Page 147 of Sin Bin

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Logan poured her a glass and handed it to her with an exaggerated flourish, bowing from the waist.

She smirked at him. “You’re just full of jokes today, aren’t you?”

He blinked innocently. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

She snorted. “Bugger off.”

“Cynara,” Roxanne gently chided.

“What? That sounds way more polite than ‘Go fuck yourself.’”

Logan’s shout of laughter drowned out Roxanne’s shocked exclamations. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed sparring with Cynara. Her little jabs and barbs amused him. They were like kitten scratches that hardly drew blood. No matter how much she resented him, she never crossed the line. The only time she’d ever hit below the belt was after he’d broken her iPod when they were teenagers. In a fit of rage, she’d screamed that she hated him and wished he’d never intruded into her family. Her angry words had cut deep at the time. But other than that, she’d been relatively harmless.

“I have to make some calls.” Sipping her wine, Cynara retreated to the other side of the suite with her phone to her ear.

Logan grinned as he sat down beside Roxanne. “Is it just me, or is her British accent getting thicker?”

Roxanne laughed. “It’s not just you. Her accent is definitely becoming more pronounced. She’s also using more British expressions.”

“I noticed.” Logan snickered. “‘Bugger off’? ‘Heaps of dosh’?”

Roxanne grinned. “I’m noticing it more and more every time we talk. When I picked her up from the airport yesterday, she called me ‘Mum,’ told me she was ‘knackered’ after her long flight and described someone as being ‘cheeky.’ Oh, and let’s not forget ‘bloody.’ I must have heard that word a hundred times before we got home.”

As Logan cracked up laughing, Cynara grumbled irately from across the room, “I’ve been living in England for nearly a decade. Most of my friends and professors are British. Is it any wonder that I’ve picked up the accent and some common phrases?”

Roxanne and Logan shared another look, laughing with their eyes.

Roxanne was the closest thing he’d had to a mother since his biological mother ghosted on him. She’d welcomed him into her home and into her heart with open arms. She’d never treated him differently from her daughter. When she and Santino started having problems, she’d seen the worry in Logan’s eyes and assured him that nothing would ever change her love for him. One year later, she’d filed for divorce.

He remembered creeping out of his room late one night and overhearing an argument between Roxanne and Santino. Roxanne was moving out that week and taking Cynara with her. To Logan’s surprise, she also wanted to take him.

“The poor boy already lost one mother. I can’t let him go through that again.”

“Then don’t leave,” Santino begged. “Stay with us.”

“You know I can’t do that. Don’t ask me to.”

“Then don’t ask me to give up custody of Logan! It’s bad enough you’re taking my daughter—”

“Cynara belongs with me and you know it!”

“And Logan belongs with me!”

“Not necessarily—”

“Ay, Dios mío!” Santino burst out in frustration. “What would you know about raising a thirteen-year-old boy on your own? A white boy, at that! Hell, your family doesn’t even like white people!”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m not asking them to raise him for me!”

“Doesn’t matter! You’re not taking my son around—”

“He’s my son, too!” Roxanne protested. “We both signed the adoption papers, remember? Logan needs a mother in his life—”

“He needs a father just as much!” Santino shouted, pounding his fist on the kitchen counter. “Who’s gonna teach him how to drive? Who’s gonna give him dating advice? Who’s gonna give him the sex talk—”

“Sex talk? As much as that boy has already been through—”

Santino spoke right over her. “Who’s gonna take him to hockey practice and give him pointers on how to improve? Who’s gonna give him pep talks before a game? Who’s gonna teach him how to be a fucking man?”

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