Page 171 of Making Choices

“Oh, yippee,” my duchess responds with an eye roll. “Just what I needed—a two-for-one special for pricks who broke my heart.”

“Want me to come with you? Can bang heads if you need…”

Cherub shakes her head, then she smiles with appreciation. “It’s a nice thought, but I’m okay. There’s nothing either of them have to say that can change my mind about them.”

With her declaration hanging in the air, my duchess sashays her way through the crowd toward the chapel entrance. Every person she encounters either hugs her like I did, smiles her way, or kisses her cheek, and she stops to give them all her full attention in return. There isn’t a club brother or old lady who didn’t feel her enforced absence, and it’s clear that they’re all as glad to have her back as I am.

Even if our relationship with her remains stilted.

“Close your damn mouth,” Hunter demands. “You’re gettin’ drool on the floor.”

After licking my lips, I do as I’m told, even though the sight of Lilianna Mayberry in her natural habitat is awe-inspiring. She glows. Every movement she makes, every smile she bestows, every hug she doles out makes me lust after her even more. I want to steal her affection for myself. It’s a thought that makes me feel both selfish and indulgent at once.

She could be mine.

She should be mine.

As soon as I allow myself to want her like that, the damn pregnancy test stashed in my bedside drawer taunts me. If Bebe is pregnant, we’re over before we’ve begun. My foolish actions, as much as they were caused by my fight to avoid getting between Cherub and Venom, will be my downfall. I know my duchess. She won’t take my impending fatherhood lightly. She’ll want me to be there for the mother of my child.

Like a father should…

The very thought of sharing a child with Bebe makes me sick.

“There’s no point courtin’ trouble when it’ll find you soon enough,” my little brother informs me. Blinking three times, I redirect my attention to him. He purses his lips. “What do you think Brutus meant by his celebration comment?”

“Dunno, don’t care.”

My flippant reply gets Hunter’s back up, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to take me to task. Our mother pounces on us, and the next hour or so is spent bringing her vision for Isaiah’s post-ceremony dinner and drinks to life. We hang banners. We set up trestle tables. We stock the fridges. We do all the grunt work that would usually be completed by the prospects.

It’s busy work.

Mind numbing work.

It allows me to forget everything weighing me down.

Until Brutus pushes Cherub out of the chapel and all hell breaks loose.

My duchess lands on her knees, then she springs back to her feet with an urgency that makes my eyes widen. Banging on the doors with her fists, she screams, “Dad! Please. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just leave everyone else alone. Please. I’m begging you.”

I’m halfway to her when the doors are pulled open and my president strides out. There’s a look on his face that can only be described as devilish. He’s buoyant. Ecstatic. Filled with malicious intentions and blatant hatred for every one of us.

As Cherub races back into the chapel, I move to follow her.

Brutus grabs my upper arm and halts me.

“They’re broken,” he informs me in an icy tone. “Now it’s your turn.” When I move to shake free of his grip, the unmistakeable sound of a Glock cocking stops me. “Don’t even bother tryin’ anythin’… I’ve got you covered. I’ve got you all covered.”

The synapses of my brain fire.

A dozen calculations circle my mind.

Not once do I land on the outcome that faces me when I spin on my heel.

Bebe Du Bois storms into the main bar.

Dressed in green scrubs.

Red hair like flames around her head.

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