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“How can he be good to me if he doesn’t give a damn about what I want?”
“So did Matteo really, and Lino,” she returned. “These men aren’t like normal men. The lives they live mean they take what they want. They wanted us: they took us. It really is that simple to them.”
“And I’m just supposed to be okay with that?” I asked, bewildered.
“He’s going to make you fall in love with him. The way that he fell for you. He won’t stop until he’s imprinted himself on your soul and ruined you for other men. It’s much smoother when you just go with it,” Ivory argued, and I glanced over at Scar where he stood for a moment. He nodded to me, as if agreeing with everything Ivory said.
I dropped my head to the table, banging it on the island while Sadie laughed.
“This isn’t normal,” I whispered.
“Normal is boring, baby girl. Enjoy the ride,” Sadie said.
“Speaking of normal,” Ivory interjected. “How’s Patrick?”
Sadie’s entire frame went still, and she glanced at us before shrugging and continuing on like she didn’t care that a practical stranger would intrude on her private discussion. “I know he’s a nice guy. I know that I should want that.”
“But you don’t?” I asked, sipping at my mimosa until I realized the effing thing was empty.
Again.
Shit.
She sighed dramatically, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m so bored. I swear all he wants to do is stay home and binge watch movies.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Samara asked, glaring at the smallest woman.
“Nothing, if your name is Samara,” Sadie teased, dropping her head into her hands. “Women like me, I think it takes a powerful personality to handle us. Let’s be honest, I’m intense on a good day. I want a man who is all about that, not one who wants me to be quiet so we can watch a movie.”
“Ride or die,” Samara mused thoughtfully, her face shifting into the faintest hint of a smile.
“I have to pee,” I interjected suddenly, sliding off my stool. Though the motion felt graceful, eyes tracked the movement warily as Scar lunged forward and prepared to catch me.
“That wasn’t so hot, huh?” I asked, getting my feet more solidly underneath me.
Ivory laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Not so much, honey,” she murmured.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I stumbled toward the hall. It took me a moment to realize I had no clue where the Hell I was going. “I’m drunk,” I announced. “Where’s the bathroom in the Estate of Torment?”
Ivory reached forward, taking the mostly full mimosa she’d deposited in front of me right before my attempt to stand. She dumped it down the sink, and I watched the liquid disappear sadly. “Good call,” I said as Scar caught me in his grip and guided me down the hall to the bathroom. “Why do they call you Scar?” I said, reaching up a finger to touch his face. “Ryker’s the one with scars on his perfect face.”
“There’s more than one place to have scars, Calla Lily,” Scar murmured back, and even in my drunken haze, my heart clenched at the melancholy to his words. I knew that once I wasn’t drunk, his use of my father’s nickname would resonate with me more.
In my drunken haze, all I felt was the fact that Ryker had bothered to talk about me with his friends. In my loopy state, it seemed sweet. “This is true,” I agreed, stepping into the bathroom to do my business. It took longer than it should have, and I cursed myself for wearing jeans.
By the time I finished and Scar led me back to the kitchen, he practically had to help me back up onto the stool. His face pinched, as if it pained him to put his hands on me. “I know I’m no beauty queen, but am I that gross?” I asked, and he only chuckled at me like I was ridiculous after he got me settled.
“You’re Ryker’s woman. I like my hands attached to my arms, yeah?”
Samara cradled Luna in her arms next to me, and I eyed her like the temptation that she was.
No, I would not allow my biological clock to turn me into a senseless mess. Not even when drunk. When I looked up from Luna’s face, Don met my eyes with a contented smile. “I never could have children of my own,” he announced, and the room went still. I got the distinct impression that he’d never told the girls that, and even through the fog the moment felt important.
Like the air rippled with the significance of whatever he planned to say.
“My wife and I divorced over it, in fact. She wanted kids more than anything, and that it didn’t upset me that we didn’t have them became a daily fight between us.” He paused, looking at me as if he expected me to understand. From the way the others looked at him, I had a feeling they were already grasping whatever I missed.
“You didn’t want kids?” I picked at a raspberry before attempting to pop it into my mouth. It missed, but I pretended like nobody had seen it. Even with Sadie giggling at my side.
