Page 230 of Deceit

I smile against her skin and slide my hand underneath her dress. “Take it down a notch. You’ll make him cry and act petty. We need him to play nice.”

He needs to believe that she’s basic and might forgive him because if he doesn’t, he might make a move on the kids. I think Alexander will be patient if Emmy shows a hint that there is hope for him.

“Emmy, I know you’re still pissed but I’m hoping that you’ll see in the will that I’m serious about this. About us. That I want to take care of our kids. I want to take care of you. I love you.”

I can’t see Emmy’s face but I can only imagine the scowl on it.

Reluctantly, I pull away but allow my hand to inch up between her legs to find my wife is currently fuming.

Her face is pink, her jaw is locked tight. She glowers at me but notatme but because I’m the only thing in front of her.

I love you, I mouth as I delve forward to flatten a kiss to her lips.

He won’t stress her out when she’s with me.

She and I will get through this together.

“One tomorrow,” Emmy states, staring at me with an unreadable expression on her face. “We’ll talk.”

“Should I send a car for you?” My wife narrows her eyes, completely exasperated over his extra ass.

“No, thank you,” she conveys. “See you then.”

Emmy quickly ends the call before the dumbass can make more of an idiot out of himself and places the phone on the countertop. Her brown eyes still wander around my face as though she’s confused and I chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you hear what you said?” Her brows knit and I move her panties to the side.

“About what?”

I know what the hell I said. I just want her to repeat it so there’s no confusion between us. Alexander may have spermed those two kids but Atlas and Alaric are mine now. I held them—that was it.

“You saidourkids.”

“That’s another thing,” I breathe, brushing the pad of my thumb over her clit. Her next exhale quivers as she loosens her posture. “I’m gonna want you to take my last name.”

“But—“

“Yeah, twenty-first century and all that shit but you’re gonna need to match the babies because when I adopt them, they’ll be Bishop’s.”

“Bishops? But you—“

“Which one is older?”

Emmy still gapes at me. “Atlas.” I hold her gaze and watch her swallow, suddenly becoming nervous. “Are you upset that I...named my son after you when…”

When they’re not mine.

I shake my head but she doesn’t relax. Bowing forward, I press my forehead to hers and breathe in her peachy scent.

“I’m sorry, Bish.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for—”

“Don’t give me so much credit. I almost killed your fake baby daddy. I wanna be your real one, Emmy.”

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