me?” he scoffs, lip curling snidely. “Because I need rescuing.” “Because you’re more than this!”
“I saw you, Wicker—the real you—and everything felt different. You weren’t a monster anymore. You were just…” At first, I think I can't possibly find the words. But he’s so close—close enough to reach out and touch, my palm cradling his pale cheek. “You were sad, and genuine, and scared, and beautiful, and…” His eyes are wide enough that I could count the capillaries if I tried. The truth is, I could go on and on, finding new words to describe the man I catch these stunning glimpses of. Maybe that’s part of the reason I confess, “You were someone I could feel myself falling for.”
“It’s excruciating to care about someone who hurts you.”
“I’m sorry, Wicker,” I say, “if I ever became that person for you. I know you didn’t want this. I wish…” I shake my head, laughing grimly. “I just wish everything had been different—for both of us. I think, in another life—”
How someone so beautiful can be so unreadable.
No one in this whole godforsaken town is as bulletproof as you are. You could probably strangle one of those bitches in broad daylight, and the rest of them would just worry about your manicure.”
I’m starting to think I’ve been reading her all wrong, which is embarrassing. I’ve been seeing her as a woman first and a West Ender second, but the truth is, she’s both things at the same time. She’s vulnerable, and she’s defensive about it. She’s pliable, and she’s fighting it. She’s desperate for companionship, and she resents it.
She’s not Michael Ashby with tits. She’s me with tits.
Oh Wicker
“I wasn’t built for attachments.” She looks up slowly, like she’s afraid to meet my stare. “I wasn’t asking for one. I just needed you to know why I did it. That I’m not just a traitor. Things had gotten confusing.”
You were this ridiculously hot redhead, all innocent and pure. Someone I might have actually wanted.” Giving in, I finally reach out and touch her leg, running my fingers over the pale skin. The frantic buzzing eases. “You’re defiant and determined. You’re all the things that he beat out of us a long time ago.”
I’m a symbol of health and fertility—of the future. But it’s all false imagery to convince the rest of Forsyth that the Princes are above the rest.
He’s a monster, and he’s created more monsters who, deep down, are rotten to the core.”
“You’re a pig,” she mutters, the playful glint in her eyes softening any sting to it. “I’m a pig?” I gesture to the trays. “You’ve eaten a dozen of those little cake things in ten minutes flat.” Her jaw drops, laughter spilling from her throat. “I had to! You were going to eat them all!”
Finally, I think, wrapping my arms around her. It’s just as good as I remember from those short nights in her bed, folding her into me like a new organ.
"Everyone's gone out of their way to make it seem otherwise, but I'm starting to think we're on the same side, Wicker." She glances up, meeting my gaze. "Maybe we should start acting like it."
