Page 165 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

Seconds later, he walked in—Bianca’s suitcase in hand.

She shot to her feet. “Kam, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, sis.” He dropped the suitcase beside me and walked away.

Her fury swung toward me next. “You used my brother against me.”

I took a step forward, voice calm but firm. “Say your goodbyes.”

She knew from the tone alone that I would carry her out of here kicking and screaming if I had to.

On the flight home, she tried to sit a few rows away.

I wasn’t having it.

I sank into the seat beside her and pulled her chin up with my index finger. “The next time I get you pregnant, you will sit and sulk in our home. You will not ever leave our house again. This was a onetime thing. Not being under the same roof as you isn’t an option, Bianca,” I snarled.

She jerked her head to the side. I caught her chin again, my grip firmer this time. “Do you have any idea how many men I killed while I was in Chicago? All because we were apart?”

Her eyes widened, horrified. Then, just as quickly, they hardened. She scowled.

“You did this to us, Catch,” she spat.

I exhaled slowly, my temper barely in check. “I love you, Bombshell.”

Her expression cracked—just slightly—and tears welled in her eyes. “You can’t just do whatever you want, Catch.”

I ignored her words. After reclining our seats, I pulled her into my arms.

“Next time, Bombshell, when we get into an argument and you feel the urge to flee, I’ll just handcuff you to the bed. I won’t live without you again.”

I claimed her mouth, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

And if you think I went all that time without fucking my wife?

Yeah. Let’s just say she didn’t refuse my dick.

“Catch,” Bianca’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It’s time.”

I stepped into the birthing tub, removed her bikini bottoms, and rubbed her back. “You’re doing great, Bombshell.”

She smiled through the pain.

Minutes later, my wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He weighed eight pounds and five ounces.

The moment she held him, her exhaustion melted into a wide, radiant grin.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Callum III.”

See? I told you she’d come around.

As the nurses tended to Bianca and made her comfortable in our bed, I held our newborn son close to my bare chest.

“Look at his little blond curls,” I said before planting a kiss on his tanned cheek.

I pulled back and could’ve sworn he smiled at me when his gray eyes met mine.

“You look like the perfect mix of me and your mommy. You have my nose and eye color. And your mom’s pouty lips and slanted eyes. You’re wonderful.” I grinned.

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