Page 68 of Claiming His Bunny
Mrs. Simpson’s cheek twitches. Once. “Fine,” she snaps at Georgia. “Take the damn child. Have it grown up to be a worthless nobody like you. We had such great plans for you, Georgia! You’re such a disappointment. You took a purity oath, for crying out loud! Did you screw around while wearing the ring?”
“That’s enough,” I growl, unable to hold back any longer. “Go get Arya. Now.”
Some of my darkness must be slipping through the cracks in my facade, because Georgia’s mother pales, her eyes widening in fear. “Mr. Bennett? W-what are you doing here?” she asks, as if she only now realized who I was.
“I’m a PI, Mrs. Simpson,” I reply icily. “I specialize in kidnapped childrens’ cases. I have a great record of solving them, too,” I add, letting more of my inner rage show.
“But this isn’t a kidnapping.” She flutters her eyelashes, forcing her mouth into what was probably supposed to be a seductive smile, but ends up more like a pained grimace. “We were just taking care of our family. I’m sure an honorable man like you understands that.” She shifts, straightening her back so that her breasts jut out.
Is she trying to flirt with me? Un-fucking-believable. “I understand you kicked your pregnant teenage daughter out. If that is your idea of taking care of your family, you shouldn’t own a dog, let alone care for an infant. Get the baby. Now,” I order, my voice so dark it brokers no argument. “You two go with her,” I nod at Kayla and Georgia. “Daddy and I will have a little chat.”
Bartholomew Simpson sputters an undignified response but deflates under my glare. “Just take the child and go,” he mumbles. “I’m done with this. Told Lottie it wasn’t worth the trouble.”
“You’re not done with your granddaughter,” I correct him as I step into his personal space to intimidate him further. “In fact, you love her so much that tomorrow, you’ll set up a trust fund in her name and start sending money there every month. A thousand dollars should be a good start.”
“Are you insane?!”
I ignore his outraged blathering and continue speaking over him. “Of course, that is in addition to the money you’ll be sending to Georgia monthly. Another thousand dollars, at least. For someone who commits tax frauds on a grand scale, two thousand dollars a month shouldn’t be a big deal. Right?”
Simpson gawks at me, his face losing all of its color. “I don’t… How did you… That’s not—”
“Not true?” I cock my brow, flashing him a smirk. “I’m sure the IRS will be happy to go over all your tax reports in the past, I don’t know, twenty years?”
Simpson’s knees tremble. When it looks like he’s about to collapse, I grab his arms and hold him against the wall. It’s a good thing I have no blades on me because I want nothing more than to pin him to the wall with a knife through his shoulder.
“Remember, Barty,” I say, not bothering to mask how unhinged I am anymore. “Two thousand dollars. At least. I’ll be watching.”
When I hear footsteps from the inside, I let go of Simpson and wipe my hands on my pants, feeling dirty just from touching him. His knees sag, but he manages to stay upright, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
Georgia appears, cradling a baby in her arms, smiling through her tears. Kayla follows with a baby car seat in one hand, a large diaper bag slung over her shoulder, and a box under her other arm. After glaring at Georgia’s father one last time, I take the car seat and the box of what appears to be brand-new baby clothes from Kayla’s hands and carry them over to the car.
I put everything on the back seat, then squint at the tiny image on the side of the car seat. How in the world does a person attach it to their car? Which way is it even supposed to go?
Georgia shakes her head. “Just drive, please. We can deal with the car seat later. I just… I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” I mumble as I get into the driver’s seat. “This place is toxic as fuck.”
She giggles at my exaggerated words, and I grin back at her through the rearview mirror as I back out of the Simpson’s driveway. “What?” I tease. “Is that not what kids these days are saying anymore?”
Kayla smacks my thigh. “Please, you’re not that old to be using the ‘kids these days.’ Or…are you?”
I’m once again reminded that while I know almost everything there is to know about her, she knows very little about me. I make a vow to myself to fix it as soon as possible. “I’m thirty-four,” I admit. Six years older than her. I hope she doesn’t think it’s too much. “But I don’t think it’s ever too early to use that phrase. Back in my day—”
“Oh, my god.” Kayla laughs heartily. “Just shut up and drive, Ethan.”
I love her laugh. I could listen to it all day. That, and her moans, of course. Those I love even more. I should probably let her rest when we get back home, but in the morning… My cock twitches as I imagine all the things we’re going to do in the morning. Hopefully, I’ll get to hear more of both her laugh and her moans.
Chapter 38
Kayla
I love Ethan Bennett.I also really hate Ethan Bennett.
“Let me sleep,” I growl, shoving at him. He doesn’t move an inch, his body still plastered over mine.
“Wake up, bunny.” He nips at my neck.
I make another unsuccessful attempt at pushing him away. “Why?” I whine. “It’s early.”
