Page 40 of City of Wind and Lies

She pushes up from the bed, lifting a dubious brow as she takes his hand and gives it a shake. "Likewise." She glances over her shoulder at me and her lips tip up in a smile. "I'll let you guys talk. Call me in the morning?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Thanks for coming."

"Duh, girl. It’s what besties are for." Blowing me a kiss, she starts towards the door, slowing beside Bowie and whispering, "I meant what I said,” before disappearing into the hall.

I shake my head as Bowie takes her place on the bed, lifting the take-out bag. "How ‘bout that date now, Bella?"

A warmth creeps across my skin at him calling me beautiful. It's certainly the last thing I feel right now. "Yeah, I'd like that," I say with a sheepish grin.

He swivels the bed tray and starts arranging an assortment of containers from the black bag between us. "I wasn't sure how you'd be feeling, so I got a variety," he says, pulling the lid off a container of soup and unwrapping a bundle of sliced baguette.

My mouth waters and stomach growls at the savory scent when I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. “You didn't have to do all this."

He pins me with a hard look. "My girl deserves more than a pre-packaged deli sandwich and a pudding cup from the cafeteria."

My girl.

I drop my head, eyes trained on my hands as I pick at the skin around my nails. The tears I thought I'd pushed away are threatening to fall again. It's such a small gesture from Bowie, and maybe it's the stress of the day or hormones already toying with my emotions, but hearing him verbalize his claim on me has me swooning.

Bowie curls his fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face up to meet the unusually soft look in his hazel eyes. The pad of his thumb traces my bottom lip as the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Especially if she's carrying my child."

14

"How old are you?" Wren quirks a brow at me, her baby blues stained with splotches of blood as she tears off another piece of bread and pops it in her mouth.

We've been trading questions between bites of takeout from Savor'd for the last twenty minutes. This isn't what I'd pictured when I thought of her sitting beside me at dinner, with no panties on beneath her dress. I swallow down my last spoonful of minestrone and answer, "Thirty-seven."

She nods her head as she chews, the bruises across her face already turning an angry shade of purple. My fingers twitch at the thought of Allen putting his hands on her. It's taking every last ounce of my self-control to keep the feral rage that prickles beneath my skin from reflecting on my face, but I bet she can probably sense it.

"What about family?" she asks timidly.

"My parents and little sister live out in Northbrook," I reply, replacing the lid on my empty container and putting it back in the bag. "What about you?"

"I don't know them," Wren replies, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. "I was found outside a police station when I was three, in and out of foster homes, then lived in a group home until I went to college and met Drea." She yawns for what has to be the fourth time tonight. "And she became my family," she finishes, her tongue darting out to catch the fresh blood that's blossoming from the split in her lip.

"You should rest, Passerotta," I say softly, clearing the remnants of our dinner.

Humming in response, her lashes flutter against her swollen cheeks as she relaxes back against the pillow and pulls the blanket up over her chest. I swivel the tray to the side and push off the bed to stand, bending at the waist to capture her lips. The metallic taste of blood slides over my tongue as her mouth parts with a mewl and she deepens the kiss.

My dick stirs to life behind my zipper, and as much as it pains me not to sink into her right here and fuck away my aggression, she needs the rest and her body needs the chance to heal.

Leaning back, I hover over her, trailing two knuckles lightly down the curve of her cheek. "You're mine, Wren." My hand coasts slowly over the crest of her tits, her breath catching as my palm comes to rest on her flat stomach. She looks up at me with a hooded gaze as my thumb idly traces circles across the blanket. “And now this, makes us family.”

Her throat bobs with a swallow, face splitting in a sated smile as her eyes slip shut and she whispers, "I like the sound of that," not yet understanding the full weight of what being with me means. But that's a conversation for another day.

I sink down into an uncomfortable navy upholstered chair, bringing my ankle up to rest on my opposite knee. Dragging a hand down my face, I prop my chin on my fist and watch as her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

She looks surprisingly peaceful after the day's events; the exact opposite of how I feel. Allen fucked me over professionally, skimming tens of thousands of dollars over the last six months, and I thought I handled that well within the bounds of the law. But to come after Wren? That's fucking personal. No one touches what's mine.

He probably didn't know what she meant to me- hell, until Dallas called me, I myself didn't even realize it myself. I immediately decided I'd pull Allen's nails from his fingers and cauterize the wounds just to peel the scabs away and do it again to teach him to keep his hands to himself. And that was before I knew she was pregnant.

Cazzo. Guess my old man's getting his wish in spades.

My phone vibrates against my leg and I shift to pull it from my pocket, tilting it to see a text from Rocco on the screen.

Rocco

Here, the nurse won't let me in.

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