Sophie (The Boss #8) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: BDSM, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
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"You know this isn't a boat, right? It's a ship."

"Who are you, the grammar police? Besides, it's the same thing," I argued.

She shook her head, then immediately appeared to regret it. Leaning over the bin again, she began, "A boat can fit on a ship, but a ship can’t fit on a boat. You have a boat in the basement of this one." She punctuated her sentence with another violent heave.

After the doctor returned with the all-clear and a shot to help Molly ride things out, I got her settled in with a cold compress, and the lights turned down low.

"Do you want me to wake you for dinner?" I asked before I left.

She glared at me murderously. "What do you think?"

"Touché." I wouldn't have wanted to hear about food, either.

When I joined Neil and El-Mudad in the great room, Neil stood up. "Is everything all right? Should I call for a helicopter?"

"Everything is fine. She's just seasick. If she gets a fever or something, we'll worry." Lies. I was going to worry, anyway. She was on anti-rejection drugs that could lead to devastating infections. "She called Sasha and let her talk to the doctor, and Sasha agrees with him. Where are the girls?"

"They're all taking naps until dinner," El-Mudad said, spread out on one of the sofas and barely awake, himself.

"Oh...Amal and Molly were supposed to share a room. I hope this doesn't cause problems." This stress-busting family vacation was turning out to be a minefield of more stress.

I'd been right when I'd said we couldn't run from our problems. It never worked. I'd tried it so often. Statistically, I should have pulled it off by now, if it were possible at all.

El-Mudad gestured toward the ceiling. "She's in the lounge at the moment. I'm sure that's as comfortable a place as any for a nap."

"The recliners are divine," Neil mused, pacing a circle.

I dropped down beside El-Mudad's head and ran my fingers through the silky strands of his hair. "Sit, baby. You look exhausted."

"Preoccupied," Neil said with a small smile. "About Rashida."

I tried to keep my response light. "It's been a long time since anyone has called you 'daddy' outside of a sexual scenario."

"Never," Neil said with a grimace. "Never, ever do that."

"How do you feel, though?" El-Mudad asked cautiously. "I was afraid to bring it up."

"How do you think I feel? I’m overjoyed. Elated. I loved being a father. I never thought I would be again. That was by mutual choice," he added, directing it at me. "And I was perfectly comfortable with it. But when Emma... well, I'm glad we have Olivia. But she isn't my daughter. And truthfully, I did have the occasional thought that perhaps I did want a child. I knew that was grief, Sophie. That's why I never brought it up with you directly."

"Cool, I'm glad you didn't." There were a lot of things I would do for my husband. Having a baby was not one of them.

He gave me a sideways glance. "Now, I have the opportunity to be a father again and a child who wants to be my daughter. I've had a charmed life; despite the sorrow we've been through. Rashida is another blessing."

El-Mudad covered his face with his hands and let out a relieved breath.

"You didn't think I would reject her?" Neil asked, alarmed.

"No, not at all." El-Mudad rubbed his eyes before he continued. "I was so terrified that it hurt you when she said it. Opened up your wound. I thought perhaps I would have to have some kind of sticky conversation about how she had done nothing wrong and you still love her, but..."

"Oh, my love, why didn't you bring this up before?" Neil asked, coming to sit on the arm of the couch.

"I was feeling you out." El-Mudad grinned. "It's not nearly as fun as feeling you up, though."

"Can we not get horny on main until after dinner, please?" I gave El-Mudad's hair a light tug of recrimination. "Speaking of dinner, Molly will not be at it with us. So maybe it's time to seize this opportunity? For the big talk with your daughters?"

"We should have dinner, send Olivia off to bed, and discuss it over dessert," Neil decided for us. There was no other way to interpret his tone. "And no matter how it turns out, we won't let it spoil our vacation."

"Even if Amal jumps ship in Havana and starts a new life without us?" It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. I was living proof that teenagers made rash international decisions all the time.

"I think you should give Amal more credit." Neil kissed the top of my head. "She's prickly. She reminds me of Emma."

He rose and walked to the other end of the couch to sit beside El-Mudad's feet. "I remember the fear that Emma wouldn't like Elizabeth. I wanted them to meet before I proposed. But I was too impulsive and put myself in a damned awkward situation. Emma reacted much in the way Amal has, resolute that she would not get close to her father's new partner. We had an enormous row, and I will never forget what she threatened me with: 'I refuse to let your choices change my heart!'"



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