Chapter 33 Ransome
RANSOME
“What’s it like?” Maverick asks.
I take a sip of whiskey. It’s my first drink of the night and will probably be the most expensive. We are at the Royal, a rooftop lounge above the event room of the Beaumont where the party will later take place.
It’s only a handful of us here, including Maverick and Baron who showed up for “pre-game moral support,” as Mav calls it. Unfortunately, they know my schedule and knew that I was going to a party tonight with both my wife and my assistant, who is also the mother of my unborn child.
“What’s what like?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“You’re going to a party with the woman you married because we live in a modern day Romeo and Juliet where people can still be betrothed if it means everyone plays nice.
And even though you don’t love it, she’s definitely a looker.
But so is the woman you actually want to be with, who happens to be carrying your heir in that tight little body of hers. ”
I set my glass down harder than I should. Several people look in our direction, including the aforementioned wife, who’s smiling at me while her eyes say what kind of scene are you causing now, honey?
“I would pop you in the mouth for the words you just said,” I growl. “But that would mean picking just one thing you said.”
“Or you could deck him once for every stupid thing he just said,” Baron snorts as he sips his drink.
“Unfortunately, I need my hand intact.” I force a tight smirk in Jenica’s direction to get her off my back, all the while picking my glass back up again.
She goes back to her conversation, her fluttery laugh filling the air, her eye lashes batting and every strand of her blonde hair perfectly in place.
If she were my type, I could see what men are ogling over.
Of course, she’s too superficial to be my type.
Too bitchy. Too shallow. Too focused on status and dollar signs.
Too Bratva.
Most men are into all that, though. Most men would give their left nut to be with a woman like Jenica.
But all that said, most men haven’t had Amara.
Haven’t felt her skin against theirs. Haven’t smelled her after she takes a shower or watched her drag her bottom lip through her teeth. Haven’t kissed her. Haven’t tasted her.
And they never fucking will.
I down the rest of my drink, annoyed with my own thoughts and ready to get the night over with.
“I’ll catch you two later,” I say as I stand up and straighten my jacket.
“Have fun,” Baron says.
“And good luck,” Maverick adds. I make a mental note to pop him in his bad shoulder the next time I see him.
I walk over to Jenica and loop my arm around her. In turn, she puts her hand on my chest, laughs about something she and her friends are saying, and then looks up at me with pursed lips. It’s my cue to kiss her, so I play along.
“I think we better make our way to dinner,” I tell her.
She smiles and says goodbye to her friends. We make our way out of the lounge and into the elevator. I press the button for the second floor, where the dinner is taking place in the event room.
The moment the door closes, our smiles drop and I check my phone.
Jenica takes in a breath and lets it out. “Here we go,” she says.
“Don’t sound so excited,” I tell her as I go through my notifications.
“Well, why would I be excited?” she asks. “You’ve made it clear you don’t care if I’m here or not.”
I shove my phone back in my pocket and look up at her. “I stood next to you. I put my arm around you. Hell, I even kissed you. I’ve done everything you asked me to do.”
“But she’s still coming, isn’t she?”
“Who is still coming?”
She just gives me a look.
“Amara is my assistant,” I say. “She works at Apex and this is an Apex party. So yes, she is coming.”
“What are people going to say when they see her pregnant and alone?” she asks.
“The same thing people say at the office when they see her pregnant and alone.”
“Which is?”
“Nothing. Because I am the boss and no one that works at Apex is looking for termination papers.”
The door opens before she can say anything else, thank fuck.
We make our way out. Arm in arm, of course, because show is everything. But so is alcohol, so I make my way straight for the open bar, whether she likes it or not.
I know we’re married. If anyone fucking knows that, it’s me.
And I get that all of this is hard on her, but it’s not like I’m enjoying myself.
If I’m being honest, I kick myself regularly for agreeing to any of this in the first place.
I would have held out and waited until I was thirty if shit hadn’t gone down with Tristan and I wasn’t worried about a war breaking out.
Jenica and I make the rounds before finding our seats. We eat, we drink, I talk business to rich men with dollar signs in their eyes and women on their arms.
Speaking of women, Jenica is laying it on thick.
And I mean thick. She’s laughing and involving herself in conversations she has no business in.
Her hands keep finding mine no matter how hard I try to occupy it elsewhere.
She steals kisses every time she finds an in.
And she keeps referring to me as darling.
At one point, she’s hanging on me, laughing too loudly at something that’s not funny at all, when all of a sudden, she stops. Her smile fades completely, replaced by a half-panicked look of disgust.
That’s when I realize all the heads in the room are turning towards the door.
Naturally, I follow suit.
And when I do, my heart stops.
Amara is making her way in, her eyes bright and wild, her red lips tipped in the smallest of frowns and the rest of her looking drop dead fucking gorgeous.
“You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” Jenica says.
“Who is that?” one of the Silverline reps asks.
“That would be Ransome’s secretary,” Jenica says.
“My assistant,” I correct her, unable to take my eyes off Amara.
“Jenica, dear, are you and that girl wearing the same dress?” the rep’s wife asks.
It would appear they are. Though it looks entirely different on Amara.
She stops in the middle of the room, her eyes finally finding mine, and the smallest hint of a smile plays at the corners of her lips.
But it fades immediately when Jenica turns towards me, linking her arms around my neck and pulling me into a kiss.