Page 92 of Stitched Up in You
“Whitley got them all for me. She thought they’d break easily,” Doyle says, shrugging his big shoulders. He pulls his arm back and lets the ball fly.
I catch it again, ignoring the stinging sensation in my palm. I can handle their kind of revenge if it means my mate is able to visit with her best friend, which seems to have cheered her up considerably since we arrived. In their shoes, if they’d tried to kidnap Bernadette or keep her from me, I’d have chained them and turned their bodies into pinatas.
“Will you be moving Bernadette to New York, you think?” he asks.
“Most likely. Unless she prefers to move somewhere else, I suppose,” I answer, throwing the ball back. I can run Talbot from anywhere, and Bernadette has more than enough properties to choose from around the world. We can go wherever she likes.
I glance over to where she sits in a lawn chain under a small beige canopy with Vlad and Aubrey, and I listen to the girls’ laughter while tossing the ball back to Doyle.
“Sounds about right, I can’t find it in me to care where I am as long as Whitley is with me, and Vlad is practically glued to Aubrey’s side. Speaking of which, when do I get my yacht?” he asks.
I turn back to him and realize he’s serious. “I don’t owe you anything,” I tell him, throwing the football harder this time.
He catches it, his gaze turning to yellow as his brows pull together across his forehead. “You shut down the castle for three days. I had to send all the guests away, not to mention I got shot during the fiasco while this one was having temper tantrums trying to chase down his errant mate that you decided to take,” Doyle says, pointing the leather ball at Vlad.
“It does sound like you owe him, Frank,” Bernadette calls out.
“Whose side are you on woman?” I ask her, ignoring how Aubrey erupts into giggles as Bernadette snickers.
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
A grin pulls across my lips as I watch Frank toss the ball at Doyle, the domesticated scene not something I’d ever thought to see. I’m not sure what I expected when coming here, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. I tuck my hair behind my ear and cross my legs under me before relaxing back in the lawn chair, and glance over at Aubrey sitting next to me with Vlad on her other side.
After she showed me a bit of the castle when we got in from the flight, Whitley, Doyle’s new girlfriend and chef, asked if we wanted to picnic so we all met up outside.
It’s definitely a good day for it, I think to myself as I take in the pretty Romanian sky, a light breeze kissing my face as happiness floods me. “I can’t believe you live in a freaking castle,” I tell Aubrey, admiring its high stone walls and how pretty it looks in the morning sun.
“I know, I feel like a princess most days. But look at you, walking the red carpet just last night. I just looked up your Insta and you’ve got more followers than me now,” she replies, looking down at her phone in her lap.
“Don’t remind me,” I groan. My phone’s been going off with people trying to reach me, so much so that I turned it off and tossed it in my bag. Frank says he’ll buy me another that’s more secure, but I’m in no hurry to deal with any of it. I’ve never been one for social media like Aubrey is.
“Snacks anyone?” Whitley says, walking toward the canopy, a plate full of food in her arms.
“You know, I never expected you to be at the gala last night,” I say, grabbing a cookie from Whitley’s plate and smiling my thanks.
“It was your engagement party, what kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn’t try to make it?” Aubrey answers with a shrug of her shoulders.
“She wouldn’t shut up about it. I had Doyle get us a flight out,” Vlad mutters from the other side of her.
“My best friend is a celebrity, life is crazy,” Aubrey says.
“Says the woman dating Dracula,” I deadpan.
“Let’s be real. We’re all living fairytales here,” Whitley says, taking the seat next to me.
I grin at the brown-haired woman. I liked her on sight, and she seems to be perfect for Doyle who can’t seem to keep his eyes off her either. Frank laughs at something Doyle says, and a profound sense of completeness rises within me as I stare at him, like a part of me is finally settling into its rightful place.
“I still say I’m owed a yacht,” Doyle shouts at Frank, a grin on his face as he throws the ball hard.
“How many yachts does Frank have, Bernie? You may need one of them to escape all the women sharpening their pitchforks. Ha. The tabloids are calling you the Crenshaw Heiress and there’s even a petition to get your love story made into a movie,” Aubrey says with a snort as she looks down at her phone again.
“Imagine if they knew I hacked and stole from him first,” I laugh, taking a bite of the cookie.
“Badass,” Whitley says.
“You truly think a bloody boat can make up for all that you did?” Vlad says suddenly, stealing my attention. His gaze blazes to red and a foreboding uncomfortable feeling comes over me.
“Uh oh,” Aubrey utters.
