Page 64 of Breathtaking

“He’s playing poker with your uncles in the game room.”

“Thanks, Nonna,” I tell her before leaving to find my father. And moments later, when I do, he’s right where she said he’d be. My Uncles Bash, Becks, and Cade, along with Grace’s dad, Declan, all sit with him around a poker table, cigars in hand and various drinks next to them as they hold their cards close. It’s something I grew up seeing and always enjoyed, but right now, I’m too pissed to appreciate the men in this room. Right now, I’m still seeing red.

“Dad,” I announce my presence, and everyone looks up.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Becket jokes, and I groan. “You didn’t just knock up a socialite. You went for a princess. Gotta tell you, kid, you really go for the gold, don’t you?”

“I will fucking gut you if you talk about her like that again,” I warn him, and everyone jumps up like I’m the first person to threaten death on someone in this house.

“Fuck, Sam... Get your kid under control,” Becket laughs, and Cade smacks the back of his head.

“You’re never gonna learn, are you, Becks?” Cade groans, while Bash and Declan look between my father and uncles.

I ignore them all and approach my father. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah... I’d say so.” He throws his cards down and grabs his glass of bourbon. “I’m out.”

I follow him through the door and outside onto the patio. “You want to try not threatening to gut your uncle like a fish the next time he says something stupid? Christ, if we killed family members every time they said something we didn’t like, we’d have lost Lucky years ago.”

“I need you to tell me I can’t kill a duke. Because I’ve got to tell you, I know you never wanted your business to touch us, but if that’s what it takes to make Lennon safe... Fuck, Dad. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make her safe.” The memory of her lying beaten and broken in the hospital bed flashes in my mind. “I’ve kept my shit locked down. I’ve done what she asked. I’ve come up with another way. But?—”

“But nothing, Maddox. You work the plan. Marry the girl. Give her your name. Our name. Protect your woman and your baby. Take it from me, son. There’s nothing in the world we won’t do to protect our families. And marrying her... loving her. That’s what she needs. That’s what’s going to keep her safe.”

“I don’t?—”

“Don’t lie to a liar, son. You do. You have for a long fucking time. You like to point out everything else your family and friends can’t see. Well, this is me pointing it out to you. That girl carrying your kid—she’s been yours for a long time.” He ashes his stogie on Mom’s pavers like she’s not going to kill him for that tomorrow, and my mind swims from his words.

“How would you know?” I finally ask, trying to figure out what exactly he knows.

“Do you really think you’re the first Beneventi to know everything, Maddox?” he challenges. “Don’t look for trouble, son. But don’t back down from the fight either. Do you understand me?”

I think about the lengths I’m willing to go to protect Lennon and the baby.

To protect my family. “Yeah. I understand.”

* * *

When I get back home, I go right to my room to check on Lennon and find her and Meatball in my bed. She’s wearing another one of my shirts, and every fucking protective instinct in my body roars to life, screamingmine. The lights are off, and the low light of the TV is the only thing illuminating her beautiful face. I fight the urge to wake her up and jump in the shower instead.

I walk into my bathroom and am immediately surrounded by Lennon. By the minty smell of her shampoo and conditioner. Her expensive perfume. Her body lotion. She’s already invaded my every waking thought, and lately, most of the ones while I’m sleeping too. But now... Now, jacking off in my shower to the memory of Lennon has become a regular thing.

It’s like we’ve somehow gone back in time to when we first met.

To the way I was obsessed with her.

I’ve wanted this woman for what feels like a literal lifetime. Then to finally have her here in my house, in my life, but still out of reach. It’s like history is repeating itself.

We talk and laugh like we used to years ago. She lets me cook for her—because some things never change, and the only thing Lennon Windsor is capable of making herself is tea and toast. But she likes to order dinner, so we can sit at the counter and talk about our days. The fantasy is right there, but it’s still just out of reach because she’s not ready for anything more. . . Not yet.

In the meantime, I’m left with a fantasy wrapped in the memory of that night.

That perfect cunt milking me...

Those pouty lips wrapped around me...

Green eyes looking up through dark lashes...

Do I want to fuck her again?

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