Belle: none, if you want a straight, honest answer.
Devon: understood. Consider yourself rid of me as soon as you’re with child.
Belle: WITH CHILD.
Belle: you embarrass my soul.
Belle: I’m waiting at Madame Mayhem.
Devon: I’m pulling over. Do not wear knickers.
I didn’t even bother getting into the shower after landing at Boston Logan International Airport.
I cabbed it straight to Madame Mayhem, relying on my good friends, mint gum and deodorant.
The entire journey from England to America, all I could think about was burying myself inside the voluptuous, hotheaded woman. I was not completely sure where my fascination with Emmabelle stemmed from, but if I were to take a wild guess, I’d say it was because she was genuinely independent. She did not rely on a wealthy man—unlike her sister and friends—and seemed completely unfazed to be the only single person in the room, other than myself, even when things got awkward.
She was outspoken, fierce, and confident.
She was also a stunner.
In the cab on my way to Belle, I wired my mother a handsome amount of money. Just as I was about to tuck the device back to my pocket, a message popped on the screen:
Unknown Number: are you still home? Lou. x
Louisa and I had exchanged phone numbers before she left Whitehall Court Castle after my father’s funeral. Since I didn’t want to repeat my ghosting mistake twice, I added her to my contacts and answered her.
Devon: back in Boston, but I’ll be headed to Britain for the reading of the will. Lunch?
Louisa: and drinks.
Devon: I never say no to those.
Louisa: good. Then I’ll make sure to crack open that Remy Martin cognac.
When I got to Madame Mayhem, I cut the four-hundred-yard line, slapped a few Benjamins on one of the bouncer’s chest and sauntered in, leaving a trail of disgruntled people behind me.
I found Belle manning the bar again, serving beers and flinging her blond hair behind her shoulder. She was clad in a top that looked like crème, ripped bodice, and cherry-red leather pants I was soon going to destroy with my teeth.
Goodbye to my promise of no scandals. It was good while it lasted … a couple days and some change.
Zeroing in on her, I made my way across the club, shouldering past people dancing and drunkenly laughing into each other’s ears.
Belle was so wrapped up in serving her customers, she didn’t even glance my way when she asked. “What can I get for you, honey?”
Honey.
The woman was a national embarrassment. What on earth propelled me to put a baby in her?
“Bend over, on all fours, while wearing nothing but a sultry expression, while begging me to fuck you.”
Her head twisted as shock flashed across her beautiful face. Her glare melted into an amused smile.
“I have twenty more minutes here.” Her hands moved quickly behind the bar. She seemed in no hurry to cater to me, the exact opposite of Louisa.
“No, you don’t. You’ll be waiting for me in your office in no more than ten minutes, buck naked and in the position I want you in.”
“Or?” She snorted, angling the soda gun in my direction threateningly.
“Or…” I grabbed the soda gun from across the bar and shoved it into her cleavage, right between her tits, lowering my voice an octave, my lips hovering over the shell of her ear “…I will see to it that you spend the night with your good friend, Magic Wand.”
“At least the magic wand doesn’t make idle promises,” she whispered back.
I pushed the button and sprayed cold diet coke between her breasts. Bubbles spilled over from her push-up bra. She let out a squeak, pushing me away.
“What do you think you’re doing, asshole?”
“Standing up to you, unlike all the other poor sods you pick as your lovers,” I said dryly.
“Withholding sex from me as punishment is your idea of standing up to me?” She let out a wild laugh, leaning down to grab a cloth and patting her chest dry. “Dude, you’re high. I can get it anytime I want it, anywhere I want it.”
“No arguments there. But it’s not sex you are after, Sweven. It is a child, and I know I’m the only one who’ll do.” I took a step back, glancing at my watch. “I have a conference call with Tokyo. I’ll see you in ten.”
“You’re going to pay for that little stunt,” she warned, slapping the cloth against the bar.
She threw more threats into the air, but I was already gone, accepting the call Joanne connected me to.
The call did not take more than four minutes. While Emmabelle wrapped things up, I wrote an email to my late father’s solicitor, Mr. Tindall, to see when the reading of the will would happen. Worry gnawed at my gut. Mum and Cece were in trouble.