My Audi purred when I pressed the ignition button, and as soon as the garage door was open, I drove out onto the street and made my way to the Flatiron District where London lived. I parallel parked across the street and shut off the car. It was barely eight o’clock, so I didn’t expect to see much movement, leaving me free to peruse the information Benson had sent while I waited.
He’d really come through in such a short amount of time. Apparently, London was staying in her parents’ brownstone while she went to school, while they lived in their main residence, upstate in the country. I nodded in satisfaction, knowing it was unlikely I’d have to deal with her parents until after I’d moved London in and she was wearing my ring.
Skimming over the information, I looked for specific items, saving my thorough read-through until tonight when I’d need the distraction anyway. There were pictures from her life starting as an infant up to the present. School, job, and medical records. I studied the latter closely and grinned when I saw that she wasn’t currently on any prescription medications. No birth control.
Benson had also included any electronic receipts that had been sent to her, credit card and bank statements, and copies of her social media posts, including her public and private Pinterest boards.
The grocery store receipts for the past several months helped me make a list of what to stock the house with, and I sent it to my housekeeper as soon as it was several pages long. I’d add to it later, if necessary. There were several purchases that had a pattern, and I scoured them until I was sure. As far as I could tell, London bought items for her period every twenty-eight days, give or take a day. I did some math and smiled so wide I thought it might break my face. Fate was on my side at the moment. London would be ripe and fertile in the next couple of days. My cock swelled at the thought of exploding inside her unprotected womb. I was going to pump her so full of cream she’d be stuffed like a delicious pastry.
Her Pinterest boards only made me even more determined to breed my baby girl. It was clear she loved sewing and design, but what got my attention was that so much of it was filled with baby clothes. While similar things were pinned to her private boards, there were also ones dedicated to wedding planning, baby showers, and decorating a nursery. I was more than happy to let her have the wedding of her dreams, but the real marriage was going to happen as soon as possible. She would be my wife and well on her way to being the mother of our children long before we recited our vows in front of friends and family.
What surprised me the most was information he’d ferreted out about her goals for college and her career. She was undeclared, and most of her schedule for the year consisted of general education credits, and I assumed she was taking Italian to fulfill the foreign language requirement. However, her electives all had something to do with fashion. Particularly classes that involved designing and creating clothes. Somehow, Benson was able to find out that her dream was to design clothes for children and babies. It certainly gave some clarity to her Pinterest boards. There were even a few pictures in the file of adorable little outfits she’d made and sold on a couple of niche shopping sites. She was very talented, and pride swelled in my chest.
Movement across the street drew my eye, and rage raced through my body like a wildfire, leaving simmering violence in its wake.
Chapter 3
Liam
A young, good-looking guy had stepped out of the front door wearing jeans and nothing else. He bent down and picked up the newspaper from the porch and went back inside, shutting the door behind him. There was a familiarity in his demeanor that indicated he stayed at London’s house often.
My hands clenched into fists, the knuckles popping from the strain. I didn’t remember seeing anything in the dossier that indicated she was dating someone. And I would have bet my fortune on the fact she was a virgin. She’d all but confirmed it when I’d had her in my arms. But the evidence in front of me spoke to the contrary. Taking a calming breath, I talked myself into searching through the papers before marching over there and beating the shit out of the little asshole who dared to touch what was mine.
I found the part about her living situation and read it carefully. Finally, I read something that had my body relaxing, though I wasn’t entirely happy with the situation. The kid’s name was Hudson. He was the child of Thatcher and Imogen Kendall, who were close friends of London’s parents, and apparently, she and Hudson—who were the same age—had grown up together. When I read Benson’s explanation that their other roommate was Grace Carrington and she’d been in a relationship with Hudson since they were pre-teens, I reconsidered putting him in an early grave.