Page 80 of Veiled Vengeance

“Finally,” I complain. Sitting up, I forget that my boobs are completely free. Asher gives me his “come hither” look, and my stomach flutters. I’ll never get used to that look.

Scrambling to get off the table, I flash Rio as well, and he gives me a whistle of appreciation. “No need to thank me so generously,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up,” I retort. Covering my breasts with my arm, I scurry over to the mirror in our entryway. Tears well up in my eyes as I examine the masterpiece Rio has etched on my skin. “It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand how this is supposed to be about you.”

Rio’s reflection joins mine in the mirror. “It’s not about us. It’s about you.”

My lips twist into a perplexed frown. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to be reminded of us. We’re already right here.” Leaning down, Rio kisses my hand where it rests over my heart. “Sometimes we forget who we are and what we are capable of, so I wanted you to have a permanent reminder of that.

Rio steps to the side and very lightly trails his fingers over the design. “Roses for love, beauty, and passion—to remind you that you are the most beautiful woman we’ve ever loved. Lavender for calm—to remind you not to give in to fear. Daisies for new beginnings—to remind you that you can always start over and keep going. Irises for courage—to remind you that you are brave.”

Asher joins us and wipes away the tears trickling down my face.

“What about the script?” My lip wobbles.

His finger traces each letter, sending a shiver down my spine. “Yo soy fuerte. I am strong.Yo soy hermosa. I am beautiful.Yo soy una diabla. I am a devil.”

Blinking away more tears, I sniffle in the most unattractive way. “Damn you, Navarro Flores.” A small chuckle escapes me. “It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

The front door bangs open and I squeal, diving into the living room to hide my half naked body from whoever just barged in.

“Angel!”

“Zane?” I poke my head around the corner. “What are you doing? You gave me a heart attack.”

Zane is panting like he just ran here all the way from the precinct. “She called.”

“Sharon?”

“Yes! She called. She said she has twin girls who need long-term placement and that they’ll be here in an hour.”

Oh my God. It’s happening.

After seeing Zane with Margaret and how Rio and Asher were gentle with Noah and August, we talked about becoming foster parents. The process to be approved was long and difficult.

Seriously. How was I supposed to explain to the social worker that I’m in a relationship with all three of them and two of them are together too?

Surprisingly, it went over well. With Zane being NYPD, Asher being FBI, and Rio being a former prosecutor, the social worker said we are more than capable of keeping children safe. Zane was more than excited to become a foster dad. Asher was timid, but it has grown on him. And Rio is always down for any and every adventure.

Sharon did multiple walk-throughs of our home, which Zane and Asher were very intense about baby proofing. We even did some renovations. We knocked down a wall between two of the bedrooms to make one large room for all four of us to share and the other two rooms are for whatever children the state of New York needs us to care for. I thought sharing a room would be stifling, but I’ve actually enjoyed it. But what sealed the deal for me was when Rio brought the huge mattress from my old apartment. I love the huge cuddle sessions.

And now we finally get to put those extra rooms to use.

My eyes go wide as I realize I’m still holding my boobs. “Shit! We need to get dressed!”

We all scramble to clean up, put shirts on, and get the rooms ready as Zane tells us about the conversation he had with Sharon. She said the four-year-old twins were found in a crack house hiding in a bedroom closet while their mother was high out of her mind.

An hour later, on the dot, the doorbell rings, and nerves take over my body.

Asher grabs my hands and blocks my view of the front door. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re ready for this.”

“What if I’m a bad mom? What if I hurt them, and I don’t mean to?” I stare at his chest, but I’m not actually seeing what’s in front of me. Instead, I’m envisioning every possible scenario in which I fuck up.

Asher tilts my chin so I’m looking up into his eyes. “I think every parent worries about that—it means you care. The bestthing we can do for these girls is make sure they feel loved and safe. We can do this.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

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