Coerced Wife (New York Underworld #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New York Underworld Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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“You’re in luck.” Livy beams. “I made a fresh pot. It’s lavender and rosemary.”

“Mm.” Fuck, I need a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Perfectly. The bed is very comfortable.”

I tear my gaze from Anya’s beautiful, glowing face and smile at Livy. “Glad to hear that.” Going over, I kiss the top of Anya’s head. “Merry Christmas, treasure.”

She tilts up her face and gives me a fleeting, uncertain look. “Merry Christmas.”

I sit down next to Anya. “Season’s blessings and all that stuff, Livy.”

Livy pours a cup of tea and pushes it my way. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Picking up the thin porcelain cup, I bring it to my lips. “You made pancakes?”

“Anya did.” Livy motions at the fruit salad in the center of the table. “I just peeled and diced the healthy stuff.”

I raise a brow at Anya. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Pancakes don’t count,” she says, avoiding my gaze as she hooks her hair behind her ear.

“Oh, Anya can cook,” Livy says. “But if I’m to assume that means you do the cooking, Sav, I approve.”

Anya shrugs. “It’s his house and his kitchen.”

Livy frowns.

“Our house and our kitchen,” I say, cupping Anya’s hand where it rests on the counter.

She shoots me another stilted smile and pulls her hand away.

If Livy notices the tension between us, she doesn’t mention it.

I take the envelope from my pocket and put it next to Anya’s place setting.

She fixes her attention on the white envelope with the New York State Department logo, and then her gorgeous eyes grow round.

“Is that…?” She presses her lips together in a nervous reaction and stares at me.

“The results of your driver’s license test,” I say.

I wanted to keep it a surprise for today to make her Christmas a little extra special.

Her hand trembles slightly as she reaches for the envelope. Livy sucks in a breath as Anya pulls out the sheet of paper and unfolds it. She scans the contents quickly and then reads it again.

“Well?” Livy says. “Did you get it or not?”

“I passed,” Anya says with surprise.

As if there was any question about it. She’s a good driver. Like with handling a gun, she’s a natural behind the wheel. My chest swells with a rare and unfamiliar sensation.

“Well done, sweetness.” I lean over and kiss her lips. “Your new car will be delivered in the week. It comes complete with a baby seat.”

Her smile is uncomfortable. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I had to.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t think I’d let such a big event pass without making a little fuss over my fiancée?”

Anya looks away, but Livy is already on her feet and rounding the table while exclaiming, “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

She draws Anya into a hug, forcing me to let her go.

“Thanks.” Anya steals a glance at me. “You guys don’t have to make such a big deal about it. It’s just a license.”

“I’m proud of you,” I say, clinking my cup against her mug.

“We need champagne.” Livy scurries to the fridge. “It’s a good thing Sav stocked up.” She opens the door and buries her head inside. “Oh, there’s sparkling grape juice for Anya.”

I catch Anya’s gaze, but at the heated look I give her, she jumps from her seat and says quickly, “I’ll get the glasses.”

After breakfast, I tackle the preparations for lunch while Anya and Livy take care of the dessert. It’s a simple meal of roast beef, green beans, and baby potatoes followed by red velvet cheesecake.

We spend a convivial time together over lunch in the formal dining room. Anya and Livy made an effort with the table. They dug out a white tablecloth and napkins as well as fine china that came with the house and made a mistletoe, holly, ivy, and pinecone arrangement for the center. I got a company to decorate the house and to put up a big Christmas tree in the lounge. With the December workload, I didn’t have time, and I didn’t want Anya to tire herself or, heaven forbid, climb onto a ladder to hang decorations on the tree, not that she offered. I doubt she wanted to. She still sees this house as my home and her prison.

When we finish lunch, I light a fire in the new ventless gel fireplace in the lounge. We play a few boardgames while drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows, and then we watch a silly romantic Christmas movie with Anya tucked against my side on the sofa and my arm around her shoulders while Livy lounges on a settee with her arms crossed behind her head.

The day doesn’t compare to the glamour of wearing a five thousand-dollar outfit while nibbling on Russian caviar and chucking back French champagne like water at the country club, but the simplicity is nice. I like it. It feels homely. Relaxed. And I don’t relax. Ever. Snuggling with Anya in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn on my lap is a first for me. I can do this more often.



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