Page 29 of Nash

“I respect you and your business, ma’am.” Axel softens his tone, his glacial eyes addressing Stacey before he aims them at Ford. “But this is about family, too. It’s about your daughter.”

“Our daughter?” Ford sneers, whipping his glare around the room. “Who told you?”

Tension is rising, tempers, too, so I stand. “I did.” I address him and Stacey. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear your situation before I left, and I have a daughter, too. I’d do anything to protect her, so I took the liberty of calling an associate I knew could help.”

“You didwhat?” Vale mutters.

I glance down at her glaring eyes as Ford challenges Axel, “But you’re a land lawyer. I’ve seen your shingle on Meeting Street—Cummings and Associates. How the hell can you help our daughter?”

“Yes, I have a practice, but I have family, too, sir,” Axel answers him. “Please.” He gestures to the stairs. “May we speak privately? I need to protect them, too.”

Skepticism twists Ford’s face, but he nods and agrees. He and Stacey follow Axel upstairs as the rest of us watch.

Once they’re out of earshot, Blair sighs, “Fuck, that man just firehosed my panties.”

“Finally.” Jace chuckles. “She’s alive again.”

“Alive?” Vale hisses, turning to me, “No, I’m gonna kill you for calling that man, Mr. Orgasm of the Eyes Cummings, or whatever. You had no right to do that. You violated Stacey and Ford’s privacy.”

“No.” I lower my voice. “I’m helping them.”

“Helping them how?”

“Details, Ms. Monroe.” I raise my brow at her. “Remember what I told you about those?”

CHAPTER NINE

NASH

I’m a miracle worker.I’ve managed to piss Vale Monroe off so much that she barely speaks to me for three days.

The silence is golden.

And amusing.

Because I know she’s dying to say something snarky when I pick up another one of her books.

Last night, I readPussy: A Reclamation.Quite informative. Very arousing. Because, yes, I imagined Vale’s pussy the entire time. Tonight, I take her book and my spot on her loveseat while she sits on her bed, typing on her laptop.

After our days at Delta’s, this has been our nights…

I cook. She cleans. I read. She fumes. I smirk. She snarls. It’s domestic bliss.

So when I open her annotated copy ofArousal: The Secret Logic of Sexual Fantasies, she finally blows a gasket.

“Don’t read that!”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she huffs, “it’s private.”

Like a red cape to a bull, I wave the paperback. “It’s published.”

“It’s mine.”

I flutter the dozens of pastel tabs marking its pages. “Is someone shy about her sexual fantasies?”

She scoffs, “You couldn’t handle my sexual fantasies.”

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