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“I don’t like it.”
“He’s just worried. Gambling debts. He was hoping to use Brielle’s money to pay them off.”
Liam shakes his head. “What a fool. Still, I don’t like it. Should we get bodyguards? Maybe I should start driving you around.”
“Don’t. You’re a busy man, and you’re already working so much. I don’t want you to come even later than you do now because you’re spending too many hours acting as my chauffeur. As for bodyguards, I don’t want people hovering over me. I hate the idea of being watched.”
He looks at me for a moment, then sighs. “But it’s for your safety.”
I squeeze his hand. “If I can’t handle it on my own, I’ll ask you for help. I promise.”
“Okay. I don’t like it, but…okay.” He stares at the floor, then shakes his head. But when he looks up again, I can tell he’s accepted my decision. “By the way, can I tell my brothers about the baby?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Just wanted to make sure, since you were so secretive about the wedding. My family will be thrilled.”
I kiss him. “Tell ’em all. I want everyone to know about our baby, Liam. And I want it to receive all the blessings from your family.” Nothing but curses will come from Hugh.
“I’m on it. Full-page ads in the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times.”
I gasp and smack his shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”
He laughs. “Just kidding. Anyway, let me tell them.”
I rest my head on his shoulder as he texts them the news and angles the screen so we can read their responses together.
–Liam: We’re pregnant.
–Finn: Who’s we? You mean Olivia, your poor wife?
–Liam: Yes, WE. Her and me. Us, together.
–Gideon: Right. Like YOU’RE gonna do any of the work.
I giggle.
–Gideon: Regardless, congrats!
–Rhys: Congrats!
–Roarke: Awesome. Just keep this baby away from Czarina or else she’s going to want to turn her into a Mariinsky ballerina.
I tilt my head. “Who came up with that nickname for your grandmother?”
“Rhys.”
I recall the glasses-wearing brother. The oldest one, and quite serious. “Wonder if he has one for me.”
“Probably something like The Perfect Wife for Liam.”
I chortle. “Way too long. Try again.”
He kisses me, his eyes twinkling shamelessly. “He’ll make it into an acronym.”
–Finn: How do you know it’s a girl?
–Roarke: Just a feeling.
