Page 29 of Owned By her Enemy
But whatever my little songbird wants, she gets, so I arranged it.
“Father.” She smiles easily, but I notice she doesn’t touch him when he rises to greet her. He’s not her father, and I wonder if she’s going to confront him on that.
“Charlotte.” He looks her up and down. “You’ve put on weight.”
“He feeds me well.” She hides her smirk as she sits gracefully into the chair opposite her father.
“I love to eat,” I comment dryly, seating myself next to my wife.
“Well.” Her father snatches up the wine menu and studies it pompously. “Make sure you don’t get fat. I won’t have you back at Tottenham now you’re—”
“Watch your mouth,” I snarl, anger rumbling in my chest. “You don’t speak tomy wifelike that.”
“It’s alright, zolotse.” Lotte puts her hand on my knee as she calls megolden one. She quizzed me a week ago about my name for her, and made me repeat every endearment I could think of until she found something she liked, and has called me that since. I’ve told her she doesn’t need to learn Russian, but that she’s making the effort touches my heart.
The waiter is a little more confident than last time we were here. Hopeful that this was the location for the brokering of a peace deal, and reassured that the worst of the risk of blood on the carpet is over.
We order food, and Tottenham requests an outrageously expensive bottle of red wine. Touché. Should have known he’d do that after my little display of wealth over the wedding.
The drinks arrive, and I taste the wine before it’s poured for Tottenham and Lotte.
Lotte takes a tiny sip and screws up her face. “Is this corked?”
“No.” I’m confused, because Lotte hasn’t been drinking recently, and the wine is perfect, if ostentatious.
Tottenham hesitates for a split second, looking at his glass.
“Let me try yours,” Lotte says to her father. “Maybe there is something in my glass.” She snatches up her father’s glass and takes a tiny bit, her face relaxing. “Oh, that’s fine.”
He grumbles and accepts it back, and as he does, her hand moves oddly.
I attempt to catch her eye, but she steadfastly avoids me. And I wonder…
The starters arrive, and since Lotte didn’t tell me not to, I eat oysters with all the echoes of satisfaction from when we first met, and last night when I ate her pussy until she screamed. Got to take what enjoyment I can from this meal.
Lotte daintily eats her salad and pretends not to notice. But I see her cheeks pinkening.
“What did you want to discuss?” Tottenham says around a substantial gulp of wine.
“I have news.” She glances over at me, then to her father, eyes bright. “I’m pregnant.”
Oh my god. My heart. I’m drowning with pride and happiness.
Pregnant. My wife is pregnant. I’m going to be father to Lotte’s child.
Sure, we’ve been having so much sex it’s not a surprise. I’ve been telling her over and over how I want to breed her. But still, I’m overwhelmed by love for Lotte and the life growing inside her.
A mildly scathing expression crosses Tottenham’s face. “Congratulations on your brat.”
I growl, but Lotte reaches under the table and pinches my thigh in warning.
“I’m so glad you’re pleased you’ll be a grandfather.” The emphasis makes it sound like she means,so old you’re over the hill and past it. “And this child started me thinking. They’re the future of Tottenham. We should ensure the Tottenham name continues with your Tottenham genetics.”
She pulls documents out of her handbag. It was one of the first things she bought when we arrived back in London, and she was enjoying her new life. “This will leave Tottenham to your grandson, when you’re gone.”
“A new will?” Tottenham gives the papers a dismissive glance.
“Don’t you want to ensure your name endures?” Lotte replies. “Everything you’ve achieved, all the work you put in. It would be a pity for all that to be wasted because you didn’t pass it on.”
