The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #13)(86)

It was your tie to the past. Your sanity. And, a lot of times, the only person you could trust.

Boy, she much preferred this current relocation—that was because of a job, not some overbred hellren type.

“I’m fine, Vuchie.” She tried to smile. “Are you hungry yourself?”

“Mistress, you did not have Last Meal, either.”

Parry had no intention of coming clean with the truth—namely that if she had so much as half a nook or a quarter of a cranny, she was going to go golf sprinkler all over her stewardess-ness. That kind of candor was only to going to lead to a fight over bed rest, and likely, Vuchie calling in her father for R&R reinforcement.

“You know what I would love?” Parry forced a smile. “If you could prepare something for me to eat at my desk.” She went over and linked arms with Vuchie. “Come on, let’s do this.”

“But … but … but—”

“I’m so glad you agree. I just love it when we’re on the same page like this.”

Up at the top of the curving, rough-cut stone staircase, they stepped through a life-size portrait of a French royal into the parlor, where the receiving area was located.

“It’s so quiet,” Paradise said, stilling.

The room, like the rest of the house, was just so beautifully decorated, antiques everywhere, silks and satins on the walls and the floors, even the chairs people were to wait in covered in rich fabrics. It reminded her of articles she’d read in Vogue and Vanity Fair about Babe Paley and Slim Keith, the scale of the furnishings so perfect, the objets d’art little whimsies of jade and gold and brass, the colors restrained, but not weak.

“I guess Father isn’t here, yet.”

As if on cue, the automatic shutters rose from all the windows, the subtle whirring sound making her jump.

“I shall go attend to the kitchen,” Vuchie said. “And prepare your First Meal.”

As her maid walked off, Paradise nearly called the female back. But for God’s sake, the doggen was not a security blanket.

Determined to get herself ready, even though she didn’t know what she was going to be doing, she went over and sat down behind the desk and … played with the mouse, which got her to a password-protected screen she didn’t bother trying to crack.

Wi-Fi underground was one thing. The computer here? Was going to be locked and then some.

One by one, she opened the drawers, finding nothing but stationery supplies, stationery supplies … and yeah, wow, more stationery stuff—

She heard the voices first. Deep. Low. Very masculine.

Then the front door opened. And there was the bass chorus of many, many heavy feet in boots crossing the threshold—

Paradise’s first thought was to hide under the desk.

Members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood filed into the house, all of them dressed in black leather, each one of them armed with brutal-looking weapons.

They were bigger than she remembered from her introductions the previous night. And it wasn’t like she’d filed the memory of them in the pipsqueak category, either.

“…pump a couple of rounds off in their head,” one of them said.

There was some laughter, and another added, “Or their ass. I ain’t too proud.”

Cue the proverbial tire squealing as they all stopped short and looked at her. Thank God she was sitting down. And the desk added a barrier of sorts between her and all that warrior.

“Hey,” one of them said, the one with the Ben Affleck accent. “Your first night, huh?”

As she started to nod, her father flashed in through the open door.

“I am here, I am here!” Her dad pressed through the group. “Paradise, how fare you?”

As he came up to her, she got to her feet and hugged him hard. She could do this, she told herself. She could absolutely, positively do this.

Really.

Honest.

God, there were a lot of males in the house.

Twins. She was having twins.

As Layla lay in the hospital bed, she rubbed her belly with her free hand, the one that was not hanging out the end of the cast that ran up to above her right elbow. Her aches from her two falls had faded, and the bone break that Manny had taken care of was already knitted back together. The plaster or nylon or whatever it was was going to be cut off in a little bit.

Twins.

Even though she’d had all day to try to get used to the news, she was still stunned—and making things worse, she and Qhuinn hadn’t really talked about it.

Or what he’d gotten so interested in when it came to those clothes she’d been wearing.

By the time he’d come back with a flannel nightie and her favorite pink robe, she’d been asleep. He’d been good enough to lay the robe over her and leave her be.

Was he mad at her? Had he guessed that she’d been lying about where her car trips had been taking her?

Goddamn, as the Brothers would say—

The knock on her door brought her head up. “Yes?”

Sure as if he’d read her mind, Qhuinn leaned his heavy upper body into the room. “Hey. I just wanted to check in with you before I left tonight. How’re you feeling?”

Layla took a deep breath and tried to have nothing show in her face.

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good.”