Page 228 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
Because—
What?
They were divorced?
When the hell did that happen?
Connie placed all the dishes on the table and poured our coffee.
“Thanks, Connie,” I murmured, though it made me uncomfortable that she was serving me.
I added a dash of cream and some sugar, then took a sip. The newspaper had been folded and set aside. He took his coffee black—probably needed it, if his drinking habits were anything like my mother’s.
The croissant was still warm as I cut into it. I smeared the berry conserve all over. If my time here was limited, I’d at least enjoy the food.
“What did she do?” I asked as soon as Connie closed the door behind her.
“What makes you think she did something?” he asked, eyeing me with suspicion.
“I’ve known her my whole life,” I said dryly.
“Mmm,” he hummed, cutting into his poached eggs.
The yolk split open and bled across the plate. He added a piece of sausage to the mess. I chewed my pastry and sipped my coffee.
“She cheated on me. Your mother’s in Edinburgh fucking her boss right now,” he said flatly.
Not angry. Not bitter. Just matter of fact.
“You’re not the first,” I said with a shrug. “And you won’t be the last.”
His eyes lifted. He finished chewing, then raised his cup to his lips.
“You realise she cleared out your trust fund?”
“I learned that when I turned twenty-one.”
“And you’re not angry?” he asked, brow raised.
“What can I do about it?” I sighed. “It’s done.”
I’d always known my mother was a greedy, toxic bitch. When she got married, she told me to keep my mouth shut. He didn’t know this was her third marriage. I learned to stay out of her fucked-up orbit when I was still a child. Honestly, sending me away had been the best thing she ever did for me.
“We could join forces,” he said so softly I thought I’d misheard him.
I waited for him to elaborate, watching as he raised his fork again.
“If you really want to stick it to your mum…” he said, trailing off as he took another bite, “Imagine how pissed she’d be if we were together.”
“Together?” I asked, even though some awful part of me already understood.
He couldn’t possibly mean—
His pale blue eyes darkened. The black of his pupils spread, swallowing the ice. Suddenly, the space between us felt… dangerous.
“She doesn’t know the divorce has been finalised,” he murmured. “She gets nothing. airtight prenup.”
His hand slid across the table and covered mine. I nearly jolted when the heat and weight settled—then his thumb brushed the side. Gentle. Nerve-racking.
