Double Dealing(103)

“You are much more than some rocker chick,” I teased back.

And such our lives went. Of course the guys in the band were disappointed that Jordan was taking a four to six-month hiatus, but by then, most of the big festivals had been over, and except for the standard club stuff, Durres was quiet through the rest of the winter. Leonidas had asked, and Jordan gave her permission for the trio to seek other gigs with him as the lead singer, promising to pick right up when we came back in the spring.

The house in the Rhone Valley had welcomed us back with a comfort that surprised even me. Syeira and Charani, now as inseparable as they'd been when they were little girls, joined us, taking for themselves the second master bedroom that had been Francois's while Jordan and I used my room. They found strength and healing together, and I was sure that no man would ever come back into their lives. They had each other, and they had me. It was all they needed.

Christmas day, we celebrated together in the main living room, exchanging gifts and spending time together. While Jordan may not have been interested in the church, she found her faith in some part again and joined in the singing and celebrations as much as the rest of us. She even joined me in an impromptu duet, as I had secretly been practicing my violin to play for her. It was only fair, after all, and our mothers enjoyed the small Christmas performance.

Later that night, Jordan came into the living room, where Syeira, Charani and I were gathered around the large fireplace. We were sharing mugs of spiced mulled wine, a family tradition that we'd kept for years. “Hey beautiful,” I said, holding up a mug. “Want to join us?”

“I . . . I can't,” Jordan said, her eyes wide and unbelieving. “Uhm, Felix, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, honey.”

Jordan came over and took a seat next to me on the couch, taking my hands. “I have two pieces of news, one very good, the other important but no less good,” she said smiling, making me even more curious. “Which would you like first?”

“The good news first, I guess,” I said, perplexed. “What is it?”

Jordan nodded, grinning. “Congratulations, Felix. You're going to be a father. I had a feeling, but I wanted to confirm it first.”

I stood there, stupefied, before breaking into a huge smile and pulling Jordan in for a hug. “Thank you, my love,” I said, holding her tight. “For the greatest gift ever.”

Jordan returned the hug, then laughed. “You know, with our luck, we're going to have twins.”

“I'm fine with that,” Charani said. “In fact, I think it'd be fun.”

“Well then, that settles it,” I laughed, “but what is the important yet no less good news?”

Jordan smiled again, “we need to think about baby names. I have something in mind if it’s a boy, but we need to cover all the bases.”

“Please don’t tell me Felix Hardy Jr.,” I replied laughing.

“Nicolas.”

All four of us smiled and came together for a group hug. “Nicolas. It’s great and close to Nicolae, a name that's dear to my heart,” Charani said.



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Preview - Razor: A Bad Boy Romance





Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance, coming soon!



Chapter 1

Mason



They call me Razor.

6’2, blonde, green-eyed, 185 pounds of pure muscle with an 8-inch cock—I pull b*tches like a grandmaster angler.

But laying the pipe isn’t all I do.

I’m a hacker — the best there is.

I work the keyboard like a work a woman’s cl*t. Fast and furious.

There’s no code I can’t crack, no problem I can’t hack — that is, until I land myself right in the middle of a murder investigation.

On the run, there’s only one woman that I know I can trust — my stepsister Carly. Tempting as fuck, I’ve had a huge crush on for as long as I can remember, yet I’ve always known she was off limits.

Being around her will only complicate matters, make it harder for me to complete my mission, but I can’t help myself.

With old feelings resurfacing, and a growing need to claim her body as my playground, I’ll have to decide between my freedom or letting her take the edge off of this . . . RAZOR.



* * *



“Fuck yeah!” I growled as I furiously pounded my keyboard. “I’m in!”

“In what?” asked Bianca, the rich socialite I’d just banged the fuck out of the night before. Her red silk negligee open at the front, she stood off to the side of me, slightly bent forward, her gigantic store-bought tits in my face.