Page 36 of The Ruthless and the Strong

“Of course I think so. Nothing makes me happier than to know the two people I love very much have each other.”

“But?”

I let out a sigh. “No buts, kiddo.”

She was quiet for a bit. I cut up the boiled egg for Emma and she happily grabbed onto a small piece with her fingers, making a bit of a mess. I smiled when she put some of it to her mouth, grinning at me as a bit of slobber made its way down her chin. I grinned and wiped it away with her bib.

“You still think Mason should have waited before he made me his,” she said.

I paused with my fork midway to my mouth. I slowly ate a bit before I answered her, gathering some of my thoughts. “Yes.”

“You do realize that had we waited, Emma wouldn’t have been born?”

I didn’t say anything to that. It was the what-if’s that I didn’t want to think about. Everything had worked out in the end, but yes, a part of me wished Mason had waited until Olivia was a bit older. Let her experience life a little bit more.

“I made the first move,” she said.

A small noise escaped from my lips. “You were a kid.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Hardly. I was eighteen.”

“And you went through something pretty traumatic months before.”

She didn’t say anything to that, and I hated to even remind her about what she had experienced with Lorenzo. My fist clenched. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Six, almost seven years had passed since all of this happened.

“Mason got me out of that darkness I was feeling because of Lorenzo. He saved me, Max.”

My shoulders relaxed and I let out a small exhale. I wasn’t even sure why I was bringing this up. It had been years, and as much as I didn’t like the way Mason and Olivia’s relationship started, even I could see how happy they both made each other.

It was all the stress.

Of seeing Lizzie again. Of feeling all these feelings I had long ago buried inside of me when Lizzie said her vows at the altar to another man. But it wasn’t fair that I was taking out my stress on Olivia or ruining our time together.

I patted the hand she had laid on the table and pulled away. “I’m sorry, kiddo. Just ignore me.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I will never ignore you. I mean, who do you think is going to take care of you in your old age?”

I raised an eyebrow at that, and her brown eyes danced with humor. Rolling my eyes, I said, “I’m only fifteen years older than you, brat. I don’t need you to take care of me in my old age.”

She squinted her eyes then, her gaze moving up to the top of my head. “I don’t know. Is that a gray hair I see?”

“If it’s there, it’s because you caused it.”

She giggled at that, but shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m pretty sure it’s your old age.”

I scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. A smile was threatening to pull my lips and I pointed to her plate of food. “Eat. Before it gets cold.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” She mock-saluted me before scooping up a forkful of eggs and putting it in her mouth, chewing and smiling.

She was a brat.

But she was my brat.

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