Page 23 of Devoured


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She laughs, but it’s forced, and a gust of breeze blows her hair from her shoulders. “When they’re someone else’s kids, I do.”

I nudge her. “I bet you’ll love being an aunt.”

She goes still, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wait, do you know something about Cason and Londyn that I don’t?”

“I hardly think I’d be the first

to know. I just mean, I’m sure they’ll have kids at some point.”

Her big smile wraps around me. “I guess I never thought about being an aunt before.” She blinks up at me. “Do any of your sisters have kids?”

“Yeah, and I’m a shitty uncle.”

Her face twists, a dubious smile. “I doubt that.”

“I try to be a good uncle. I really do. But whenever I visit, it’s like the Spanish Inquisition and children are thrust into my arms. I feel like if I touch one, I’ll get infected.”

Her laugh fills my soul with happiness. “Infected. Like they’re a disease?”

“No, maybe the word is addicted, or hooked.” I shake my head. “What I’m trying to say—”

“What you’re trying to say is having kids is the norm, and people can’t understand those like us who are child-free by choice.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

She laughs and whacks me. “Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you said. But no, I get it, and isn’t that just another thing we have in common?”

I give her a teasing wink. “It’s safe to say we recently discovered quite a few things we have in common,” I say, my cock twitching in remembrance as a sexy pink blush colors her cheeks. Jesus, I want her again. Want to bury my face between her legs and taste her sweetness as I bring her to orgasm. I capture her hand, and without even thinking bring it to my mouth and press a kiss to her fingers. As soon as I do, we find ourselves at the school, the doors swinging open. Peyton turns, and I let our hands drop but continue to hold hers.

“You must be Peyton Harrison,” a gentleman in his late fifties, dressed in a light gray suit, says.

Her smile widens and she takes his outstretched hand. “I am, and you must be Mr. Galea.”

“Please, call me Andrew.”

“It’s so great to finally meet you, Andrew.” She lets go of my hand and waves it toward me, palm up, as she introduces me to the man I can only assume is the principal. “This is my husband, Roman Bianchi.”

Andrew frowns, and I stiffen. I have no idea why I feel like I’m back in grade school getting caught in a lie. Maybe because I am in the middle of a whopper of a lie. But it’s for a greater purpose in an unfair situation, making it justifiable in my mind. Sleeping with Peyton and lying to Cason about it, however, no greater purpose involved there, and not at all justifiable. Then again, I won’t have to lie to his face, because he won’t ask if I’m sleeping with his sister. He trusts me like that. Like Cason, I’m a guy who prides himself on the truth, too. But this is my best friend’s kid sister, and I’d do anything for him. Okay, who the hell am I kidding? This is Peyton, and I’d do anything for her. Even let her seduce me into her bed.

“Roman Bianchi,” the man says, and my breath stalls as my name sticks on his tongue, like he’s trying to figure out where he’d heard it before. Shit, maybe we should have made up a fake last name. “Do you have a sister named Aurora?”

“Actually, yeah, I do,” I say, and reach for Peyton’s hand again when her eyes widen.

“My goodness, I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty,” he says.

I hold my hands up to stop him. “The Bianchis are an old family, but we have no titles to our name. And please, I like to keep a low profile.”

“Yes, I always heard that about you.” His gaze goes from me to Peyton, and he must be remembering my failed engagement.

“We’ve kept things quiet,” I say. “You can imagine why.”

He nods, his blue eyes thoughtful. “Of course. I must tell you, though, your sister and my old college friend Lorenzo Costa are husband and wife.”

Worry cuts like a sharp blade. “You went to college with Lorenzo? What a small world,” I say, hoping to make light of it.

“Small indeed,” he agrees, and my stomach is so damn tight with worry, I give Peyton’s hand another fast squeeze. Shit, this is not good. If word gets out...

“Do you talk with Lorenzo very often?” I ask around the knot in my throat. Christ, I’m here to help Peyton, not screw everything up for her.

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