Thief: A Bad Boy Romance (72 page)

I
grin
as I watch Oliver fidget with the sign on the inside of the glass front door to
Ella
.

Close for the holiday weekend
, it says, and I smile while I wait outside by the car as I watch him meticulously level it. “You know, I can promise you that the restaurant will be here when we get back.”

He smirks at me through the glass before he finally steps back, nods at his handiwork, and walks out the door to join me. “Just remember where we parked it, yeah?” He says with a sly wink.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Closing for three days over the holidays?” Oliver snorts. “Fuck no, but I think we might lose our minds if we don’t.”

I laugh. “No, I mean, my mom coming, and her meeting
Danny
?”

Oliver arches a brow at me as he checks his watch. “Well her plane lands in two hours. Bit late for second thoughts, luv. Besides, after the convincing it took to get her to come back to the general vicinity of Europe, let alone
London?
” He whistles.

OK, so it took
both
of us,
pleading
to get Mom to come over for Christmas. I mean what was she going to do, spend it alone in our house back home? I mean it’s not like
I
could fly.

Third trimester and all that.

Ultimately, I think it was Oliver promising that Barney was still boozing it up somewhere in the Casino circuit of Italy and would not be anywhere
close
to London that convinced her. Introducing her to Danny Cole again was
not
my idea, but Oliver insists they hit it off the first time.

“I’m really not sure about that.”

Oliver grins at me. “And why ever not?”

I know what he’s up to, and arch my brow at him. “Um, because he’s little bit
crude
and crass and-”

“And a bit like me, yeah?”

“Honestly, yes.”

He laughs.

“And my mom is a little more
level
; she’s a little bit more prim and proper I guess. Just a little bit-”

“Like you?”

I smirk as Oliver turns the key in the lock of the front door to
Ella
and throws an arm over my shoulder. “Yeah, bizarre that one. Imagine that; the uptight prude and the bossy scoundrel.” He winks at me. “Right, can’t see that one
possibly
working out,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.

Life is complicated. Oliver and his dad
have
talked, but infrequently, but I think they both know they need space from each other. Of course if Barney ever comes near my mom again, I think even Oliver might toss him out a window.

Jolie
is still around; we even pass it infrequently on strolls around our new South Bank neighborhood, which is sort of sweet considering our history there. Of course, it’s not exactly bustling the same way it was a year ago, when Oliver and I were there and before the
Times
review was published.

I didn’t end up reading it until much later, after I’d decided I was an idiot and came running back to the heart I’d left in London. But the review ended up being
decent
for
Jolie
, but
amazing
for Oliver. A “classic case of ego run amok in the management ranks” I believe they said, regarding Barney’s drunken fight with Oliver and subsequent public firing. “An efficient, if not creatively stifling environment for the best thing to hit the London food circuit since Danny Cole, and probably better.”

Yeah,
that
stoked my husband’s ego in ways it couldn’t
possibly
need, but I also couldn’t have been prouder.

Oh, right, yeah;
husband
. I guess I forgot to mention that little detail.

Oliver and I were married six months after I came back to London, in a small ceremony back in L.A., actually.

Barney and Delia, who are apparently and quite unbelievably still together, were not invited.

Danny did come though, grinning the whole time like he couldn’t possibly be prouder of Oliver. Marco managed to come out as well, and ended up being so taken with the food scene in L.A. that he ended up
staying
and landing a pretty great job.

Apparently, there’s something about a girl involved too, but that’s a
whole
other story.

Our
story though, is right where it needs to be. Danny and Oliver are about to go in as investors on another project, which should ideally free up some time for when our baby boy comes, which can’t be soon enough. And honestly, if I hear one more “bun in the oven” joke - yeah, no, I
get
it, and yes you’re
very
hilarious - I might go a little crazy.

So somehow, like random ingredients percolating and mixing together to make something wonderful, two opposites became one, perfect, delicious whole.

Oliver glances up at the grey London sky. “Looks like snow.” I grin as wraps his arms around me in the chilly air as he leans in and kisses me. “I love you,” he murmurs, his hand coming down to rest on top of my swollen belly. “
Both
of you.”

“I love you too,” I say, kissing him. “And I know she can’t wait to meet you.”

“Oh it’s a she now, is it?” Oliver grins. We’ve decided to wait and be surprised, not that it stops either of us from guessing.

“Oh of
course
it is!” I smile at him. “As if the world needs one more male Beckett running around.”

Oliver grins. “
Very
fair point.” He glances at his watch. “Now, get in the car, luv. Let’s go do Christmas.”

“Yes, chef,” I managed to get out, before his lips sear to mine
just
as the snow begins to fall.

S
ports Romance
:

Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

S
tandalone Stepbrother Romance
:

Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance

Cockney: A British Stepbrother Romance

Crude: A Stepbrother Romance

S
oldiers of Fortune Series
:

Heat

Burn

Scorch

Roar

A
ubrey Irons enjoys writing
about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy!

In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one
very
ill-behaved puppy.

F
ive years ago
, that cocky, egotistical a**hole played me like a fool and broke my heart.

Hudson Banks; the dominant, tattooed, womanizing, ex-Marine-turned-billionaire who runs God-knows-what at my late father’s company.

Oh, and he’s sexy as all f**k, and he damn well knows it.

He’s like a gasoline fire; a scorchingly hot disaster, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to get burned.

I’m on track to be the youngest New York State Senator ever elected; the bright, gutsy, good-girl media darling. Except my campaign funding just went dry, and it looks like the only solution is coming from the last person on Earth I’d ever want to take anything from. Oh, and it turns out bad-boy, tough-guy Hudson will be shadowing me 24/7 after he makes it clear that he’s in charge of "protecting the investment".

Yeah, just perfect; a reckless, irresistible d*ck like Hudson Banks is the last person I need being “in charge” of anything to do with me.

Especially when I still can’t forget the taste of his lips or the feeling of that massive hardness I know he’s packing between his legs. It’s not fair that he’s even hotter now than he was back then. It’s not fair that those smoldering, arrogant eyes and that cocky, panty-melting grin still make me warm in places they shouldn’t. And it’s definitely not fair that five years later, I still can’t get him out of my head.

So it looks like I’ve got two races on my hands: the one for election, and the one against the burning heat threatening to tear us both apart. But on the sprint to the finish line, what happens when the man who has everything comes up against the one thing he can’t have?