Page 14 of The Hottest Daddy
“You shot her in the gut, didn’t you? Some mistake.”
She barely had time to react before his hand was around her throat. “Firstly, I didn’t shoot anyone. My hands are clean. Secondly, Marley wasn’t the intended target and the man responsible has been dealt with. Thirdly, you keep your whore mouth shut or maybe something bad will happen to you.”
Angelina wasn’t frightened. In fact, his roughness turned her on and she looked at him with new respect. “Fine.”
He released her and went back to getting dressed. Angelina licked her lips. “Why don’t you forget getting dressed and come fuck me again?”
Scanlan stopped, considering. “Get over here,” he said finally, and she obeyed him. He pushed her down onto the bed, unzipping his fly, not bothering to take any other clothes off. “Suck me,” he ordered, and she obliged, taking him into her mouth and drawing on him, teasing his tip with her tongue. She smiled when she heard his groan, but then as she heard him call out another woman’s name—Marley! Marley!—her anger erupted and she bit down … hard.
With a scream, he cuffed her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor, her jaw on fire. “Fucking bitch!” He kicked her hard in the stomach, then, grabbing his jacket, he tucked his wounded cock back into his pants and stormed out.
Angelina rolled onto her back and smiled to herself. The bruised jaw was worth it. Firing up that psycho Scanlan was more exhilarating than any sex. She’d met him a few years back and recognized the same narcissistic tendencies in him that she relished in herself. She loved the violence in him—it inspired her own bloodlust. When he’d had his object of affection shot, Angelina had laughed. Yeah, so maybe he hadn’t meant to kill Marley Locke, but Angelina had been on the end of Marley’s sharp intelligence once too often and she had crowed at the thought of the young woman—the way-too-beautiful for Angelina’s tastes young woman—brought low by an assassin’s bullet. She’d even managed to bribe her way into Marley’s room as she lay in a coma after the shooting. Staring down at her nemesis, she’d wondered why Scanlan was so obsessed with her.
But then, Angelina knew obsession. Her stepson, only a few years younger than herself, was hers. River. Beautiful, vulnerable, brilliant River. Angelina had deliberately pursued Ludo in order to get to his son, managing to seduce the old man just so she could get close to the boy. But River had had more about him than she’d realized. Behind those astonishing green eyes was a man who knew what he wanted—and he’d seen right through Angelina. When she’d made her move, after Ludo’s death, River had rejected her outright, his loathing for her a raging, angry thing.
No matter. In time, he would be hers. It had been a couple of years now and news from Colorado had traveled to Manhattan. River was losing his sight, or at least partially. She knew him enough to know it would kill him to be unable to paint.
Maybe it was time his loving stepmother paid him a visit to comfort him in his hour of need. Angelina laughed to herself. Yes.
Maybe itwastime.
Chapter Seven
April, Colorado …
As far as Sunday was concerned, the past two months, working on the diaries, making friends, hanging with the friendly folk of Rockford, had been some of the happiest of her life. Every day she would get up early, go share a breakfast coffee with Daisy or Cleo or sometimes both, then drive up to the Giotto place—even she called it The Castle now.
Carmen had told her that River had been called away for a few weeks and that when he returned, Berry would be with him permanently. In the second week of April, Carmen told her that they would be back the following week. “I have to get a room ready for Berry,” she told Sunday. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me pick out some things, would you?”
“Of course, I’d love to.” Sunday was touched. She and Carmen had grown close over the past months and the fact that she trusted Sunday with such an important job meant the world to her.
They drove into Montrose and found a place to buy paint and art for the walls of the room. Sunday asked Carmen what Berry was like, what things she liked to do, and, finding she was a bookworm, (“just like her dad”), Sunday suggested they make her a little reading den in one corner of the room. “We can add string lights and pillows and make it a little escape place for her.”
“I love that idea,” Carmen enthused and laughed. “I kind of wish I had one myself.”
“I swear, I’ll never grow out of wanting a reading nook,” Sunday chuckled. “Speaking of books, let’s find some bookshelves for her.”
They had a wonderful day shopping together, enjoying a lunchtime meal, then driving back, chattering away.
They spent the week preparing Berry’s room, setting it up, and on the day before River and Berry came home, Sunday made sure everything was in place. She worked until after midnight and decided to sleep on the couch in her office instead of driving home. She could barely open her eyes by the time she was satisfied everything was ready.
She stripped down to her underwear and pulled a comforter over her. She was so exhausted, she fell asleep immediately and was only half aware when she felt someone slide their arms under her neck and knees and pick her up. She felt the cool of the night air, then, as she was gently placed on a bed and a warm blanket was pulled up over her, she mumbled some thanks and was asleep again.
In the morning, she woke and realized she was in a room she had never seen before. The bed was huge, dressed in clean white sheets and a navy-blue comforter. A robe lay across the end of the bed, and for a moment, she wondered if she was about to see someone come out of the en-suite bathroom.
But the room was quiet. She slipped the robe on and went to splash water on her face. There was a brand-new toothbrush and toiletries on the side and she quickly showered, shoving her underwear into the pocket of the robe. After brushing her teeth, she padded down towards the kitchen. She heard Carmen’s voice, then a child laughing. Shyly, she poked her head around the door. Carmen saw her. “Hello, sleepyhead. River said you were out for the count.”
Riverhad moved her to the bed? She’d never even laid eyes on him, yet he’d been so gentle with her, so caring. She smiled at the little girl at the breakfast counter. “Hello. You must be Berry.”
“I am, hello. You are Sunday?”
Sunday grinned. Carmen had told her Berry was precocious. “I am. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Berry said formally and got down from her chair. To Sunday’s surprise, the little girl held up her arms, wanting Sunday to pick her up. Sunday glanced at a beaming Carmen, who nodded encouragingly. Sunday bent and swung the little girl into her arms. Berry immediately planted a huge kiss on Sunday’s cheek. “Thank you for my book den. Auntie Carmen said it was all your idea. I love it.”
Sunday flushed. “Ah well, you’re very welcome, but Auntie Carmen was just as involved. We both enjoyed making it for you.”
She sat down and settled the little girl on her lap. Carmen pushed a mug of coffee over to her. Berry watched her, grinning. “Sunday is a pretty name. You have nice hair.” She curled a lock of Sunday’s brown hair around her little finger. “My mommy had nice hair too. We made it look extra-special for the casket. My mommy went to heaven.”
