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“We can do other, extra stimulating things,” I tease, trying to keep the moment light.

It’s easier than facing my truth and sharing it with the woman I love.

She tilts her head back, and I can see the battle in her gaze. She wants to be mad at me, but can’t be. I know exactly what that feels like. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

I frown, shocked by her demand. “Of course, I’ll never hurt you.”

“Promise me,” she insists. “Say it out loud.”

“I’ll never hurt you. I promise.” I lean in, giving her a quick kiss. “You know I’m only keeping this from you to protect you.”

“Oh please. Spare me.” She pats my chest. “You’re going to have to tell me everything soon. I mean it, Spencer.”

“I will.” I don’t ever want to admit to her what I do. It’s hard for me to admit to myself what I come from.

“Good.” Her smile is wide. “Your punishment is that you have to come to my party, whether you want to or not.”

Like that’s a hardship. “You’re really set on having this party, huh?”

“Absolutely. Just a few friends and relatives, like I said earlier. We’ll have it here on a Saturday afternoon. A little tea party perhaps? All the ladies can wear pink.”

“Whatever you want.” I will indulge this woman’s every whim, just to ensure she’s happy. That she’ll never leave me.

I’ve done things that could make her leave. I will continue to do them too. I can’t stop. Besides…

My father won’t let me.

TWENTY-THREE

SYLVIE

I glideinto the restaurant with my head held high, ignoring the whispers that follow me as I walk past the crowded tables. It’s lunchtime at one of the most popular eateries frequented by those I grew up with. Went to school with. Gossiped with and talked shit about, they’re all here.

Well, not all of them but quite a few.

I spot a girl who I graduated with that’s now a mom. Considering I’m currently on my period and not worried about that particular sans condom moment between Spence and me any longer, it’s perfectly fine for me to feel a tug of longing as I walk past her, noting her abnormally large breasts. I’m guessing they’re full of milk and the longing leaves me, just like that.

The idea of being a mom and having a greedy baby gnawing on my nipple does not appeal. I don’t care if it’s a little boy who looks just like his daddy.

Fuck that.

For now.

I light up the moment I see him sitting at the table, his gaze on his phone, his lips pursed in seeming disgust. I settle into the chair across from him, silent and sneaky, and he barely glances up, doing a double take when he sees it’s me.

“Darling. You’re positively radiant.” Monty smiles, and I smile in return before I reach across the table and take his hand. “You’re getting fucked on the regular, aren’t you?”

I nod, quietly beaming as I squeeze his hand.

“And not by that decrepit old man either. Not that I ever believed you had a normal relationship with him.” He studies me, and I swear I see the cogs turning in his head as he contemplates what he’s going to say next. “I always heard he didn’t like women.”

Again, I say nothing. How can I respond to his very-close-to-the-truth allegation? “It’s kind of difficult to get fucked by the dead.”

Monty laughs. “Please. The dead fuck all of us on a constant basis. I could give a list of things my dead relatives have done to my family that have fucked us for eternity.”

I release my grip on his hand, thinking of past Lancasters and what they’ve done to our family name. “You’re so right.”

“Forget our dead relatives. You need to tell me who your lucky man is. Or is it a woman? You know me, I don’t judge. I’d love it if you joined our team.” Monty sends me a shrewd look.


Tags: Monica Murphy Romance