Page 136 of Poison and Wine
Gritting my teeth, I replied, “I sure as hell wouldn’t be with you if you did.”
Callum exhaled. “Let me guess. You don’t want me having a part in the club, do you?”
I nodded. “Sell your stake of the club to your brothers.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
“Absolutely.”
As his jaw clenched and unclenched, Callum appeared to be weighing my words. “Fine. To ensure I don’t profit anymore on women, I’ll give my stake to Quinn.”
“What about Dare and Kellan?”
Callum chuckled. “Let’s just say I kinda owe Quinn for some extra work he’s done for the club.”
“As long as your brothers won’t be upset about it.”
“They won’t.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, Kitten. Just like that.” He leaned forward on the bed to where his mouth was inches from mine. “Does that make you happy?”
“A little.”
He chuckled. “What else would you have me do to make you very happy?”
I grinned. “Some epic groveling.”
“And what does that entail?”
Tapping my chin, I said, “Hmm, I would say you owe me many, many orgasms, but since that also benefits you, that’s a nope.”
Callum groaned. “I see you’re going to be cruel and demanding.”
“Aye, I am,” I replied, trying to sound like an Irish wife.
A wicked gleam burned in his blue eyes. “Denying yourself pleasure seems like cutting your nose off to spite your face.”
With a wink, I said, “Maybe I’ll revisit that one.”
Placing his hand on my abdomen, Callum’s expression grew earnest. “What can I do for our daughter?”
Tears once again welled in my eyes. “You’ve already given her the most important thing. A future of her own.”
“I’ll give her the world.” He placed a tender kiss on my lips. “Just as I will you.”
And I knew he meant every word. When Callum had kidnapped me from the Sacred Heart, I thought my life was over. Never would I have imagined it was just beginning.
Epilogue: Caterina
Ten Months Later
Although the decor surrounding us was bright and cheery, Callum’s dark mood permeated the room. As for me, I couldn’t help thinking how comical he appeared in a three piece suit pacing back and forth in front of the rainbow colored examining table. Wriggling on the crinkling paper was our three-month-old daughter, Julianna.
Callum had kept his word by allowing me to bestow an Italian name on our first born. I had given the Sicilian Giuliana an anglicized spelling. I’d furthered her Irish roots by giving her Maeve as a middle name. I couldn’t imagine a stronger role model for my daughter than her aunt.
Stripped out of the designer dress Quinn had bought, Julianna resided only in her diaper. As the nurse slipped the measuring tape through her dark curls, she kicked her legs and cooed. “She’s measuring right on target,” the nurse commented.