Page 48 of Fallen Dane

I smile against his chest.

This is who we are. We’re both fucked up souls who are made for each other.

We’re not good by any stretch of the imagination. But together, we are pretty goddamn amazing. We’re exactly who we were always meant to be.

And I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing.

Epilogue

DANE

My wife thought it would be nice to plan a pleasant family dinner.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately.” Thorne cuts into his steak. “Even more than usual.”

Pleasant isn’t exactly the word I would use to ever describe my sons. Even though I would die for the fuckers.

Fox refills his wine glass without looking up. “Fuck off.”

“See?” Thorne looks at Tate. “Told you. He’s been like this for days.”

“This isn’t new.” Tate corrects his youngest brother. “Fox is always an asshole.”

I have my hand on Whitney’s thigh under the table. She’s wearing the device I told her to wear tonight. Playing with my wife is far more appealing than whatever bullshit my sons are terrorizing each other with this week.

“Maybe Fox just needs to get laid.” Sloane’s tone is innocent. “Isn’t that what causes bad moods in men? When they aren’t getting any?”

Whitney nearly chokes on her water, then stares across the table at her daughter with wide eyes.

“What?” Sloane shrugs. “I’m just trying to help.”

Fox’s jaw tightens. “Nothing is fucking wrong. And I don’t need help from anyone at this table to get pussy.”

“Funny, I don’t recall the last time I’ve seen you with anyone.” Tate grins. “Don’t be embarrassed, big brother. Thorne and I can give you a few pointers if you need them.”

“You are so fucking dead.” Fox drops his fork and punches Tate in the shoulder. “We’re going out after dinner, brothers. I’ll take two women home just to remind you who the fuck I am.”

Thorne leans closer to Sloane. “Come out with us and watch the show, little sister.”

My sons can be assholes, but I’m pleased with how they have treated Sloane and accepted her as one of the family. I know they would make sure nothing happened to her.

“How are you enjoying school?” I ask Sloane, changing the subject before my sons end up in a brawl. These men sit on our board and oversee the future of our empire, but from the way they act, you’d never guess they wear suits for a living. They’re just as I fucking raised them to be.

“Classes are harder than expected.” Sloane says, buttering a piece of bread.

“That’s because you’re actually trying . . . unlike someone else.” I glare at Thorne.

“What difference does it make if I go to fucking class? You’ve ensured that I will pass. Do you want me to go to class or to complete the assignments you give me? Besides, it’s not like I don’t already have a job.”

Whitney squeezes my hand under the table. She’s grateful that Thorne is always watching over Sloane. As he should. I don’t tolerate failure from my sons.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Tate jumps in. “Thorne knows how to close the deal. Unlike . . .” He nods toward Fox.

Fox sets down his wine glass hard enough that I thought it was going to break.

“Goddamn, you must have it bad.” Tate doesn’t bother to look up from his plate. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?” Fox grips Tate’s collar, and Tate doesn’t even flinch. “Eat the meal that Whitney prepared and mind your own goddamn business.”