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To get out so I can enjoy my time with London.
“Son, are you even…” Mom’s words trail off, and I can only guess why. Twirl is standing beside me, her hand on my shoulder, squeezing, silently asking me to help her figure out what to do, but I won’t. With me, she is fucking free to act as she wishes. To fit her own mold and not the preconceived bullshit someone else pushes on her.
Dad clears his throat then, a small smirk on his lips. “Want to introduce us, son? Cause if you don’t, I can’t be held responsible for your mother’s next action.”
That seems to snap my mother out of her gawking; she turns and smacks him in the arm. “Don’t be an asshole, dear. First impressions matter.”
“Yes, sweets.” He winks at London, and it does the trick as a low giggle escapes her. “Much better. No need to be nervous around us.”
“Sorry. I just wasn’t—”
“We crashed your lazy afternoon. No apologies needed…” she waves her off, and then raises a sharp brow at me “…where are your manners? Name, Malcolm. Introduce us the correct way.”
“This is London Foster.” They know the name and what their greed almost cost the business. “This is new, and we’re taking it slow.”
“Is that so?” Dad’s eyes meet mine, and the softness from a moment ago is now gone. There’s only a reprimand and anger. At what? I have no clue, nor do I care.
“She has nothing to do with her asinine family’s affairs,” I hiss from between clenching teeth, hands in a fist. “Quite the opposite, really.”
“Malcolm!” Mom yells out, eyes wide and bouncing between a now-stiff London and my father. “And really, Anthony? When have you known him to be anything but diligent.”
“I’m sorry my family is an issue for you. They are for me too, and I’m working on moving away as we speak. Fearing for your life isn’t fun, sir.” My girl tries to take a few steps back, but I don’t let her. If anyone leaves, it will be him. “Let go, Malcolm.”
“No.” This is her first lesson. An introduction into my world, and she will rise above it.
Fuck whoever points a finger. Even if it’s someone in my family.
Since her mother died, all she’s done is let others step on her. Manipulate and mistreat; it ends now.
My father has never been a saint and needs to remember that. Just because he’s retired now, it doesn’t mean that the sins of the past are now null and void. Much less would he be okay with anyone pinning those on my mother’s head.
“I’m leaving, okay? This is just another reason why—”
“Stop. Breathe, sweetie.” The words don’t come from me, but my mother who is now standing beside London and giving her a hug. Her green eyes, a few shades lighter than mine, glare at my father until the man shrinks back in his seat. “He’s an old grouch that seems to have forgotten to take his anti-asshole medication this morning. If my son says you’re one of the good ones, then that’s all I need.”
“What did he do now?” Mariah calls out, entering the kitchen with an amused Javier in tow. In his arms are two pastry boxes from a Ukrainian bakery in town. “I swear, lately you’ve been on a roll, old man. First with Dad yesterday, and now London. Tsk, tsk.”
I’m not going to question why everyone’s here, although I know it’s my cousin’s idea. She wants them all to meet. To see me falling for a slip of a girl with more honor and pride than anyone I’ve ever met before.
“Why am I being ganged up on?” Every eye in the room except London’s turn to look at him. His indignation almost makes me laugh. Almost, because if she leaves, father or not, I’ll kick his ass. “I did nothing wrong. Wanting an explanation isn’t a federal crime; I’m on her side here. If I’m looking at anyone with questions, it’s my son. Doesn’t anyone else see the issue here? The bruising and deep scratches?”
“Watch it.” Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward in my seat. “I’ve never hit a woman, much less hurt someone important to me. Don’t criticize what you don’t know when you have no right. You have no moral high ground to stand on.”
“Why else would she be here?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Welcome to the family, London.” Mariah pulls her from my mother’s hold, shaking her head while navigating an in-shock Twirl out of the room. My mother, on the other hand, is glaring at my father and Javi remains quiet. He’s used to our craziness. To the fights and loud voices.
They make it to the entrance before my girl stops abruptly. Watching her turn with fire in her eyes is thrilling. Makes my cock throb at the sight of her anger. “You know nothing about me, and yet you judge. You know your son, and yet don’t trust his decision to have me here or his motives. Malcolm,” she says, a dainty finger pointing straight at him, “has been nothing but kind to me when my own family hurts me. Respectful and even sweet within his own gruff personality. He’s given me hope that I’ll be more than okay.”
“Anything else, Dad?” I sneer while my chest fills with pride at her words, her defensiveness making me feel like a motherfucking king. As much as I don’t like seeing her uncomfortable, anything that awakens her passion—that tiny demon fighting to be set free—is a blessing.
No more hiding. No more fear.
“Yeah. Just one more thing.” Anthony Asher stands from his seat and walks over to her, his gait slow and without aggression. When he reaches her, Mariah moves to step between them, but then moves to the side at the last second. Before London can flee, or I can lay his ass out, he’s hugging her tight. Whispering something in her ear that only she can hear and then nods. When they pull back, she’s smiling. “Hungry?”
“Kind of.” She steps out of his embrace, kisses his cheek, and then walks back to me. No one speaks. No one even questions what he’s doing. Instead, we watch as she takes her rightful place, standing beside me, and entwines our fingers together. Gives them a small squeeze that pulls the tension right from my body. “Can I help with anything?”
