Page 110 of Oathbreaker

“Wonderful,” Misha replies, smiling wide. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You will leave for Isla Cara tonight,” he says.

“No,” I say, the syllable quick and firm. At Misha’s challenging look, I say, “My fiancée has planned a birthday party for me the day after tomorrow. She would be devastated if I were to miss it. So, I won’t.”

His eyes don’t move from my face for several long seconds. “Very well. Family is everything,” he says. I try to not absorb it as a threat.

“By the end of the week. Three days,” Misha says darkly.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Got it,” Leo says, looking away.

“End of the week. We’ll be ready,” I say as I stamp out my cigar.

Misha raises his glass. “To a long and fruitful partnership,” he says again.

Leo and I raise our glasses, but while Misha takes a sip, Leo and I empty our drinks in one gulp.

TWENTY-THREE

WINTER

“Hand me the milk!” I growl at Hunter, who stares at me with amusement.

I’m in the kitchen, wearing entirely too much flour on my clothes, trying to bake a cake for Hunter’s thirty-fifth birthday.

“Baby, why are you stressing yourself out making this cake? We could just run to the bakery and get a pre-made one.” Hunter leans against the island, carefully avoiding the eggshells near the edge.

Getting a store-bought cake is probably the tastier, more logical solution. For all my gifts, I’m not known for my kitchen skills. I can cook well enough not to starve and be well-nourished, but am I the hostess with the most-ess? Not even close.

“Absolutely not,” I say hotly, scrolling on my messy phone to triple-check the amount of milk I need to pour into this damn chocolate cake.

For some wholly irrational and unknown reason, I decided that not only did Hunter need a homemade cake, but one made from scratch. No Duncan Hines or Betty Crocker cake mix here.

“This is our first thing as a...” Family? Couple? Jesus, what the fuck? “Unit,” I say to Hunter, stirring the cake batter until smooth.

Why are there still lumps?

He chuckles. “A unit, Sunbeam?”

I throw my hands up, heading to the pantry. “I don’t know, Hunter! You tell me what this is.” I rummage around the massive walk-in, looking for...something.

The cocoa powder. I see it on the top shelf, and when I reach for it, I’m startled when the door closes behind me.

Hunter is here.

“You need to relax, baby,” he says with a serious tone.

“This is the first celebration-type thing we’re having with all of us—the first thing we’ve done with August too. And he’s a teenage boy who has just moved in with the dad he’s spent very little time with, and now you’ve brought a girlfriend into the picture. I would expect him to have big feelings about this, H.” The words rush out of me, and when I’m finished, I roll my lips inward to stop more from coming out.

“You’re afraid he won’t like you? August loves you.”

“Yeah, as a person he can talk to. As a therapist and friend. Not as his step—” I cut myself off again when I almost say “stepmom.”

I’m getting way the fuck ahead of myself.

Hunter crowds me against the shelves, my back pressing against them. He tilts my head up, and then, because he gives me what I need even when I don’t know to ask, he kisses me.

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