Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“For fuck’s sake,” Charlie doubles down. “The least of the laundry-list of problems here is me talking about your sister having sex with a bodyguard.”
Donnelly jumps in, “We’re not together.” He pries out those words from his core, and pain blooms inside me.
We’re not together.
Why does that feel final? Permanent?
I frown.
Charlie motions to me, as though my dejection is an admittance. I recover quickly and say, “We’re not having sex.” Anymore. It’s a half-truth.
“And I’m a virgin,” Charlie says as though it’s obviously a lie.
Our attraction can’t be that apparent. No one else has really sniffed us out, have they?
Maximoff rests a calming hand on his son’s back. “No one publicly thinks they’re together, Charlie. And Jane will be there.”
Charlie’s jaw tenses. “Where’s the overprotective and self-righteously ragey Maximoff Hale?”
Moffy scrunches his face. “I thought you hated that part of me.”
“I do, but there are times where it’s necessary,” Charlie sneers between his teeth. “Don’t make me fill that role. Please.”
Just now, Farrow walks into the strained living room with raised brows. “What the fuck did I miss?” He stops beside his husband and son and flashes a puzzled expression to Donnelly.
“I asked Luna to come out with me,” Donnelly confesses. “It’s not a date, and no one’s gonna think it is when I’m on-duty. She’s been safe with me, always.”
That’s the truth.
Charlie looks conflicted about the whole ordeal.
Ripley tries to pry the aviators off the top of Farrow’s head. Farrow gives his son the sunglasses, and as adorable as the oversized shades look on the baby, the tension has not vacated the room.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure everyone. “It’s more like an outing with Jane.”
“Just be careful,” Moffy says.
Charlie flings his suit jacket back over his shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what your brother is too afraid to say, Don’t fuck Donnelly.”
“Whoa,” Farrow head-snaps to Charlie and glares.
My pulse accelerates.
Charlie doesn’t stop. “He’s contaminated. Disease-ridden—”
“Charlie,” Farrow warns.
Before Donnelly shifts his gaze away, I catch his anger and his hurt. He loves the Cobalts.
“—you fuck him, you die,” Charlie tells me. “You understand that; I know you do.” Because Charlie has read most of my smut, including the ones with my favorite trope. “Now isn’t the time to fall for him.”
Too late.
“You want to make a point like that again,” Farrow says heatedly to Charlie, “don’t be surprised when you meet an ending you won’t like.”
Charlie opens his stance. “Go ahead. Hit me.”
Farrow speaks into his comms mic instead. “Oliveira, come collect your baggage.”
Now that hurt Charlie. His cheek muscle twitches. Then he gets in Farrow’s face.
My eyes grow.
“Hey, hey!” Moffy sets Ripley on the floor.
“What is it, Daddy?” Ripley asks, unable to see with the sunglasses.
I’m about to scoop up my nephew. But Donnelly is faster than Maximoff to intervene. He’s pulling Farrow several feet back, who’s physically ten-times more built than Charlie’s tall, lean stature.
“What in the ever-loving…” Oscar is here, racing in from the bathroom.
It’s organized chaos. Less unruly than what Eliot incites. Possibly because Farrow, Donnelly, and Oscar are bodyguards, three men with a whole lotta restraint.
Farrow still hasn’t given into Charlie or his own anger, and inside this palpable messiness, I lock eyes with Donnelly, a painful longing burrowing back in my lungs.
Fuck him and die.
I’d rather be living on the other side of this trope.
Fuck him and survive.
Why can’t that be my reality?
9
PAUL DONNELLY
I’m waiting for Luna in the penthouse elevator with Oscar and Charlie. I’m containing gnarled anger I’d usually expel in an insult or shit-talk or at times, a fist to a face.
Lashing out at a Cobalt? Can’t do it, not even if they insulted my pride and joys of Philly. Breathing, though, feels tougher sharing space with Charlie. I’m not gonna be able to keep my mouth shut for much longer.
My Cobalt brethren called me contaminated—like I’m toxic waste. But that’s not even what’s got me hot.
I finally speak. “I know you might not be mindful of babies and whatnot,” I tell Charlie. “But you gotta be when you’re around them, and you should never provoke Farrow or anyone in front of their kids like that.”
Charlie has on dark shades. Can’t see his eyes. “He wasn’t going to hit me.”
“You wanted him to,” Oscar points out.
“No, if I really wanted to be punched, I would’ve gone for Moffy, but I didn’t.”
Oscar is shaking his head repeatedly, unable to look at Charlie right now.
Charlie’s frown deepens.
“You stepped into Farrow’s face,” I tell him. “Don’t think you were asking him for a kiss on the cheek, unless you were.”
Charlie is unamused.
“Just sayin’,” I add.
He drops his head a fraction, then turns to me. “I’ll be more conscious if their son is around. It didn’t cross my mind in that particular moment, honestly.”
I nod, hoping to cool off.
Luna arrives, a small backpack on her shoulder. Slipping into the elevator, she waves but senses the tension and says nothing. Oscar hits the lobby button, and I press 30 so Luna and I can stop at the Rookie Room and get Frog.