Page 69 of Spike's Perdition
I squirm in my seat. My panties dampen at the thought of fucking Spike instead of packing.
Spike: No response, huh?
Me: Guess we’ll have to see if you’re all talk or a man of action
I drop my cell in my purse, ignoring my pings. Megan’s phone goes off. She picks it up and throws her head back, howling.
“You’re in so much trouble.”
“Not me,” I feign innocence.
“Yes, you,” she teases. “Spike said to tell you that you better limber up, and he found a pair of handcuffs.”
“Kinky.” Eric bobs his brows suggestively. “What kind of sex games do you play, Ivory?”
My cheeks flame. “And on that note, I’m outta here.” I glance around the office, tears gathering in my eyes. “You’ll come to visit?”
Eric embraces me. “Try and stop us.”
“I expect daily updates,” Megan demands. “Spike better call us when you go into labor.”
“He will,” I promise.
“Go get your man!” Megan hollers.
I don’t need to be told twice. Giving a small wave, I head to my car.
My face hurts from smiling so much as I pull into my driveway. I hum Apple’s songSoul of a Saintas I unlock my front door and step over the threshold. I drop my purse on the entry table and turn toward the living room where Spike has already taped up several boxes to get me started.
When my eyes land on the person standing several feet away, my legs lock in place for a brief moment due to shock before pure red-hot anger burns through my body.
“Aubrey!” I gasp. “What the hell are you doing here? And how the fuck did you get into my house?”
CHAPTER 29
SPIKE
“That’s one lucky baby.”
I grin at the saleswoman as she hands me bag after bag of baby items. When I finished up at Sinful Wheels, I decided to stop off at the local baby boutique and spoil my son a bit. Now, I’m running late to meet Ivory at her house, and I’m several thousand dollars poorer.
And so fucking happy I could burst.
Once everything is loaded into the truck, I take my cell out of my cut and hit the speed dial for Ivory. The line rings several times before voicemail picks up.
“Hey, babe,” I begin. “I’m running a little late, but I think you’re gonna like why. I’ll see you soon.”
After hanging up, I decide to send her a text as well just to cover my bases.
Me: Running late. Be there soon
Just as I reach the highway, brake lights fill my field of vision. Traffic is backed up for as far as the eye can see. I grab my cell and pull up my traffic app. According to the latest update, there’san accident about ten miles ahead, so I resign myself to being even later to Ivory’s.
The hour-long trip turns into two hours. I try Ivory again with no luck, and by the time I turn onto her road, I still haven’t received a return call or text from her, but I think nothing of it. She probably has her music turned up while she packs and can’t hear it.
Ivory’s car is parked in her driveway, and I pull up next to it. I don’t bother getting all the bags out of the truck, knowing I’d just have to load them all back up to take to the clubhouse. She’ll see everything soon enough.
Music blares from inside the house, and I chuckle at the fact that I was right about why she didn’t answer or reply. I yank my keys out of my pocket to unlock the front door but find I don’t need them when I turn the knob, and it opens.
