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But because Lincoln didn’t let me talk that morning, for a long, long time.
CHAPTER 33
MONROE
Evidently, a non-negotiable in Lincoln’s family was that on Tyler’s birthday, they all ate dinner together. While I would think that was a sweet way to remember him in most families, I was sure it was something akin to torture in theirs, after everything Lincoln had told me about his parents.
“You’re not going with me,” Lincoln said calmly as he buttoned his white dress shirt in front of the mirror, refusing to even look at me.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m not putting you through that. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to take the most beautiful thing in my life and put it in the same room as…them.”
“You would do it for me if the situation was reversed—wouldn’t you?” I snapped, my hands on my hips. I was already dressed. I’d thrown on a dress the moment he’d told me what his plans were, determined to go with him.
He’d made so much progress this morning. He’d actually smiled at points today.
I just knew his parents were going to destroy that.
Lincoln finished getting dressed, not speaking another word to me until he was done, breaking my heart because he looked so fucking amazing in his fitted suit.
He finally turned and stalked towards me, until I was backed up against the wall. His hand went around my neck as his other hand threaded through my hair.
“You will listen to everything I fucking say when we’re there. And when I tell you it’s time to leave, we’re leaving.”
I would nod, but I couldn’t move. I’d never seen him like that, and my heart skipped, a mix of terror and happiness buzzing through me. The terror because I was about to go into the lion’s den, and happiness…because he was letting me take care of him just like he always took care of me.
“I fucking love you,” he growled, kissing me hard as the hand in my hair grabbed one of mine, thrusting it under my dress until I was pressing against my core. His fingers pushed two of my fingers into my sex, thrusting inside me and somehow hitting that perfect spot just right.
He groaned as I came instantly, turned on by his aggression.
I was wide-eyed and feeling a mess as he pulled my fingers out and brought them to his mouth, slowly sucking them clean. His lips met mine again, and I could taste myself on his tongue.
Wow…that was…hot.
“That should keep me sane through dinner,” he muttered. I just blinked.
Because what did you do after something like that?
* * *
My heart pounded like a caged bird as we approached the looming mansion of Lincoln's parents. The sprawling gardens and ornate fountains were like a grand fortress, dwarfing me like the mere speck of dust everyone in this household would think I was.
The door creaked open, and a stern, imposing woman dressed in a dark suit appeared. “Mr. Daniels,” she murmured stiffly, not even bothering to acknowledge me, like I was a ghost drifting beside Lincoln’s side.
Was this Lincoln’s mother? No—she’d called him “Mr. Daniels.” That would just be fucking weird.
“Ms. Talbot, the house manager,” Lincoln muttered, not even bothering to greet her with anything else but a head nod.
I shot him a look because—a house manager—I didn’t even know what that was.
We were led into a formal dining room where a table, longer than my whole old studio apartment, was laid out with crystal glasses and fine china. It was clear this was not the kind of dinner where you put your elbows on the table.
The dress I’d thought made me feel so pretty an hour ago, suddenly felt like it was made of sackcloth.
I took in the sight of Lincoln's parents, both impeccably dressed. Lincoln’s father was wearing a black suit, perfectly tailored to his frame. His hair was styled in a slicked-back fashion that oozed confidence, but also reminded me of how I’d imagine the devil would look right before he ended someone. Meanwhile, his mother was stunning in a dark violet cocktail dress that seemed far too fancy for a dinner in her home. Her hair was intricately styled in an updo that looked like it had taken hours to perfect. They both looked like they belonged on the cover of a high-end fashion magazine.
The hate I felt for them could not be adequately described. I had the urge to throw myself over Lincoln, shield him from their horribleness.
