Page 171 of Seizing Control: Part Two

LILY: Ezra will be attempting to latch as well

LILY: You can come over at 8am if you want?

“You were being a pussy,” Nadia tells me. “As their godmother, I took the initiative.”

“You’re insane.

My best friend shrugs. “All the best people are.”

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. I spend time with my brothers. Catch up with Ziva. Feed Ezra and spend time with Asher. The tour of my home is tiring, even though Garrett is passed from person to person, he still cries to come to me. It kills me that I can’t carry him, but I don’t want to do anything that will hamper my recovery time.

When Serena and Indi finally drag their hungover selves to my house after dinner, I am spent. Yawning, I announce, “I need an early night.”

“Go.” Crystal is happily bouncing her grandson, so she shoos me off to bed with a cheery, “Sleep tight, mo ulaidh bheag. I’ll put the monitor on your bedside table before I leave.”

Another decision that was arbitrarily made without my input was the room allocations. In addition to his playroom downstairs, Garrett’s crib has been setup in a smaller room adjoining mine. It’s maddening. I hadn’t decided if it was time for him to have his own room, even though he was outgrowing the space at Slash’s quicker than I had anticipated.

On the surface, it’s not something that I should be angry about.

But I am...

It’s another invalidation.

Another act of disrespect.

I check in with the twins night nurse, then I deliberately stride past the elevator and take the stairs to the second level. When I reach the top, I regret my burst of stubbornness, especially since Slash wasn’t even here to see my rebellion. My stomach is aching. My joints are sore. The shower I take is more of a rinse off than a proper wash. I grab the first t-shirt I find and climb into my new bed alone.

My very, oversized, ridiculously ornate bed.

I knew when I saw it that it had to be a custom design.

It’s much too big to be standard.

The thing that weirded me out the most was the resemblance it has to the one I described in the letter I penned to Venom at my Hen’s night party. It’s a black four-poster with notches at each end that can easily have rope or leather restraints attached to them.

Now that I’m underneath the covers, I am even more positive that it’s handcrafted.

It’s the size of two super-king mattresses put together.

“I’m gonna kill her,” I mutter to myself.

I’ve avoided looking at my phone all day, but I have to if I’m going to get any sleep.

Opening the message app, I ignore the new messages in the group chat with Lazarus and Slash, and type out a terse question to my so-called best friend instead.

LILY: Tell me you didn’t give him the letter?

Her response is almost immediate.

NADIA: I didn’t give him the letter

Heart racing so fast that it’s whooshing in my ears, my thumbs move at lightning speed.

LILY: You did, didn’t you?

LILY: Please...

LILY: I’m dying here!

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