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I close my eyes and imagine it’s my wedding night and I just had mad, passionate sex with my husband so good we connected in a way a Mafia marriage would never do.
We didn’t just have sex.
We felt something too.
NINE
SHAW
Ileft her this morning like a coward. When I stared down at her body, I was torn between having feelings toward her and the baby so soon and feeling guilty for breaking Lizzie’s heart just last week. The woman I was meant to love but never did. I never should have let our situation drag on for as long as I did.
Yet there was an overwhelming need to spread her parted legs farther and slip between them to fuck away my guilt.
Instead, I tucked my hard cock into my slacks and forced myself to come into work.
My door bursts open with Tate and Owen pushing inside like a pair of school kids. They laugh but then freeze when they see me sitting behind my desk with a solemn expression.
They share a look before looking back at me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tate asks while throwing himself down on the couch. My office is the biggest and has always been where we have our private meetings. I have amazing views over New Jersey, and instead of a boardroom table, like in Tate’s office, I have couches, complete with a basketball hoop, where we throw shitty business documents into the trash.
Owen flops down into the spinning chair he favors. His broad shoulders make his shirt so tight it looks like it’s about to rip.
Tate loosens his tie, kicks off his shoes, and unclips his cufflinks. His hair is a tussled mess, which leads me to believe he either just got fucked or he’s stressed out of his mind. He’s currently grinning at me like an idiot, so I’ll go with the former.
“Why are you in my office if you don’t expect me to be here?” I quip back.
Owen sighs and rolls his eyes. He’s definitely the more straight-to-the-point one out of all of us; he doesn’t have the patience for messing around. Good job he doesn’t work in one of the offices and have to broker deals, because this business bullshit would make the dude’s head explode.
“Your office is more comfortable.” Tate smiles back, somehow wider than before. He points at me. “More importantly. What are you doing here?”
I exhale in annoyance. I came to work hoping to get away from questions, hoping to be alone on a Sunday.
“Working. What the fuck does it look like?”
Owen swivels to face me. “Looks to me like you’re running from your problems. Aren’t you meant to have a honeymoon or something when you get married?”
My heart hammers and regret floods through me.
Shit.
Is that what Emi would have expected? Should I have booked us a honeymoon somewhere?
I shrug. “Nobody said.”
“Did you fuck her? Was your wedding night good at least?” Tate smirks at me, and I want to knock his perfect white teeth down his throat for talking about her like that.
“None of your goddamn business,” I snipe back and glance down at the papers for the Gold fragrance contract I’ve recently been working on.
“You could have at least taken the day off to be with her.” I snap my head up to face Owen, his expression serious.
I open my mouth to respond, but the office door swinging open saves me from arguing, and in strolls Reed and Mase. Fan-fucking-tastic. I pinch my forehead.
“What are you doing here?” Reed asks as he heads toward the small table I use as extra workspace. He’s the only one out of all of us with a stick so far up his ass he cannot unwind. Ever.
He’s always immaculately dressed and so well put together. I swear the guy sleeps in a suit too.
“Aren’t you meant to be on your honeymoon?” Mase smiles while kicking Tate’s feet off the small coffee table.
