Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I parked at the curb and walked to the front door. The lights in the window were on, so I knew she was in residence. My hands straightened my obnoxious suit jacket before I walked up the stone steps.
The door opened—and it was Cauldron. “Bartholomew.”
I gave a slight nod. “Is she ready?”
“Trying to fit into her dress.”
It was an odd thing to say, so I gave him a stare.
“She’s pregnant.”
Great.
“She’s not showing yet. But in another month or two, it’ll be an issue.” He opened the door wider so I could enter the townhouse.
My eyes swept the room as I looked for her. The downstairs was empty.
“This is the part where you say congratulations.”
I turned to look at him, my hands sliding into my pockets. “I guess we have different definitions of accomplishment.”
Cauldron held my gaze, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt like he intended to sit on the couch until she came home.
“Is this something you even want?” I asked. “Or something she wants?”
Cauldron considered his response before he spoke. “I have my reservations. But if I’m going to do this with anyone, it’s her.”
“Your life is going to be piss for the next twenty years.”
He stared. “Had a bad childhood?”
I looked away and ignored the question.
“You can’t have the good without the bad. You’ll never have a son stand at your height unless you hold him in your arms first.”
“You know what I don’t like about kids? They grow up to be people—and I hate people.”
Camille came down the stairs at that moment, wearing a black cocktail dress that hid her small stomach. She had her clutch under her arm, her thick hair in shiny curls. She only had eyes for Cauldron as she said goodbye. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
He kissed her and let her go. Then he looked at me. “I don’t see how this is going to work in a couple months.”
“Figure it out—because you made a deal.”
Camille sat beside me at the table. Dinner had already been served, and the plates were being cleared. There was a crowd around the prime minister, and my opportunity hadn’t arrived yet.
Her hand went to her stomach under the table. “I’m not sure if Cauldron told you—”
“He did.”
“We started trying, but we didn’t think it would happen so quickly.”
My eyes were focused across the room, watching the way the prime minister’s wife sat there in silence because no one was interested in speaking to her. Camille couldn’t distract her because she wasn’t even part of the conversation.
“I’m so excited.”
Was she still going on about it?
“Is there something wrong, Bartholomew?”
“No.” I kept my gaze focused.
“You just seem more…angry than usual.”
“I guess I’m a little tired of all the pregnancy talk.” Maybe that would shut her up.
She turned quiet.
Thank God.
“I thought you would be happy for us.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who’s happy for other people.”
“Because you aren’t happy for yourself?” she snapped.
A little smile moved on to my lips. “Guess you could say that.”
“You don’t ever think about the future? Ever think about settling down—”
“No.”
“There’s more to life than money—”
“Only poor people say that.”
“Well, I’m not poor.”
“But you were.” My eyes remained focused, trying to figure out an opening for a conversation.
“Alright, enough of the baby talk.”
I grabbed my glass and took a drink. It was white wine—far too sweet for my taste.
“How are things with you?”
“We don’t have to talk.”
“See?” she said. “You’re angrier than usual.”
“Not angry. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Like?”
“I’m about to take Italy. Begin my distribution there. Make the Skull King my bitch.”
“The Skull King?”
“Not important.”
“Well, you should get laid during all this ambition because you’re tense.”
“I am.” I hadn’t seen Laura since we’d returned to Paris. We both had shit that required our attention, work that we had to catch up on. It’d been five days since I’d had those tits in my mouth, and I was definitely starting to miss it. Every time I got a waft of roses, my dick got hard.
“Well, the whores aren’t working because you’re still an ass.”
“She’s not a whore.”
“She?” Both of her eyebrows rose at that bit of information. “That sounds singular.”
I’d said too much.
“Do you…have a girlfriend?” She said the words with utter shock, like she couldn’t believe someone like me could be monogamous.
It was a fair assumption, I supposed.
“Holy shit, you have a girlfriend?”
“That’s not how I would describe it.”
“Alright, then how would you describe it?”
“She’s my woman.” I kept my eyes across the room, dividing my attention between two different things.
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not in the slightest. A teenage boy can have a girlfriend. I have a grown-ass woman.”
“This sounds serious.”
“No.”
“My woman sounds pretty possessive.”
“Because I am possessive. I’m possessive toward all things that belong to me. My money. My cars. My homes. She’s just another item on the list.”