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For some reason, I recognize them. Recognize the British accent. And I know I’m in trouble.
Kal Anderson is happy, and he bloody well deserves it.
“I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-three.” “Still far too young for me.”
Pausing, he adjusts the collar of his suit jacket, revealing a small pomegranate tattoo on his wrist. I cock a brow at the ink, aware of the Hades-and-Persephone dynamic he and his wife indulge in, but don’t question it.
Find someone else’s girlfriend to snog before I beat the shit out of you and get you banned from every pub on the East Coast.”
Wish I could explain the sudden need I have to make it known that she’s here for me, even if they don’t know it’s pretend.
And right then, I know. I’m fucked.
“You want my help, love?” His mouth morphs into a sinister curve, incinerating good intentions. “Beg for it. Right here, right now…where everyone can hear.”
“I won’t be kept from you,”
Elena Anderson, wife of the notorious doctor who owns part of Aplana Island.
Lenny isn’t Shakespearean blank verse; she’s a Greek tragedy wait- ing to happen.
“I reject the notion that I’d notice anyone but you,” he says quietly, piercing my heart with the tenderness of his words.
“Admit it, love.” My lips latch on to her neck, sucking hard before releasing with a wet pop. “Admit you think about me.”
“We aren’t strangers,”
“You want to come while he’s watching?” Jonas whispers, and I almost spit out my drink. “Show him, love. Prove to him who you belong to.”
Jonas Wolfe is a man of action, and he does not take well to threats.
“I do believe the W is my favorite letter. It’s so perfectly symmetrical and looks delightful when burned into one’s flesh. Wouldn’t you agree, brother?”
“They don’t matter,” he rumbles,
“You don’t know anything about me,” she says. “I want to. Desperately.”
“The next time I find you alone with Preston Covington,” Jonas rumbles, “he’s dead.”
Preston Covington will not survive me.
And for the first time since I met him, Jonas Wolfe smiles.
She goes willingly, and even though I’m not a cuddler or a dater, I let myself break the rules.
“You’re bound to hurt her, you know. That’s the Wolfe curse.”
Threading my fingers through her hair, I tilt her head back so she’s looking up at me and utter a soft “ցաւդտանեմ. Tsavt tanem.”
Let me take your pain.
“This is exactly where you belong, love.
Our living room may be filled with art, but you’re the most bloody beautiful creation I’ve ever laid eyes on. The museums and galleries should be envious.”
Neither one of us sees the punch coming, but before Daddy can finish his sentence, Jonas’s fist is connecting with the side of his head.
You deserve to have someone in your corner without having to beg them to show up in the first place.”
“That pain was mine, and you commandeered it. Stole it from me, and for what?”
“Because I bloody love you!”
CHAT IS THIS REAL
“Look,” he murmurs, his minty breath washing over my face. “I don’t know when it happened or what it means, but fucking hell, love. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been quite enamored with you for some time now.”
“It freaked her out because you were never really engaged. I fucking told you. Kallum, you owe me twenty dollars.”
The Wolfe family insignia.
“I do, you know. Love you. I don’t think this relationship has been fake for a while.”
Lenny Primrose (soon to be Wolfe) could easily start another war in her lifetime.
