Page 27 of Coerced Queen

It takes everything I’ve got not to drag my too slow, too dysfunctional body out of the chair and take the stairs two by two to the nursery.It’ll probably take me ten fucking minutes to get there.The pain in my knee is bad today, especially after I overdid it this morning.But I’ll be damned before I let myself be wheeled into my house like an invalid.I’ll walk inside, thank you very much.Right now, I don’t have a choice but to use the wheelchair and the fucking elevator, and that goes against every grain of my being.Just getting out of my chair without dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes is a problem.But it doesn’t really matter because I can’t go to Claire.I don’t want to expose that pure, innocent, perfect little baby to the ugliness of life.There’ll be enough of it later when she grows into an adolescent and discovers the tooth fairy and Father Christmas don’t exist.

Anyway, Anya is already making a beeline for the door, monitor in hand.

A moment later, I’m alone.Once more, the room is quiet.And I find that I don’t like it.I don’t like being in the dark, deaf and blind to what’s happening upstairs.Literally.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I turn the chair to face the desk.The passports catch my gaze.I tilt my head a fraction to the right to focus better on the image.

Anya is right.Who was I kidding?I won’t be able to sit here and know another man has his hands on her.And I can’t send her to the other side of the world and expect her to live like a nun.She’s too passionate and full of life, too beautiful, kind, and generous.

Hiding her and Claire is the right thing to do, the safer thing, but I can’t handle the idea of her with someone else, and I hate what a selfish prick that makes me.

My phone rings.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” Dante says when I pick up.

“We haven’t sat down at the table yet.”

“I just got word from one of my informants that Raphael is stocking up on weapons.I thought you should know.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath.“What kind of weapons?”

“Thatthe guy couldn’t tell me.He’s not in their inner circle of trust.He just saw a truck pull up late at night and crates being carried into a hangar.He caught a glimpse of an automatic rifle when one of the men inspected it.He sneaked back there the following day, but the hangar was already empty.”

“We need to know what we’re up against.I’m not going into a fight blindly.”

“It’s not easy to get an informant that deep into their organization.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Yeah.I’ll do the same.”

For the next hour and the rest of the night after dinner, which, to Livy’s chagrin, I eat at my desk, I bury myself in emails, sending encrypted messages to the smaller organization leaders to get a feel of who’s on my side and who I can count on.I use a roundabout way, putting out feelers to see who’s interested in trading and doing business with me.Then I go through the reports of the guys on my beat to get an idea of the size and influence of the Morellis’ extended territory.Planning is everything.A flawless strategy tips the scales in war, and a good strategy requires that I know my opponent and his resources as well as I know myself and my own arsenals.

Instead of going upstairs, I stretch out on the sofa in my study, which is pushed into a corner to make space for a physiotherapy massage table.I’m too weary, physically incapable of dragging my ass to the bedroom.But if I’m honest, I’ll admit that I’m doing precisely what Anya accused me of.I’m avoiding her.Because I almost took her in the heat of the moment, and if I have her one more time, I’ll never be able to let her go.

Goddamn.

I thought I prepared myself, that I could stomach it, but being so close to her and smelling her summery scent in the house already fucks with my head and my cock.My dick never got the message that the rest of my body is second-grade goods and better off not being on the sexual grid for a while.Or ever.

I mull over that, and the next thing I know, Livy wakes me up with a cup of coffee and tells me the physiotherapist arrived for my next torture session.

ChapterTwelve

Anya

The first thought that hits me when Claire wakes me up at five is that Saverio didn’t come to bed.I wish he’d stop pushing us away.It’s not going to help in dealing with what happened or in moving on.

When Claire is fed, bathed, and dressed, I leave her on a play mat beneath an arch of colorful toys in our room while I rush through my morning routine with the bathroom door open so that I have her in my sight.I dress hurriedly, opting for comfortable slacks, a blouse, and a blazer.Claire is happy to kick her little legs and to stare at the objects dangling within her reach, so I take a little extra time to apply make-up and curl my hair.I want to look pretty for Saverio.

Livy is in the kitchen when I go downstairs with Claire for breakfast.I do a double take.My fairy godmother wears a black T-shirt with aget down and dirtyslogan, a denim skirt, and fishnet stockings with ankle boots.She tied her silver hair in a sleek, high ponytail, and her make-up is darker than usual.Big silver hoops hang from her ears.

I put Claire in her baby carrier and go to the fridge.“What’s with the babe look?”

“Mornin,’” she chirps, removing a tray of delicious-smelling chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

Grinning, I take out the spirulina and coconut water mixture that Livy insists is good for my breastmilk production.“Going somewhere?”

She puts the baking tray on the stovetop.“With you to the office actually.”

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