Page 3 of His Perfect Little Heirs

I know my place now—beside the most powerful man in the city. His rose. My thorns.

That thought settles all my nerves, and I enter the room with a new wave of enthusiasm.

Everything will be fine.

“Don’t be nervous. Bronson and Luca have Kelly and Stone, so it’s just us,” Shoshanna says as she sets up the machine while Cassidy slides onto the bed. Her eyes are soft and easy, whereas Max is filling the space as he always does, with his broad shoulders and guard-dog-like readiness that is always on.

His eyes are on his wife’s face and not on her stomach or the machines, almost as though he doesn’t want to look yet or… isn’t ready to, maybe? I don’t understand the reluctance in his gaze, but I know he was away for most of Cassidy’s last pregnancy and missed the birth.

Does that affect him today?

Cassidy smiles at me from the high hospital-style bed as she pulls her shirt up and tucks the pink fabric in her bra. “Come up here with me, Fawn. We can both fit.”

“Little one,” Max protests, disapproval in his tone.

“Come on, Menace”—she reaches out her hand and squeezes his forearm— “There is plenty of room for us both. It’s more fun.” She lowers her voice, but I still hear her whisper to him, “It’s still me and you. It’s stillour thing.”

Smiling, I crawl up beside her and we settle in, shoulder to shoulder, as Shoshanna applies the gel and presses the wand to Cassidy’s belly. “Let’s see this little Butcher.”

I pull my shirt up and turn to Clay, who watches me with that smooth confidence he wears so easily.

I grin at him, and he strides to my bedside, casting a shadow on me that further settles my soul. Safety. His ominous, dark shadow is everything I dreamed of as a child growing up in the foster system.

Shoshanna draws me from him as she says, “There is your bub, Cassidy… Max?” She looks over at him, as the quiet in the room suddenly fills with the sound of a heartbeat. His baby’s heart. “There’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

“Hi,” Cassidy coos sweetly.

Lifting Cassidy’s hand, Max holds it to his lips as though it’s his tether, her touch offering enough support for his gaze to finally meet the screen.

It’s clearly a baby—a baby shape. I know why they call it the fetal position now.

Will mine look like that?

A few moments pass as Shoshanna measures the grey and black shapes that wobble around. And I think the look in Max’s stare is enough to break the moon in half with its intensity.

Content, Shoshanna sighs. “The baby is perfect, Max.”

Max can’t talk.

“Oh, Max.” Cassidy sits up and he leans down to take her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder and hair. “I know, Menace. I know.”

Shoshanna continues, “Are you coming back in a few weeks so I can tell you the sex?” She touches her own swelling stomach. “Bronson and I are going to wait. Have you thought about it?”

I know she didn’t ask me, but I answer anyway, my own eagerness getting the better of my patience. “I wanna wait, too. Old school style. Under the moon. In a pool. A doula. Clay pacing beside me.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who paces?”

I laugh because Sir is far too controlled to outwardly portray anxiety like that. “No.”

Cassidy’s soft voice says, “Max?”

He pulls back from her hold, hitting her with a stormy grey gaze bursting with truth. It’s there. Hidden within firmly constructed walls is the most consuming love. “You choose, little one.”

She uses her finger to smooth the ridge between his brows—his permanent scowl of perpetual concern. “We wait.”

“Your turn, Fawn. This will be cold,” she says as she applies the cool gel to my stomach. And now that the attention is on me, butterflies fill my body. I’m worried I might do something wrong, that something might already be wrong, that I’ve failed.

Would he forgive me if I lost another baby?Hisbaby? I couldn’t bear it.

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