Page 60 of Last Shot at Love

“Imagine our shock to find you here taking a vacation!” Stefan grabbed the bottle of wine and poured himself a full glass before handing the bottle to my father.

I rolled my eyes, keeping my unruffled exterior in place. “For the record, the acquisition is none of your business. However, everything is finished and simply waiting for a final proofread from the attorneys. We can’t sign until the end of the month, so yes, I took a trip to clear my head and take care of some other matters.”

A surge of anger threatened to break through my stoic facade. Why couldn’t I have a normal family?

A family who showed up to check on me and were happy I’d finally taken a vacation.

No, my family was here to harass me and dig up dirt so they could blackmail me.

“Darling, I leave you for five minutes and you start attracting people to you like sharks to blood.”

Cerulean’s voice spread across my frayed nerves like molasses, and for a beautiful moment, my anxiety eased and I could breathe.

Then I realized my brother and father were eyeing Cerulean with keen interest.

Stefan didn’t bother to hide the evil smirk that spread across his face. “Wow, sis. This wasn’t just a vacation, was it? Looks like the other business you needed to do was a married man. Dad, I wonder what Timothy would think to find out the person handling his entire livelihood is down here fanging a married guy while everyone else is stuck in Boston, working to make sure everything is perfect?”

Cerulean’s laugh was harsh. “Why would this Timothy care? He isn’t married to me.”

I choked on a laugh.

Stefan’s eyes shot daggers at Cerulean. “And how would your wife feel about you banging my sister?”

Cerulean pursed his lips as though seriously thinking it over. “Hmm. I’m not sure. Let me ask her.”

Cer’s hands circled my waist and lifted me onto his lap. I couldn’t help but notice several people at the surrounding tables were darting curious glances our way.

“How do you feel about me keeping you up all night having wild, passionate sex, Wifey?”

I forgot about my brother, my father, and the strangers in the restaurant.

Only Cerulean mattered.

“It feels great,” I murmured, brushing a kiss across his lips.

The jerk of his cock beneath me made it clear how he felt about it.

“Beryl? You’re married?” My father’s voice cracked.

“I think they’re lying so they can cover it up. He’s wearing a ring, but she isn’t,” my brother hissed, a challenge in his eyes.

There was no denying I had more than my fair share of faults—one of which was my inability to back down from a challenge. What could I say? I liked to win.

Turning slightly on Cerulean’s lap, I faced my family with my back to Cerulean’s chest.

“I wear his rings.” Brushing my hair to the side, I presented my neck to my mate. “Show them.”

Cerulean’s breath caught. “Are you sure?” he whispered, no doubt worried I would experience the side-effects again.

I didn’t care if it killed me; I wanted there to be no doubt who I belonged to.

Cerulean didn’t argue. Leaning forward, his mouth pressed to my neck.

There was a sharp pang, and fire slowly spread through my veins. It hurt like hellfire, but my anger burned far hotter.

As his venom spread through blood, his mating marks appeared on my skin as small, royal blue rings.

Gasps sounded around the restaurant. Everyone was openly staring, no longer keeping up the pretense.

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