Roman-2(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(56)

“Uh, Luc?”

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now? I can’t wait to see you grow bigger with my son,” he growls, bending down to plant a hard kiss beneath my navel.

I swallow loudly and shake my head, not knowing quite what to say to that. I mean, I know my guy’s a possessive ass and that he’s basically obsessed with my body—score for me—but this is a new level of want I see in him, and I can’t rightly say I’m too displeased with it.

“You are, love. You’re bloody gorgeous.”

I wanna tell you the rest of this sex part, really I do, but it seems the long weeks of going without have done something to my man, because after going down on me for an eternity, he really brings his A game and does some seriously nasty shit to me that I can’t talk about. Unless you sign an NDA.





Chapter Thirty Two




Luc

“Lucian, no! Stop it, Luc!”

Stop it? She wants me to just stand here and not do anything? Is this woman out of her goddamned mind?

“When I’m done with you…!”

I’m so pissed I want to rip into something and keep going till my hands are wrapped around that throat. I want vengeance and blood and every fucking thing I can think of.

“Baby, please! Please just calm down. Pops is gonna take care of it,” she pleads, wrapping her small arms around me and hanging on for dear life.

She’s a smart one, this. She knows that with her and my child hanging onto me I have no choice but to calm down lest I hurt them, something I would rip my own hands off before doing.

But it’s damned close, and every single bastard in this room knows it as I look at that waste of skin and oxygen noisily crying on the sofa.

“You are dead to me. Do you understand me.”

Not a bloody question, but a statement of fact.

The moment Viv had come to me and handed me that folder detailing this woman’s involvement in the stealing of my daughter, I’d been ready to commit an unspeakable act of violence.

If not for the fact that Viv had told Ash before giving me the info, I would already now be throttling the life out of that leech and watching her eyes dim to lifelessness.

What that file had shown was my poor baby being cared for by a crotchety old woman who’d cared less for her than a dog cares for its whelps. She’s that thin because she’d been lucky to be fed by the young woman, Carrie Elms, who’d come in three times a week to clean the old woman’s hovel of a cottage.

According to what Viv had dug up, and what Carrie had said when Viv had finally tracked her down, she’d gone searching through the old lady’s things and eventually found my name and looked me up.

Of course, after seeing my picture she’d been savvy enough to know that the child was mine. Plus she’d heard a few conversations between the old lady and Maddy’s mum—seems the troll hadn’t abandoned the child altogether and still went to see her every fortnight—and surmised that I was a safer bet.

She’d spent all her savings bringing the child to America and then left her to get to me, not wanting to be blamed for what had happened or was going to happen once Maddy reached me.

The long and short is that if not for the actions of one twenty-two-year old woman, who’s poor as a bloody church-mouse, I would have never known my own flesh and blood.

Suffice it to say that I’ve ensured that she is now set up for life, and plan to have her over to visit Mad when everything settles.

For now I have some people to maim and kill, starting with this cyst on humanity’s arse.

“You don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand! That filth sold my daughter to you, and then you threw her at an old woman whose only interest in life is alcohol and living the easy life!” I yell, willing myself to calm down when I see my love flinch and her eyes tear up with fear.

This is a side of me I’d never wanted her to see. The side where I let go of my steely control and ruin everything in my path. I could have still maintained that mask and watched silently as my father ripped her a new one, but that had been before my love had started crying—okay, given that had been from anger—but the end results are still the same.

My love had cried when she’d seen what her daughter had been raised in, and that shit is just not going to fly.

No one makes love cry. No one. And if they do, they’re fucking finished.

“My kid spent the first years of her life being neglected and ignored. I’d like nothing more than to—”

“Lucian. Take your wife and her friends and go have a drink, lad. Let me take care of this,” I hear from the doorway.

“Father—”