I wake snuggled tight in Jace’s arms. It’s much nicer than sleeping on the pillow fort Hunter made for us last night. As much as I loved them as kids, a bed is always softer on the body.
I’m surprised the others didn’t come looking for us, but I guess they’re giving us some time alone, which I’m very grateful for. Last night was hot, like crazy-sexy-I-want-Asher-and-Hunter-to-kiss-again-while-I-watch hot.
I stretch, and my body aches in all the best ways. Jace hugs me tighter and I smile.
“Good morning beautiful.” He kisses my forehead.
I groan, not wanting to get up, but my tummy rumbles, and I know I need to eat something soon. “How’s your dick?”
His chest rumbles as he chuckles. “I think he’s all better now.”
I run my hand down his chest and under the sheets and find him hard. I wrap my fingers around his cock and give him a playful squeeze. “I think he’s happy to see me.”
He cocks a brow at me, and I smirk, stroking him.
“Mmm . . .”
The next thing I know, my hand is being snatched away as he rolls on top of me. I’m on my back, and he’s nestled between my legs. We’re both naked from the bath, and I can feel his hard cock between my legs.
He kisses my nose, and my tummy rumbles, I groan. Ugh . . . like, give me a few minutes here, tummy. I will feed you after.
He pulls back and looks down into my eyes. “I can think of many different things I want to do with you right now, but the only thing I’m going to do is feed you.” He grinds his erection into me, and I grip his ass cheeks to keep him close, little sparks waking up my body. I can eat after, right? My tummy rumbles again. Fuck.
“Your cock?” I tease.
He gives me a wicked grin, and as much as I want to play around, I really do need to pee and eat. And brush my hair; it’s a mess after the bath.
“Let’s get you up, dressed, and fed. I bet Hunter has something going out there. I swear I saw bacon in the fridge yesterday, so I hope he’s cooking that up.”
Oh man, bacon, eggs . . . pancakes? Yes. I scramble out of the bed, my feet getting tangled in the sheet as I look around the room for clothes. I want breakfast.
Jace laughs. “Yeah, you only had a blanket, remember? Where’s your bag of clothes?”
I stop looking for clothes and realize I left it in the car. I roll my eyes. “In the car. Can I borrow your shirt?”
Jace gets out of bed and stands there like a Greek god—one with a really nice cock. He sees me looking at him, naked like this. Now that he’s mine, I can’t help myself. I go to him and run my hand down his chest. Fuck, he feels good.
“I left my shirt out there, Mila.”
Huh. Well, it’s not like they haven’t all seen me naked. I shrug and turn to the door. Jace calls out for me to wait, but I don’t as I stroll out to the living room in hunt of clothes.
I pass the kitchen and smell the yummy scents coming from there. Roman’s in there, cooking, Hunter is setting the table, and Asher is pouring orange juice into glasses. They all stop and look at me as I walk past, naked.
Hunter wolf whistles at me, and I giggle.
“Fuck, Mila. Come take a seat.” Asher waves over, and I shake my head.
“I need to wear something. Just gonna grab my clothes from last night.”
Roman calls out, “Mila,” and I freeze. I watch as he approaches me, his hand going to the hem of his “Property of Mila” tee and, in one swift move, it’s over his head, and his sexy body and tattoos are all on display.
Fuck, I think to myself. I got so lucky with all of them. They’re all athletic and hot as sin. And man, I wanna lick his abs for breakfast.
Roman’s brow rises, and I realize I said that out loud. Hunter is laughing, and I shake my head.
“Well, who can blame me? Roman has abs for days. My big Viking.” I love that his hair is still in braids. It’s a little fuzzy from sleep, but I will just do them again later when we’re watching TV or just sitting around shooting the shit.
I lift my arms and Roman slips the tee over my head. It’s warm and smells like him . . . and bacon. “Mmm, yummy.”
He kisses me and slaps my ass. I jump, and he gives me a sly grin. “Sit. You will eat first, then get dressed later,” Roman tells me. And dang, I want to say “yes sir” to see what he will do.
I giggle and he raises his brow at me. “Or not . . . I like wearing your clothes.”.
He nods, grunts, and returns to the stove.
I take a seat, and Asher sits across from me. I take a sip of orange juice and it’s so fresh.
“It’s freshly squeezed,” Hunter says as he kisses the side of my head. Then he takes a seat beside me, and I drop my head to his shoulder. God, this guy.
“I feel very spoiled.”
Jace comes out of the room and squeezes my shoulder as he takes a seat beside Asher. “Get used to it. We all want to spoil you.” Jace smiles and waves his hand around. “This is your life now. Hunter and Roman are here alone. Imagine if we had a place like this. This is your home, and we are your four husbands, spoiling you all the time.”
I smile at the thought. Only, Hunter and Jace will go off to college. Asher too . . . fuck. Roman and I will be the only two left. I’m not going to college. I have a plan, and it involves Roman.
“After four years of college for the three of you?” I quirk a brow. I want to know what his plans are. I want Jace to chase his dream. I want all of them to.
Asher shrugs. “I don’t know, I have money for college, but I don’t know if I’m gonna go now.”
“Asher, you can’t not go. You want to go, I know that. I want us to all stay together, but I know that’s not going to happen, and there’s nothing wrong with long distance. We will make it work. I promise.” I reach over and grip his hand.
“I don’t need to go to college. I can get a job doing construction. I’m good with my hands,” Jace says.
I shake my head. “No, you are getting that scholarship and going to college, or you’re not allowed to be my boyfriend anymore.”
Jace grumbles, but I see the smile on his face. He wants college, but he doesn’t want to lose me and I’m going to make sure he know that won’t happen as many time as he needs to hear it.
“No one will break up, I promise. If you all go to college, we will work it out. Maybe if you all get into the same one, Roman and I can move close, and we can all live together.”
They all nod, and Roman places the bacon, eggs, and pancakes in front of us all.
“Okay, I agree to that because Roman can cook,” Asher says as he dives in.
I realize Hunter hasn’t said anything, and I squeeze his leg under the table. I want to know what’s going through his head.
But either way, that conversation has started, and I’m glad. It’s been something I have worried about. Them changing their dreams for me.
I don’t want that, and I couldn’t live with myself if they did.
I see Joe’s name on my caller ID and hesitate.
Asher takes it from my hand and answers. “Hi, Joe. It’s Asher, Mila’s boyfriend. I will just get her for you.”
I put my hands up in a silent plea, mouthing the word no. I can’t talk to him; I don’t want to know. But Asher puts the cell in my hand and walks away.
Hearing Joe calling out through the speakers, I take a deep breath and still myself before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Joe.” I grit my teeth. I don’t want to know what happened with my mother. I’ve seen a little bit of it on the news, but I turned it off, because I just couldn’t face the fact that she tried to frame me.
“Mila, I’m not sure if you heard the news, but your mother and your stepbrother have been arrested for the murder of Malcolm.”
I nod and whisper, “Yes.”
Joe continues. “They found Junior. He had knife wounds that were healing on his hands, and he confessed to murdering his father. Apparently, your mother and him were having an affair for the past two years. When Malcolm found out the baby wasn’t his, he confronted them and demanded a divorce.
“They threatened to go to the media about it, and he didn’t want that for his son or his granddaughter. It also wouldn’t look good with his business partners, so you coming back to New York was so he could explain what’s going to happen, and he hoped you would help support your mother during the transition. He’d bought an apartment in the same building for your mother to raise the baby. So his grandchild would be close and well taken care of.”
I let out a sob, the tears tracking down my cheeks. Malcolm was the nicest guy. He was odd and old-fashioned at times, but he was always there. He cared, in his own way. He wasn’t close to me. I wouldn’t say we had a good relationship. But he was always working or doing whatever Mom wanted him to do. Like sending me away back home to Ridgecrest.
But for his own wife and son to kill him . . . that is so sad. He didn’t have much in the way of family; his son was the only family he really had.
“Mom wanted me to come home. She wanted me to return because she knew I had killed someone in self-defense here, and it’s easy to pin a murder on a murderer,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I’d put it all together; it’s the only thing that makes sense.
“Yes, and it seems his will is going to be an issue. You’re the next of kin for your mother.”
My mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?” I don’t want blood money. “I don’t want Malcolm’s money. I want Malcolm back. I would choose him over money any day of the week.”
“You’re better than most, Mila. Stay like that. The world needs more people like you. Still, you are next in line, but the baby your mother’s carrying will also have a half share.”
Fuck, I forget about the poor baby. So innocent in all of this. Her parents in jail before she’s even born and shit. Who will raise her? I’m too young. Dad and Kate? No.
“Junior’s mom, will she raise the baby?” I ask him.
“She has asked to have custody of the baby, yes, but I wanted to discuss what you wanted to do?”
I shake my head and wipe the tears away. “No, I think she should raise her granddaughter. She wasn’t a bad mom. She just had a bad egg from the start. And I don’t want the money, Joe. Not one cent. I want you to give it all to the baby. She’s gonna need it.”
That, and a lot of therapy.
“Just tell me one thing. Am I ever gonna see either of them walking free in my lifetime?”
“No,” Joe replies.
I nod and end the call while sitting there, staring at the blank wall. Asher comes back in and wraps his arms around me, and I cry. He holds me for as long as I need to let it all out.
I don’t think I will get over Malcolm’s death. Damon was different. He deserved what was coming to him. Malcolm . . . he would have made a great grandfather. I think he’s one of those guys who would have spoiled his grandchild.
“Mila?” Asher whispers my name.
I haven’t cried in a while, and I’m just lying in Asher’s arms, thinking of all the nice things Malcolm ever done for me. “Yeah?” I say as he rocks me softly.
“There were some Christmas gifts sent here from Joe. They’re from Malcolm and your mom, but he said that Malcolm bought them, and he wanted you to have them.”
I sit up and look around the room. I don’t see any gifts.
“I hid them in my room. Mom said you might not be ready, and I didn’t want you getting upset over them, so I have been holding onto them for you.”
I rub my eyes and nod. “I want them.” I do. Malcolm made every Christmas special for me. Even if he got his secretary to buy them, the gifts are still special to me.
Asher jumps up, and when he returns, he has three gifts. One is large and the other two are smaller.
“Joe spoke to his secretary . . .”
My brows raise, and I laugh. “I knew it. I knew she did the Christmas shopping.”
Asher shakes his head at me. “No, apparently, he did it all himself. He was a huge fan of Christmas and giving. So, he would ask her where to find the things he wanted to buy you and Junior.”
My face drops at the mention of Junior. But Malcolm actually bought my gifts. I swallow the lump in my throat. All the gifts he gave me were meaningful. Things I liked.
I nod and take the big gift. I remove the wrapping paper gently, not wanting to rip it. I don’t think he wrapped them—they’re store wrapped—but I just don’t want to rip something that he touched. When I open the box, I find watercolors and a canvas. There’s a guide to watercolor painting in there too, and I suck in a breath.
I’m speechless. The lump in my throat grows larger as I pull it all out, including one of Malcolm’s business card. On the back, it says, “I believe in you, Mila,” and I burst out crying.
Asher’s holding me again, and I think my crying has triggered everyone in the house. Kate is by my side, and she wraps me in her arms.
Dad stands back and looks at the card. “Oh, sweetheart.”
And I nod. I want to tell them what it means. What this gift means to me and why it’s making me cry.
“I was walking through Central Park one day, and I saw an artist painting with watercolors. It was a beautiful painting, and I came home and told my mom and Malcolm at dinner.”
I frown slightly. That dinner, Mom told me I was wasting my time with painting and that I should be spending my time finding a rich boyfriend at school.
“Mom wasn’t interested in my art, ever. She didn’t care, but Malcolm encouraged me. Even when she put me down, he would tell me not to listen. One of the last times I saw him before coming back here, he asked me if I still liked watercolor, and I said I gave up art. That I wasn’t good enough. And he told me he believed in me. That art comes from within, and he could see I have talent.”
I touch the paints with my fingertips, and Kate sniffs beside me. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mila.”
She hugs me tighter, and I realize then that no one has said that to me. I was viewed as the killer and not the victim for so long that it must not have registered that I lost him. That it was a loss to me, and people should pay their respects like they did for Roman when he lost his father.
Malcolm might not have been my father, but he was someone who meant something to me. He treated me like a person when my mother treated me like a mistake. I will make sure that baby in her tummy never knows her, and she will never know what it’s like to feel less than by her own mother.
My dad moves in and wraps me in his arms, and I cry. “Malcolm was a good man. I’m sorry for your loss, sweetheart. You’ve had too much happen in your life already. I love you and only want you to be happy form now on.”
I let out a deep sigh and yawn. I’m exhausted.
“You need some rest. How about a nap, and when you wake up, Kate and I will bake you a cake?”
I smile and nod, wanting to see how good my dad is at baking. I let him carry me to my bed. I feel like I’m five years old again.
“I love you, Dad,” I whisper as he lays me down and tucks me into bed.
“I love you always, my baby girl.” He kisses me on the head, and I close my eyes, letting sleep take me.
