Lord.
Row screeched to a stop in front of him, blowing a hot breath. They were nose-to-nose, and both looked ready to kill each other.
“You crossed every fucking line tonight, and it’s not even seven o’clock,” Row informed him.
Tate looked unbothered. “Send me the bi—”
“There won’t be a bill. I’m burning this fucking condo to the ground after your spunk was released here. Hell, I’ll probably have Cal and my daughter move to a hoteltonight.” Row pointed at the floor, seething. “You’re buying me the Park Avenue apartment we went to see together.”
“That shithole’s still on the market?” Tate elevated a bored eyebrow. “It’s been three months.”
“Still for sale,” Row spat.
“It’s yours.” As Tate put his hand on my lower back and ushered me outside, he whispered in my ear, “Measly price to pay for the best fuck of my life.”
The drive to the engagement party was awkward, but at least we weren’t being followed anymore. The silence sat between the four of us like a ten-ton elephant.
Finally, Cal sighed. “Please, can we move on from this little oopsie? Row and I once did it on his prep station in Descartes. He was lucky he closed the restaurant voluntarily or it’d have been shut down.” She bit down on her lower lip.
Row narrowed his eyes at Tate. “That was inmykitchen,mystation. Tate is welcome to do whatever the fuck he wants on his property. Preferably drop dead.”
“Gonna live till I’m a hundred and twenty just to spite you.” Tate smirked wolfishly, one arm slung over my shoulder. “Also, may I remind you that time in my Montauk Jacuzzi three months ago?”
Row scowled. “How do you even know that? You weren’t home.”
“CCTV.”
“You were spying on us?” Row shrieked.
“I only watched the first five seconds before I added it to a PornHub compilation as retaliation. Nobody wants to bathe in your jizz, Row.”
Row unbuckled quickly, ready to pounce on him, before I yelped, “He’s kidding! He’s kidding.”
At least I hoped he was.
The exchangedidbreak the ice, because afterward, the three of them slid into conversation about how Row didn’t really even cook for the event, only helmed the staff that was working there. “Taylor’s handling the entire operation and pocketing fifty percent of it. The kid’s a wiz,” Row said warmly about his sous-chef.
My mind drifted elsewhere. A few minutes passed before I felt my husband shift toward me.
“What’s going on in that hectic mind of yours?”
“If we were to have children—and we won’t, butifwe did…” I trailed off.
“Yes?” He tilted an eyebrow.
“Our kids would be biracial,” I said, gnawing on my lip.
He stared at me flatly. “I’m well aware of that.”
“Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because it’s…well,different.” I clutched the trimmed hem of my dress, fumbling with it. “No matter how intelligent, beautiful, well-spoken, filthy rich, and powerful they’d be, sooner or later, they’d face prejudice and difficult moments. We’d have to have the gut-wrenching, frank conversations.”
“I am nothing if not fucking truthful.” He scanned me, then added, “Does it bother you?”
It didn’t. I was proud of my heritage and was excited for my children to be a part of it. But I wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into. “And you?”
