Page 218 of The Catalyst

A soft chuckle falls from his lips. “I wasn’t punishing you. I was punishinghim.”

Without another word from him, I leave, not even giving him a goodbye.

* * *

I slip backinto Ollie’s car before kicking off my heels. “He bought it,” I say as the engine roars to life before looking over at my man. The smirk that spreads across his face as he speeds away from the mansion leaves me tingling in all my naughty places. Moving across the cab, I kiss down his neck, moaning in his ear. With a peak down his body, I watch how his cock hardens in his jeans from my words.

“Baby,” he groans as I run my hands all over his torso before moving down to his zipper. “I’m driving, crazy girl.”

“Then, keep driving, Daddy, and I’ll make you feel good.” His arm moves across the back of the seat as I whip his cock out and drop down to its level, taking it right in my mouth and down my throat. I swallowed around the velvet-wrapped steel, and his hips buck toward my mouth before his fingers wind in my hair.

“Fuuuck, baby. Your mouth is so fucking good.”

Always is, Daddy. Always is.

CHAPTER 88

BETH

Mere days after returning to Grove Hill, Nolan summoned me by way of Martin and his new woman, a beautiful Latina named Carmen Muertas.

The pain that vibrated through my chest at meeting her was Nolan’s way of punishing me. I know it. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have sent Martin with my replacement.

Carmen is new to town and new to this country in general. Like what I’ve heard happens with any girl Martin brings home, his family disapproves, but Carmen has thick skin, and they have me in their corner.

Martin gives genuine smiles when Carmen is there, and with him being my only ally in this family, I genuinely want him to find happiness and an escape from all of his misery.

Even if it’s not with me.

I knew this would happen if I released him and I still did it.

He deserves to have a reason to smile.

Martin announces that he’ll be moving out of the family home in a few weeks to get a place with Carmen, and the way I panic should be embarrassing.

I take a small sip of wine before I look at Carmen. “Your dress is really pretty,” I say politely.

She wears a baby blue strapless number with white lace stitching that falls just below her knees. She has curves for days, filling out the dress in a way I doubt my body ever will.

My boobs are bigger from breastfeeding, the milk has barely dried up, and I had to wrap up my tits so it wouldn’t be noticeable. Now, they look the same size they always did before my pregnancy, a 34B, but in reality, they’re a 36C at this point. If it wasn’t for the shapewear I have on under my ruby red dress, the jig would be up via my postpartum body. I still have a bit to go in my exercise regimen before my belly returns to its previous elasticity.

The journey should be doable as long as I’m not getting married in the next two weeks.

“Thanks.” Carmen smiles, but there’s something dark hidden behind her eyes, a past she’s not ready to confront. I don’t push, though. The worst thing Nolan could be exposed to is someone’s vulnerability. I won’t be the one to show him Carmen’s.

I’ve had a picture sitting in my wallet since I returned to town, and I’ve been juggling the idea of giving it to Martin, but I won’t do it in front of Nolan. He doesn’t have the right to know about what Casey sent me. When Casey said she’d keep in touch, I thought that meant calls or texts, but it seems she meant pictures. A picture is worth a thousand words, after all. Her pictures are worth double that.

“How are you feeling?” Nolan asks out of nowhere, his gaze solely on me. My heart races, but I don’t let it show on my face.

The good thing about leaving Rian behind is that it made the grief look accurate for what Nolan is looking for. My son didn’t die, but I’m grieving him in a different way. I don’t have him in my arms, and that’s a tragedy by itself.

“Fine,” I lie, and it’s clear, but he doesn’t force me to change my answer.

Instead, he changes directions as I aimlessly push the vegetables around my plate. “Cora was able to book the church for four weeks from today, and if there’s anything my wife is good at, it’s pulling things together under pressure. Do you think you’ll be mentally prepared by then?”

Since when has Nolan been worried about my mental health? Not when he made that deal with me. Not when he tried to kill my son. Not when he beat Martin within an inch of his life.

Has he grown some twisted sense of conscience, or maybe it's just the permanent expression of loss across my face that makes him uneasy?

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