Marrying Mr. Majestic Read Online Lucy Lennox

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, GLBT, M-M Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
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“Go… where?” Bash asked.

“To New York, obviously! To Silas. He’s got to be freaking out. I can’t believe you let him go alone! What if something happens to her? She’s the most important thing in his life.”

One of the rentals came crunching up the drive. Kenji, Zane, and Dev hopped out. I could tell right away from Dev that the news wasn’t good, but it was Kenji who said it out loud.

“She’s been shot. They’re taking her into surgery right now. He should be on the ground in the next hour, and I already have a driver waiting to take him to her.”

I felt helpless. “Kenji, can you get me there? I know it’s a lot to ask…”

The guys exchanged another look, and Bash stepped forward. “He’d want you to stay. The only reason he didn’t call you himself is because he knows how important this event is to you, and he didn’t want you distracted. He’ll understand, Way.”

I clenched my teeth to keep from sobbing. “I don’t care what happens with the exhibition or to Majestic. Not right now. Nothing is more important to me than him. If he loses her…”

Kenji nodded once. “Okay. Then I’ll get you there.”

Dev walked up and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. Even though he was a quiet sort of guy, I’d gotten to know him over the past month and knew he had a huge heart. The man hated seeing anyone in pain. “She’s tough, and he’ll make sure she has the best care possible.”

I believed that to my soul. But who’d be taking care of Silas?

“I have to go,” I repeated in a shaky voice. Dev pulled back and gave me a soft smile, but it was Landry who spoke.

“Don’t worry about anything here. We got this. We’re gonna exhibition the fuck out of this thing.”

Zane pulled a key fob out of his pocket and shot me a wink. “I’ll drive you. I know the way.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

SILAS

I opened the door to the penthouse and stepped inside. Cool air-conditioning slid across my skin, leaving prickles in its wake. I’d gotten used to the open windows and fresh air on the ranch. The warm days and cool nights. Way’s truck windows down and the green scent of recently harvested hay wafting in with the deep blue, never-ending sky visible through the windshield.

My apartment was dark, with only the light of a small lamp in the entry hall glowing a paltry welcome. City lights from the wall of windows in the living room beckoned me toward the view that had sold me on this place several years ago.

I chucked my wallet and dead phone on the entry table before following the lure of the city view into the living room and tossing the bag from the bodega onto the coffee table. Before I reached the windows, I caught a glimpse of a man’s silhouette and stopped short.

“Way?” I breathed, half wondering if I was imagining him there.

He moved toward me quickly and threw himself against me with a tight hug. “How is she? I got here as fast as I could.”

“You… came?” I stood frozen in shock. “Today?”

“Of course I came.” His hands roamed up and down my back, like he wanted to soothe me and assure himself I was whole all at the same time. “Is Camille okay? I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”

I inhaled the travel scent of him. Faded sweat, stale airplane air, and the barest hint of my shave gel left over from early this morning. It seemed like days ago that he’d stood next to me with only a towel around his waist, teasing me for singing show tunes in the shower.

I cleared the emotion from my throat. “She’s okay. Asleep. They kicked me out.”

“Thank fuck.” He pulled back and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were filled with affectionate concern. “How are you? You okay?”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm me, and I wondered what he’d do if I started sobbing right there and then.

“Sure.”

He tilted his head and furrowed his brows for a beat before understanding softened his expression. “Right. Well, I’m not okay. I’m exhausted from worrying. And I’m hungry. Starving, really. You have any food in this place?”

I pointed to the bag on the coffee table. “Snack stuff. We could order something?”

He let out a laugh. “Silas, it’s after midnight. Surely no place is open this late.”

I blinked at him before a laugh bubbled up. As soon as it let loose, several more came after it, one after the other after the other, until I was laughing so hard tears were leaking out of my eyes. “It’s New York, Waylon. They don’t roll up the carpets at sundown here.”

The edge of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t sound right.”

There was enough light from the lamp in the entryway to remind me just how blue his eyes were.



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