Tristan is a piece of shit.
And we are going to find him.
It’s one thing to fuck with my head. To fuck with my life.
But now he’s fucking with my money.
Wherever he is, it’s about time we lured him out.
22
AMARA
I’m going stir-crazy.
It feels silly to say, considering I’m living in a house the size of a shopping mall. But swimming when you’re pregnant is awkward. You get cramps in your belly when the baby tenses up from the cool water and you don’t float evenly. I feel like a fishing bobber and fear I might drown even in the shallow end.
If I am being honest, there is little to no appeal in the gym. I’m more of a long walks outside kind of girl, and one can only circle a private estate so many times before the view of the upper one percent’s luxury becomes annoying.
I’ve watched every show I’ve ever wanted to watch on Netflix. I’ve played more games of foosball that I’d like to admit. So now, I am sitting in the middle of a spare room that has nothing in it, creating a Pinterest board calledNursery.
Not that I know if we will be here once he’s born. But I like to think we will. And if we are, this will be his room. It has a bay window and is one of the only ones in the entirety of the estate where morning sun pours in.
I want him to be warm. To feel safe. Even if I can’t always protect him.
Suddenly, the door flies open and Ransome is standing there.
“Jesus!” I cry out, feeling like a cat on the ceiling. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“Making a Pinterest board?” I can’t quite keep theduhout of my tone, but sue me. At this point, my hormones are the least of my problems. “God, what is this, an ambush? Are you going to sprout fur and growl at me that I’m not allowed in the west wing?”
“You’re allowed to go anywhere you want in the house; I already told you that.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t know where you were.”
Wait. Is Ransome…nervous?
More importantly, though—was heworriedabout me?
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Ransome is not amused. “I’ve had a shit day.”
“Obviously.” I grunt as I push myself up off the floor.
Ransome rushes over to help me. “You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor,” he says.
“Well, there’s no furniture in here.” I point out the obvious.
“So we furnish it. Whatever you want.”
I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. Then I look at my phone. “It’s only noon. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“There’s nothing for me to do at work.” He throws his hands in the air and paces. “Or if there is, I don’t know about it.”
I bite my lips. I’ve never seen him like this. Something really managed to worm its way under his skin. “Shouldn’t your assistant help you with that?”
“I don’t have an assistant.”
