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“The three of us can eat together.”
“No, I promised to go shopping with her afterward, then we’ll make dinner together. You and Nate can meet us then. Can you promise not to fire or kill anyone in the meantime?”
He grunts, obviously remembering the ban. “And what do I get in return?”
I go up on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. “Let’s leave that as a surprise.”
His hand shoots for my waist, but I escape before he can trap me, laughing even after I step out the door.
I force myself to stop before I traumatize a poor employee for seeing me laugh for the first time.
Gwen agreed to pick me up from the firm and I have a wild guess that it’s because she wants to see Nate during work hours.
It always makes me smile whenever Kingsley acts butthurt because she didn’t come for him first.
I call her on my way to the parking garage and frown when she doesn’t pick up two times in a row.
So I dial Nate. “Hey, is Gwen with you?”
“No, she didn’t come to see me.”
My phone beeps with an incoming call and I unlock my car. “It’s her. I’ll call you back.”
I hit End and accept her call. “I’m in the parking garage. Where are you?”
There’s a rustle from the other end before a muffled scream comes. I go still, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. “Gwen?”
“Hello there, my red dahlia.”
30
KINGSLEY
Whoever said drugs are the new killing machine didn’t try fucking celibacy.
The thing should be banned from existence.
Or else the cemeteries would be overcrowded in the span of a few days. That’s all I’ve been thinking about since Aspen came up with this fucked-up kink—or lack thereof.
Murder.
Specifically, the part of her that thought this was such an excellent idea.
Incidentally, the little minx was the one who stopped definite murder just now and saved Susan from meeting her maker a bit sooner.
But now that my mind is slowly snapping back into focus, I realize that taking away the bitch’s favorite toy—money—is the best way to make her suffer for what she’s done.
I should’ve suspected she had something to do with it ever since Gwen showed up at our door. Susan had a mild reaction and suggested we put her up for adoption, but didn’t push for that option as I would’ve expected. An option both my father and I refused. She was a Shaw and had to be brought up as one.
The only time my old man and I were actually on the same page.
I flop back behind my desk in a hopeless attempt to focus on work. Problem is, sexual frustration is a fucking bitch with moody issues. Not to mention that my dick hates me and is now crossing days off his calendar with the diligence of a creep until the end of the illegal ban.
That damn witch will regret this once she’s unable to move for days at a time.
I’m not stupid, I know this is some sort of a test.For what?is the real fucking question. It can’t be some new torture device to figure out how long we can keep our hands off each other, because she touched herself last night when she walked in on me jerking off.
Then she ran away because she was well aware she’d be fucked the moment I caught her.
