“We will do.” I tap him on the shoulder harder than necessary so that he takes a couple of steps back. Enough that I can usher my beautiful girl away from the mayhem.
The bar is busy enough that it takes longer than I’d like to get served. While the bartender puts our interval order through along with the champagne I order to our private box, I study our laced fingers. I love the way her small, dainty hands look in mine. But lethal nonetheless.
Fleur wasn’t joking when she asked me to make her a killer. A part of me is still uneasy over it, but she was right. Knowing that she has the ability to take care her of herself brings us both ease.
Besides, she was born for it. She’s as cunning as she is dazzling. As deadly as she is divine. There’s no one in this place that compares to her, not even in the slightest.
“Why is she staring at us like that?” Fleur grits out beneath her breath, looking around me. “Don’t do it, bitch. Don’t d—”
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Laura announces.
Turning to look at her, I wrap my arm around Fleur’s shoulders, pulling her into my side.
“Twice.” My voice is monotone as I step behind my wife and hold her to me, flattening my left hand over her waist so that my wedding band is more than visible.
“I heard.” Laura’s narrowed gaze sweeps down to my hand. A smirk pulls at her lips when she says, “You know, I never had you pegged as the whoopsie kind.”
“Excuse me?” There’s more fire than venom in Fleur’s tone as she steps forward, her hands fisted at her sides. I can barely rein her back in to me.
Laura takes a step back, ogling Fleur from top to bottom. She’s as petty as she is insignificant. However, those types of people have a way of making an impression with their words. Their poison seeps deep, infecting and rotting thoughts like supple flesh.
“Watch your tongue,” I warn her.
“Cute.” Her laugh is acerbic. Taking another step back, she focuses back on Fleur. “You look…ummm…not bad for someone that’s had a baby.”
“Leave.” I find myself looking right down on her. My heart is racing with the need to hurt her like she’s trying to hurt what’s mine. I don’t take kindly to that kind of shit. “Walk away, Laura.”
“Or what?”
“You think I care that you’re a girl?”
Eyes flitting down to my lips, she licks her own.
“I don’t. It’s all fucking angles.” I hunker down so that we’re on a level. “And from this angle, you’re looking a lot like an open target. You’re making it really easy for me.”
I step back, standing beside Fleur. Unsure of what the fuck she’s doing, I watch while she turns to the bar and grabs the glass of champagne the bartender puts down.
There’s something to be said about Fleur’s sudden calm. The expression on her face is void of any emotion even if I can feel anger, hurt, and disdain blazing from her. I feel it, but Laura? She has no clue. In her peroxide Barbie, lollipop head, she honestly believes she’s got the upper hand.
Holding the glass out to Laura, Fleur waits for her to take it, her hand flattening to the bottom of the stem once Laura’s wraps around the glass.
“Our daughter’s name is Grace.” Her hand pushes up with a flick of her fingers. And while the glass tips, the champagne spilling down the front of Laura’s skin-tone dress, she grits out, “Not a whoopsie.”
For a moment Laura looks up at me like I’m going to feel sorry for her. Maybe sympathise with her.
“I don’t care who you are. The insignificant past you have with my husband doesn’t matter. It’s nothing but a blip in history. A gone-by. Do you understand?” Fleur looks up at me with a wide grin. “He’s mine now. Right, big man?”
“Right, Trouble.”
Laura backs away, her hands fussing with the front of her dress. Before she makes her getaway, Fleur pushes past her. Pausing side by side, she looks up, levelling Laura with her gaze.
“You so much as look at my husband again, I’ll bury you. And I don’t mean that figuratively.”
That spark right there is why I would marry Fleur every day of my life if I could. She’s unlike anything or anyone I’ve ever known. And fuck, the squeeze of her hand and bite of her lip as we make our way towards our box has my dick calling to attention as the echo of her words resounds in my thoughts.
My husband. Mine.
Brazen and fiery. God, I want to possess all of it. There’s a primal need burning inside me that thirsts for her. Walking ahead of her, I draw Fleur along with me, doing everything possible to avoid the huddle of our friends and family.