Son. Of. A bitch.
I look away to find the other woman in the room staring at me, her brows raised and her mouth tight. Based on the photo he showed me earlier, I know this is Logan’s sister, and she doesn’t look to be a fan of mine. Women rarely are. I might be a champion of women, but I don’t give off soft, pliant, girly vibes. I go for more badass boss babe, and that tends to make people uncomfortable.
“Umm,” the beautiful redhead clears her throat as she moves next to Rafe. “What is she doing here?”
Definitely not a fan.
“Hi.” I offer her my hand. “Olivia St. James?—”
Logan turns, wrapping an arm around my waist, dragging me next to him. “Adler,” he corrects me, his fingers squeezing my hip as he lays it on thick as molasses, and my eyes fly up to his. “My wife.”
Guess we’re just cannonballing right into the deep end...
“I thought...”—I look up at him adoringly, which is not an easy feat—“we talked about this,honey. I’m keeping my maiden name.”
“You’re what?” Waverly sputters, her eyes blinking too fast to be anything but shocked.
“I know you’re keeping St. James professionally, Olive.” Logan ignores his sister’s obvious discomfort. He’s too busy having fun at what feels like my expense, and I swear, if I could get away with stomping on his foot right now, I’d do it just to wipe the smug smile off his face. “But I thought personally you’d be taking Adler.”
Maggie slaps either side of Logan’s face with her chubby hands, demanding his full attention back on her, and I think we may have just broken Waverly. Her mouth gapes open and closes like one of the large-mouthed bass my brother used to fish in the lake behind our house growing up. Unlike the fish, her blinking slows, and what little color she has drains from her face.
“Sorry, Maggie. Daddy missed you too.” Logan’s voice is soft as he wipes a fat tear from his daughter’s cheeks and brushes light-brown curls away from her face. “But I have someone very special for you to meet.” His tone is sweet and sincere. Too sincere, considering he’s lying to this little girl. He shifts Magnolia to his hip and turns toward me. “Maggie, meet Olive.” Logan says it formally, like he expects the one-year-old to understand. “My wife.”
There goes that word again.
Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, Olivia . . .
Maybe if I say it to myself a few times, the room will stop spinning like a goddamned black hole. This was my idea, so why does that single word have me feeling like I should check my entire body for hives?
Magnolia lays her head against her daddy’s chest and blinks her big blue eyes at me.
There’s no way she understood what Logan just said, but woman-to-woman—well, woman-to-future-woman, I think this baby just laid claim to her daddy and told me to back the hell off him. I refuse to acknowledge the weight of Waverly and Rafe’s stares as I take a step closer to Logan and Maggie, reminding myself this has to be believable. I have to pass this test and right now, I’m failing.
Gently, I run the tips of my fingers along one of Magnolia’s pajama-clad arms. “Hello, Maggie.”
Okay, so maybe I coo the words a little.
She’s adorable and clearly judging me.
Not that I blame her.
I’d judge me too.
“I’m sorry. I must have heard you wrong.” Oh shit. Waverly’s voice just pitched into a frighteningly high octave. “You did not just say that Olivia St. James is yourwife.” Her voice might be so high-pitched, I’m surprised anything other than a dog can even hear it, but that last word was basically shrieked as another man walks in, this one broad, with golden skin and dark hair, similar to Rafe, only he’s maybe a decade older.
Ahh... This must be the elusive oldest Langley brother.
“The fuck?” he asks, his dark eyes brimming with fury as they dart from Rafe to Logan. “One of you assholes married the uptight ice queen who cost Logan his contract?”
Oh, fuck me.
Does the entire family believe this bullshit?
“Hi.” I offer him my hand, determined to be the bigger person. “I prefer Olivia, but I guess the press did run with that wholeice queenthing for a hot minute.” More like they’re still running with it. Remind me why the fuck I married this asshole? Oh right. Because I want to be partner. I’mgoingto be partner. And the asshole who threw me under the media bus the size of a tractor trailer is going to make it happen. Pretty sure that’s going to have to become my new mantra if I want to get through these next few months. Fluttering my lashes, I look up at Logan. “Thanks again for that, hubby.”
The oldest Langley leaves my hand hanging as he focuses on Logan. “Seriously? Didn’t I tell you two what happens in Vegas stays in fucking Vegas? You don’t bring strays back to the fucking house.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, venom dripping dangerously from my lips. “You did not just?—”
