“Is he staying long?”
“I don’t know. I presume for the night. He is like... checking their security systems, having staff thoroughly interrogated, big boss man stuff like that. You didn’t know?”
No…
Change the subject, Fawn.
"Does Clay hear you talk about him like that? Have you ever said, 'big boss man' to his face?" I ask, picturing Clay’s disapproving expression.
She snorts, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "God, no. I value my employment and my life."
Luca suddenly gets a little too enthusiastic, then yanks away from my nipple without releasing suction first, causing me to yelp in sharp pain. I slap my palm over my now throbbing, elastic nipple, cradling the stinging flesh.
I wince. "Ouch! Not cool at all."
Jasmine gasps. “Does he have teeth?”
“Only two.” I shake my head. “Still hurts when he rips his mouth away without unlatching.”
“Not an entire row of sharp teeth, though?” she confirms. “Right? Right? Right?”
I tilt my head. “What’s your malfunction?”
“I had a nightmare about baby teeth.”
Huh?“Baby teeth?”
“Yeah…”she drawls, nodding slowly, as if reliving it, then shudders. “It was—weird. I’ve seen you wince when breastfeeding so many times, so I guess my brain just took that information and ran with it.”
Okey Dokey.
“Right…” I lift Luca to my shoulder, burping him gently, and stand to walk to the edge of Ash’s cot. He patty-cakes the lion and deer mobile with his hands. “You don’t have sharp teeth, do you, my little prince?” He smiles up at me like I am his favourite sight, then giggles, chubby cheeks bunching over a big goofy grin. “No, you don’t. Oh, no you don’t.”
Jasmine laughs, reaching for Luca. "Let me take this little vampire while you get yourself together. We've got some serious shopping to do."
“And Sir is okay with this?” I hand Luca over, adjusting my silk nursing bra. “He knows?”
“Bolton already confirmed it. Something about having more fun… I haven’t heard the boss use the word fun before. Maybe he was drunk.”
Drunk? Surely not.
He is too controlled.
"Fine.” I look at Luca, who has a splatter of breast milk vomit on his lower lip. He rubs it into Jasmine’s shirt, and she tries to look disgusted, but she adores that chubby bundle. “Okay. More fun.”Without Sir.I inwardly sulk. “So, I want that sausage roll on the way, then?”
Two hours later, our ridiculous entourage sweeps through the gleaming doors of the Gucci flagship store in the District’s city centre.
Henchman Jeeves and three expressionless henchmen flank us, their eyes constantly scanning for threats even though the store is empty for our visit.
Of course.
Sir wouldn’t allow us to mingle with the public two days in one week. Hell forbid.
The twins are nestled in their double stroller—Luca now peaceful, Ash wide-eyed at the glittering chandeliers above.
The store manager practically bows as we enter. "Mrs Butcher, we're honoured by your presence. The private room is prepared as requested."
Mrs Butcher?
