Page 80 of Illicit Temptation

“Come have afternoon tea with us?” she says over her shoulder ambling that way.

“Ohmagod,” Trace mutters, collapsing all three syllables into an adorable groan.

“It’s okay. They seem lovely.” I take out my phone. “I’m going to call one of Jillian’s guards and—”

“No,” he bites out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding.”

“I’m your boss, and I’m telling you take some time to be with your parents.”

“You’re my wife,and I’m telling you to have tea with us,” he says loudly, and his parents stop.

Spinning around, his mum says,“What?”

“Oh, fuck.” Trace covers his mouth.

I go still, their shell-shocked expression has my legs shaking. “Just...just tell them they didn’t hear right.”

His mum creeps back toward us. Looking from me to him, she says, “That’s why you’re here? You flew to Las Vegas to get married and didn’t tell yourmum?”

“Trace!” Patrick scolds his son.

“Stop!” Trace cries out and pulls me close because I’m ready to bolt. “Let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything.”

Oh Christ, my life flashes before my eyes. His mum nods and Patrick continues steering her.

“And make that tea a whiskey,” I murmur.

“Doubles.”

Crammed into a very narrow booth in a café with Trace’s parents, we order teas,forgoing the whiskey. Theding ding dingof nearby slot machines has his mother’s eyes glued to the casino floor.

“What I’m about to tell you, stays right at this table.” Trace uses an authoritative voice that even makes me quiver. “Do you understand? You’d literally be putting my life in danger.”

Patrick looks from me to his son. “Let me guess. You two tipped back a few too many and got married. Now, you’re afraid her brothers will kill you.”

Patrick Quinlan knowsexactlyhow it works with men like my brothers.

Trace exhales. “Aye.”

“Weweredrunk. But it was three and a half years ago,” I breathe out. “We thought we could get an annulment but just learned that’s not possible. Now we have to find a lawyer.”

“You’re not staying married?” his mum asks with sad eyes floating from me to her son.

“No,” I answer.

“Your brother’s a bloody playboy,” she huffs out. “And I thoughtyouwere studying to be a priest.”

I cough into my tea.

“Me?” Trace points to himself comically.

“Now, it’s clear.” Freye Quinlan gasps, holding her chest. “That’s why you’ve not had a girlfriend in all these years. You loveher!”

Trace dumps his head into his hands. “Mum, it’s complicated.”

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