Virtue (The Morgans of New York #4) Read Online Deborah Bladon

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: The Morgans of New York Series by Deborah Bladon
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
<<<<19101112132131>74
Advertisement


but when I saw her at their wedding in a strapless blue dress, my cock hardened and my pulse raced.

That’s when I heard her real name for the first time. Astrid had called out to her and Eloise had responded with a smile that froze time for a second or two.

I cursed under my breath when I realized she was the younger cousin of Berk’s wife.

I’d branded her off-limits then since she was too close to my inner circle. A circle that I work hard to separate from what I do at Club Skyn behind a mask.

I left shortly after the ceremony, telling Berk that I was needed at the hospital.

I wasn’t.

I needed a strong drink, so I indulged in a few before I fell face first into my bed. I jacked off the following morning in the shower thinking about her and then made a vow to forget her.

I broke that less than a minute later, and have almost every moment since.

I shake all of that off, hopeful that my Sunday dinner plans will give me a temporary reprieve from thinking about Eloise.

I knock on the door to Berk and Astrid’s brownstone on the Upper West Side. I’m here because their daughter, Stevie, offered me an invite an hour ago via the phone she was given a just over a month ago for emergency use only.

Apparently, my presence at this dinner qualifies as life saving.

The door swings open. Stevie is on the other side of it, her phone in her hand. “You took forever to get here.”

I took the subway so I can see how it might feel that way. It did to me.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

She smiles as she always does when I call her that. It started a few months ago when I brought her a bouquet of buttercups. She was having a bad day as most nine-year-olds do when someone breaks their heart.

I offer her a bouquet of them now since I stopped at a bodega that had an ample display of flowers waiting to be bought.

“These are for me?” She gazes up at me with her big blue eyes.

We share that trait, as does her dad, and our late grandfather.

“Just for you.” I brush past her to enter the foyer. “Where are your mom and dad?”

“Kissing in the kitchen.” She laughs. “I’ll put these in water.”

“I’ll help,” I say because Stevie seems to think I have a hidden talent for flower arranging. I don’t.

My phone chimes in the pocket of my suit jacket. I put it on over a gray T-shirt before I left home. Paired with jeans, it’s good enough to pass for semi-professional if I’m called in to the hospital tonight.

“That’s probably doctor stuff.” She points a finger at me. “You better check that out. Someone might have a hurt heart.”

I brush a hand over her head. “They might. I’ll give it a quick look, and join you in a minute.”

She pads toward the kitchen on bare feet. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re here!”

I retrieve my phone and read the text message that just came in. It’s from the answering service at my office, but the patient who called in isn’t in dire need of help. I’ll call them shortly to check in and schedule them in for an appointment this coming week. I could leave it for my office staff tomorrow, but a patient who is fretting for hours isn’t ideal.

Just as I’m pocketing my phone, the doorbell rings.

Since Berk has two siblings who have found their life partners too, I’m used to big Morgan family dinners.

I swing open the door expecting to see my cousin, Keats and his family, or Sinclair and her fiancé, Jameson.

It’s not a Morgan behind the door.

It’s a Rehn.

Eloise, dressed in a red off-the-shoulder sweater and ripped, faded jeans stares up at me. “Oh.”

Oh indeed.

My gaze drops to her lips before I look into her eyes. “Hello, Eloise.”

“Dr. Morgan,” she says my name in a breathy tone. “How are you, sir?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Eloise

The word ‘sir’ just slipped right off my tongue.

I’d call it a Freudian slip but it was more an ‘oh-no-fuck-me’ slip.

Holding my breath I stare at Dr. Morgan waiting for his reaction. If he calls me lamb right now I may just drop to my knees.

Out of weakness, not out of a desire to do what I did to him in that club.

“Is that Eloise?” Stevie Morgan’s voice carries through the narrow foyer. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he affirms with a brisk nod, never tearing his gaze from mine.

“Invite her in,” Stevie suggests from somewhere behind Dr. Morgan.

He’s a tall man with broad shoulders and a trim waist. I should feel claustrophobic given how he’s towering over me, but I think I’m shock.

Why is he even here right now?

After Stevie invited me to dinner, I sent Astrid a text asking who else would be here. I did that with the excuse that I was bringing dessert and needed to know how much cheesecake to buy.



<<<<19101112132131>74

Advertisement