Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 144042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 720(@200wpm)___ 576(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 720(@200wpm)___ 576(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
John steps back from the doorway. “Can we take all the drama inside, please?”
“No drama,” Brenna assures. “Just dealing with someone’s big head.”
“Which head are you talking about?” Rye says with stage leer. “Because I have two heads, sweetheart, and they’re both big.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Brenna sing-songs as everyone files into the penthouse.
“Where’s Sophie?” John asks, cutting off Rye’s protests.
“Out with her mum.” Scottie makes his way to the Biedermeier sideboard that serves as a bar. “She sends her regrets.”
Before John can close the door, the elevator dings again, and a pretty woman with silver-blue hair steps out. She looks like a 1940s pinup but is dressed in blue overalls and red Chucks and is holding a large tin food container. “Freedom!” she cries in a very good Braveheart impression, hand held high in victory.
From the way Scottie and Felix both beam at her, I’m guessing this is Sophie.
John gives her a kiss hello on the cheek. “Thank Christ. I don’t want to deal with Scottie being in a mood because you’re not here.”
Scottie snorts. “For that, I’ll still be a moody git to you.” But to Sophie he smiles. “Darling, your men have missed you.” Felix squawks in agreement.
“My handsome boys,” Sophie coos, smothering them with smoochie kisses. Neither male seems to mind in the least. In fact, they both purr under her care. She turns to John. “I know you have dinner covered, so I brought some bibingka for dessert.” Her words trail off and her eyes go wide with some sort of internalized shock. “Holy hell, I’m becoming my mother. Quick, somebody take this damn food and perform an exorcism!”
John snickers. “Too late, the damage is done.”
“Oh, hush your evil mouth.” She swats his arm and then turns to me with a smile. “Hey, I’m Sophie. I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Really?” It comes out in an embarrassing squeak.
“Oh, yes. Gabriel says you’re driving Jax crazy.” She practically beams. “Which is a wonderful thing indeed.”
“Darling,” Scottie interjects smoothly, “leave Jax be. He’ll have a fit, and we’ll never eat.”
“Watch out, Stells,” John murmurs. “Apparently, I’m to have a fit soon.”
“At least I know I drive you crazy.”
“You already knew that, Button.”
True.
He closes the door, and I step close to him. “Who is Maddy?”
The extremely fond look in his eyes kind of makes me want to scream. Especially since it’s clear he knows I’m jealous. “Maddy, my dear sweet Stella, is our seventy-four-year-old neighbor who kindly lets me into her home now and then when I get lonely for company.”
I stare like a stunned deer for a second before my body sags. “Oh.”
He’s smug as hell and has every right to be. “I kind of love that jealous little growl you made, though.”
“I did not growl.” I wrinkle my nose when he stares me down. Okay, I might have growled. “Maddy is Mrs. Goldman?” What is her first name? Madeline? It has to be her. Though I can’t picture calling her Maddy.
John confirms it with a nod. “You’ve met her?”
“We had lunch together. She tried to play matchmaker between us.”
“Really?” He sounds pleased. “Well, that just proves she has great taste.”
“Don’t get a bigger head, John. You still need to fit through doors.”
Smiling, he touches my wrinkled nose fondly. “I was talking about her taste in you.”
Gah. He’s going to kill me with his charm. They’ll find me in a puddle of lust with only my panties floating in it.
“Hey,” Rye calls over to us, “stop making heart eyes at each other, and let’s cook. I’m hungry.”
John’s mouth quirks. “Lesson one when it comes to my guys: Rye is an asshat.”
“I heard that!”
“I meant you to!” Shaking his head and silently laughing, John takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen.
And that is when I fully realize I’m going to have dinner with three-fourths of Kill John. More importantly, I’m with John’s closest friends. Suddenly, I’m nervous.
John
* * *
Stella is about to meet the majority of my family. My true family, that is. I have parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Not a single one of them acknowledges me anymore. I’m an embarrassment. First, for being a rocker. Second, for publicly exposing my mental health “issues.” For them, decorum trumps everything. One does not gyrate on a stage, singing songs about fucking. And one definitely does not try to take one’s own life in a public manner. Apparently, you do that shit behind closed doors and wait for the family to properly cover it up.
My family takes pride in the blueness of their blood and expects every member to behave accordingly. I find this ironic as hell, given that I’ve met the Queen of England, have hung out with both young princes, and am generally more familiar with Royal Palace-sponsored events than any member of my esteemed family. Maybe that’s the problem—I succeeded on my own terms.