Carson (Dangerous Doms 4)

“You have work to do, Carson?” Maeve asks.

“I do, but I can fit it in,” he says.

“And I’ll help,” I offer.

He sits on the couch and settles Breena on his lap. “Would you like to go for a walk to the pier?” he asks. “See the fish?”

Breena claps her hands and nods vigorously. “Aye,” she says. “Pwease!”

God, she’s so damn cute.

“First we go home,” he says to Breena. “Pack a lunch and grab our things. Then off we’ll go.”

She nods and claps her hands again. “Megan too?”

“Aye,” Carson says. “Of course.”

I watch him as if I’ve only seen him for the first time. This large, stern, alpha male turns into a puddle of goo when it comes to his little girl. My heart literally melts.

As we go to exit the room, Carson leans in and whispers in my ear. “Take a bag.”

Hope rises in my chest. He wants me. He really, truly does. “A bag?” I whisper back.

“Aye, love,” he says. “Take your things for tonight. Don’t forget anything. I want you in my bed tonight.”

A shimmer of excitement flickers through me at the thought of staying the night at his place. God, I cannot fucking wait.

“Wait here for me?” I ask. He nods. “I’ll see you by the garage.”

I head upstairs, only to find there’s already a bag packed. Did he pack this while I was getting dressed earlier? I smile to myself. Dresses, knickers, and shoes. I toss in a few more toiletry items.

I want to run to the rooftop and sing, Carson wants me! Me. Not the prettiest girl or the smartest girl, but me, goofy, clumsy, rather plump ME.

Where other men avoided me because of my connections, I think it’s actually helped me. Helped us, really. He doesn’t have to explain what he does or his allegiance to Keenan or the Clan. I already get it. I’m already there with him.

I take the bag he packed and head to my room. I freeze. Oh, God.

The diary.

I open the pocket at the very back to find the diary untouched. I take the ruined diary out of my bag and look at it. It feels as if it’s a sort of betrayal, not telling Carson about it. But what if it implicates him?

I’ll tell him tonight. I have to.

I zip up the pocket.Chapter 11Carson“Well, it is somewhat narcissistic, isn’t it?” Megan says. Breena plays with her dolls happily on the carpeted floor. She’s got a streak of chocolate ice cream on her dress, and her hair’s a mess. She looks every bit the little girl who’s had an excellent day.

“What exactly is narcissistic?”

I’m relaxing on a chaise, my trainers kicked off, watching the news on the iPad, while Breena sings to herself and plays happily. Christ, but it feels good to be having an adult conversation.

Megan’s bloody brilliant. She’s resting beside me, her feet propped up. After a day by the harbor, she made us dinner, even though I offered to order takeaway. It was a simple meal with pasta and chicken, salad and wine, but it was delicious. We cleaned the kitchen up together,

“The whole government hierarchy,” she says. “Kings and queens, presidents and prime ministers. I don’t believe in total anarchy, of course, but honestly, I wonder if the hierarchical structure is the right way to govern.”

I can’t help but take this in, and I go off on a tangent about nepotism and fairness, and the wisdom inherent in the American political systems of checks and balances and how it differs from the British.

She listens and nods and offers her own opinion, but finally shakes her head with a little laugh. “You know, I could sit at your feet and just listen to you speak, all day long. You’ve got a grasp for words and the English language unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Breena looks up, oblivious to how we’re solving the problems of the world.

“Play, daddy,” she says, holding up the little doll in her hand. I take the two she offers, and hold them up, speaking in a high falsetto voice, bobbing the head of one doll, while the other speaks in a theatrically deeper one.

Megan grins. “I think you’re losing your touch, sir,” she says with a teasing smile. “How can I take you seriously when you’re playing with dollies?”

I lean my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Oh, I think we can remedy you taking me seriously later, love.” I watch the way her cheeks flush and her breaths come in shorter gasps. Breena’s back is to me, as she’s intent with her dolls, so I take a discreet moment to weave my fingers through Megan’s wild mass of waves and give her a firm tug. She gasps. “Won’t we?”

Her response is somewhere between a squeak and a moan.

We get Breena ready for bed and dress her in her jammies. She snuggles between us on the couch. She’s dragged a fistful of picture books with her, and holds them up, her eyes wide with expectation.