Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“Hello.” Sylvester’s name flashes on the display.
“Brother, I know you probably got the news already. I wish it were me there to deliver it face to face to Isabelle. Sadly, I’ve got a case that’s busting my balls.”
“Watching my woman and her mom celebrate right now. I’ve never seen Amelie happier besides when we saw our baby today. Fuck, that was amazing. A case is kicking your ass, or your secretary is making you sweat?” I prod, trying to get to the truth. He’d do the same to me. Hell, he did not long ago, when I was a miserable shit, brooding and closed off, working more than my usual trying to keep any and all heat away from Amelie while getting things together to bring Four Brothers to New Orleans. It all worked out in the end. Not sure how I managed it, yet I did.
“A bit of both. She’s on some tangent about needing to save the whales and dolphins, wants me to take on philanthropic work. I don’t have the heart to tell her that for every company you take down for illegally killing wildlife, four more appear. Add on the other cases, plus digging around in your parents’ accounts without leaving a trace, and I need a damn vacation.” I chuckle. It’s hard not to. Sylvester Sterling’s dick is all in knots over a woman who’s nearly a foot shorter than him, younger by nearly fifteen years, and the best part about it is, she doesn’t see that Sly is panting for her like a dog in heat.
“From the bill Four Brothers paid this morning, I’d say you can buy a small island, spend a month there, and still have plenty of money.”
“And what would I do with my secretary? Leave her to the fucking sharks in this building? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear your opinion. Congratulations, man, I’m happy for you.” Sly knows his secretary is who he wants; it’s coming to terms with it more than anything.
“I appreciate it. You going to be around this weekend?” I ask. Parker and I spoke earlier today. Papers need to be signed. I want Amelie to meet the rest of my brothers, and a weekend away isn’t a bad idea either.
“Yep. You coming home?” I don’t think of New York as home anymore. The only home I’ll ever need isn’t a place; it’s a person.
“We are. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I’ve got them laid out.” We hang up. There’s another way I’m ready to celebrate, and it’s with Amelie, any way I can have her.
TWENTY-FIVE
Amelie
I’m standing in Boston’s New York brownstone a few days after the news came out. Mom is happier than ever, as she should be, though there’s still a lot left up in the air. Only time will tell what’s going to happen. For now, Dad is behind bars, as is his attorney. The judge was somehow released on bond. Make it make sense. So, when Boston suggested I go along with him on a work trip to New York City, it was hard to say no. Mom practically shoved me out the door. For someone who says she loves me, she sure doesn’t want me around as much anymore. All Boston’s doing, I’m sure. His mission to drive me up the wall and smother me to no end can get annoying even if it’s coming from a good place. Still, I came willingly, wanting to get away from the press. Today is the day. Boston and I are hosting a lunch of sorts, with all of them, and I do mean every last one of his friends who are thicker than any blood could possibly be. Parker and his wife, Nessa. Ezra and Millie; I’m unsure if they’re married or engaged. Don’t judge me. There’s four of them and one of me, well, five if you count Sylvester, who is single yet taken, so says Boston. And Theo, who no one knows whether he’s dating or not. All five of them live within walking distance. A part of me feels bad that Boston has given up a lot of his roots to settle in New Orleans, which has me coming up with a scheme of my own.
My second trimester is treating me amazingly. My energy levels are back, my libido is more insatiable, though I have no idea how that was even possible. I only know that it is, and if Boston doesn’t get his ass downstairs soon, I’ll be meeting them on my own. The game plan is to meet up here, let the guys go over a few things for work, then we’ll walk to a restaurant nearby. The grumble in my stomach is yelling at me to eat a snack. No problem. Now that my morning sickness is out of the way, my appetite is back in full force. I take out the tray with assorted cheeses, crackers, and salami, my favorite these days. Boston did most of it since he had it prepared as well as the fridge stocked before we even walked through the doors.