Page 87 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“You can’t help out with the agency anymore,” I told her. “You have to take care of yourself and the baby.”

Her shoulders squared and she sat up abruptly, agitation written all over her face. “I’m not an invalid.”

“I know. But we both know you can’t be fighting in your condition. It’s not safe for you nor the baby.” I smiled to lighten the blow. “I can’t wait to spoil my niece or nephew.”

She rubbed her hand over her flat belly, then her eyes came to mine. Margaret knew it wasn’t possible. She just didn’t like being told what to do. Her gaze came up to mine.

“You are not going to ask me?” Our eyes locked. I knew what she was asking. She expected me to ask who the father of the baby was. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to tell me. Certain things were personal and baby daddy was certainly personal. Otherwise, she would have told me.

“No,” I answered.

“You don’t want to know?”

I raised my eyebrow. “Do you want to tell?”

A heavy sigh left her lips. “I want to tell you because I feel guilty.”

I shrugged. “Don’t tell me who the father is. Probably better you keep it a secret for now, so Jack doesn’t kill the poor guy.” I knew the same thought crossed her mind. She was not only protecting her baby but also the baby’s father. Besides, maybe I was easing my own conscience too. I slept with Margaret’s fiancé. Although unknowingly. It didn’t do anything to ease the guilt.

“Áine, the truth is,” she started in a small voice, “I don’t know who the father is.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

She pushed both her hands through her thick dark mane. “I went to a masked party I heard about while we were in Vegas. I hooked up with a guy there. He was wearing a mask the entire time.” My mouth parted in shock. It wasn’t what I expected. I thought she was protecting the father. “I have no clue who the father is.”

“Oh.”

Well, fuck! Though I wouldn’t judge her. The baby would be loved by everyone. Margaret’s brothers, myself, my parents. We’d all spoil the baby.

She covered her face in shame and I immediately leaned forward. “Hey,” I murmured, peeling them off.

“I’m so ashamed,” she grumbled.

“Don’t you dare,” I told her. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. Did you hurt anyone? No, you didn’t.” I hugged her. “You’ll be a wonderful mother. And we’ll spoil that baby in the best way possible. Father or no father. You and that babywillbe happy. You have every right to be happy!”

“And you don’t?” she challenged me, sniffling. “You should be marrying for love and happiness too.”

I thought back to Cassio King. Two years ago, I was fascinated with the fact that a man’s touch didn’t send me into a spiraling panic. The moment our eyes connected, he appealed to me. But then when we connected in Vegas and over the last six weeks, I actually felt happy. Hopeful. Connected to him. While the rational part of me told me it was barely a relationship, the irrational one, that usually didn’t make an appearance, told me to be all in.

Just the memory of his lips against my skin sent my heart into overdrive. The panic that I’d grown accustomed to was nowhere to be found when I was around that man. I craved his touch like the air I breathed. Just an innocent brush of his warm lips against my knuckles and I lost sense of place and time. Somehow it felt critical that I keep this feeling. Keep Hunter close to me for that feeling of normalcy.

The long, celibate slumber my body had been in for a long time has finally ended. Thanks to Cassio Hunter King. So I owed it to him to at least hear him out.

“I was thinking,” I said, changing the subject, “... if I marry Cassio, I could take down their empire from the inside.” Her eyes widened and before she could say anything else, I continued, “What better way to get information and stop all the trafficking by them?”

“But you’ll be shackled to him,” she whispered in a low voice. “You’ll have to sleep with him.”

My fingers twisted around my wrist, a dull pain throbbing in it. A memory of my broken wrist with a tattooed hand wrapped around it flashed in my mind, but it disappeared as fast as it came. These scrambled images increased over the last month and were killing me.

I never broke my wrist, I thought back. I never broke any bones. None of the flashbacks of images that kept appearing made sense.

“Áine?” Margaret called out and our eyes met. “Will you be okay sleeping with him?”

More than okay,I thought wryly.

Jesus, I practically had to hold myself back from shoutingYeehaw, sign me up. Guilt hit me almost immediately. She was worrying about me. She knew I didn’t do casual sex. What she didn’t know was that I didn’t do sex at all. Until six week ago in Vegas. With our very own Cassio Hunter King.

“Maggie, I have a confession to make as well,” I muttered softly. I couldn’t keep lying to her while she worried about me. Besides, she made her confession. It made me a coward to keep lying to her.

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