Page 76 of Barristers & Bones

Late Sunday morning, I groaned awake, rolled over, and noticed Roman’s side of the bed was empty. I sat up, looking around. The air smelled faintly of sex and his cedar scent, but the house felt empty.

After cleaning up, I tugged on a loose sundress with a built-in shelf bra and walked out into the living room. I could hear someone in the kitchen and followed the noise.

Milo stood in the kitchen and held up his coffee cup when I walked in. “Good morning. Roman left early, but I made coffee cake and cut up some fruit if you’re hungry.”

The aroma of brewing coffee and warm vanilla made my stomach growl. “Thanks. Did Roman say where he was going?” I fingered the tracker at my neck.

“He’s meeting with one of the partners. That’s all I know.”

“I’m going over to the Palm Desert Oasis Mortuary for our monthly Sunday poker brunch. I assume you’re coming with me?”

“Where you go, I go.” He tilted his head. “Did Roman okay it?”

Irritation blossomed in my chest, and I squared off with Milo. “Roman doesn’t have to ‘okay’ where I go.”

He held up his hands. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Yes, I think we did. Because you keep putting yours in your mouth. I don’t need to explain my family to you, and Roman already has a damn tracker on me, so you can both go fuck yourselves. I’m leaving in ten minutes. If you’re coming, be ready.”

I turned and strode to my makeshift study, not ready to smell Roman’s scent or see his belongings mixed in with mine in the room we shared. My mind raced as I ran through the conversation with Milo. He’d been judgmental and then patronizing, but my emotions were all over the place, and I’d lost my temper.

When I returned to the living room, he was on the phone. “She’s right here. Do you want to talk with her?”

“Really? You called him?” I knew he was talking to Roman.

Milo handed me his phone. “I’ll be in the car when you’re ready with the coffee cake.”

He walked out to the garage, and I put his phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Roman waited for a few seconds. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.”

“Are you angry?”

“More like frustrated, annoyed, and irritated.”

He exhaled. “What happened?”

“He asked me if you gave me permission to go.”

“Ah.”

I stared down at my feet. “Yeah. Did he get the idea from you that I need to get approval every time I leave the house?”

“Maybe. I didn’t tell him you couldn’t leave without my permission, but he knows you’re wearing my tracker.”

My stomach tightened, and I walked over to the back windows to gaze out at his multimillion-dollar views of the Strip. It was overcast and a little smoggy today–the weather fit my mood perfectly. “Do you have any updates on the Stracks? How long do you think we’ll need to do this?”

He paused and his voice went low. “What do you mean by ‘this’?”

“You know,this. Me living at your house, us being married, me having to ask permission to go anywhere, and a judgmental bodyguard attached to my hip?”

“I don’t have any news, but we have some leads. And Luna?”

“Yes?”

“My patience and our truce are officially done. If you refer to our marriage in that tone again, I’ll take you over my knee and spank your sweet ass until you can’t sit for a week. Are we clear?”

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