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I sighed silently. Yep, we had some issues to iron out. Namely me not blushing every time she grabbed my arse publicly, or told her girlfriends, with me present, how I’d made her come by the bucketful.
I even lectured her on keeping me out of salacious conversations with her girlfriends.
“But we love talking about sex,” she argued.
I shook my head and laughed.
Although I was in for an interesting ride, I’d become attached and devoted to her. It wasn’t just desire either. I worried about her too. Which, added together, spelled love.
Theadora kissed my cheek, followed by a hug for Savanah. “Congrats.”
I returned an awkward smile. It sounded like we’d announced an engagement.
Bubbling over, Savanah, having consumed a few champagnes, was her happy, sociable self, which I loved despite her unfortunate inability to edit words.
It had been a week since her confrontation with Bram, and we’d gotten past that.
I’d visited Pike again, and since then we’d heard nothing. Much to my relief because I was bursting to take that bastard down. I didn’t like gratuitous violence, but when it came to protecting people I loved, that was another story. Sacrifice came easily to me. It would always be Savanah first.
As I watched her express herself with her hands waving about, her long, lustrous hair free, and in a purple curve-hugging dress, my heart swelled the size of a balloon. I felt like the luckiest man alive.
I just had to remind myself to keep this real between us. That I’d still be that security guard slash Reboot CEO and occasional personal trainer saving to run his own security firm.
As that guy who’d always insisted on buying dinner or drinks for dates and girlfriends, I faced a challenge, given that I didn’t enjoy taking.
Declan stood close. “I heard you saw some underage girls entering Crisp’s private venue.”
“From where I stood, in the dark, mind you, she was trying to run away. Manon whispered into the girl’s ear, and it took some time to coax the girl inside.”
Theadora shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening right under our noses.” Wearing a look of urgency, she turned to her husband. “You’ve got to close it down.
His disturbed frown was understandable given his wife’s experience in a London equivalent of Ma Chérie.
Ethan tinkered with a glass, and welcoming the interruption, I turned in his direction.
“To everyone, thanks for being here on this glorious, sunny day. The family is being summoned, and anyone else who’d like to be in a few happy snaps of our gorgeous little daughter’s day.”
As the photographer positioned everyone, I turned to Savanah. “You should join them. There aren’t enough good-looking people in that photo.”
Savanah laughed. “They’re all genetically blessed, aren’t they? Children included.”
Bertie joined the group, and Theadora raised the dog before her son lunged for the popular pooch, while Ethan’s son picked up the Jack Russell. The poor animal didn’t look too pleased. I sensed he wanted to be left alone to scout for rabbits.
Savanah laughed. “What a great photo.”
I had to agree. Ethan, wearing a loud purple jacket over a pale-green shirt, looking the proud dad—albeit an eccentric one—held their baby. Matching her husband in a wild display of colour, Mirabel reminded me of someone from a ’70s flower-power album, wearing a long green dress with flowers, and her waist-length hair blowing in the wind.
Savanah gestured. “Are you coming?”
“In the photo, you mean?” I frowned.
She nodded. “Don’t be shy.”
“I’m not. But your mother…”
“Don’t worry about Mummy. Compared to all the dickhead boyfriends I’ve had, you’re royalty.” She giggled.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
