After setting the glass down, she faces me squarely. “Now talk!”
I consider how much to indulge that Cormac has mafia ties and that I now have a driver who takes me everywhere. My eyes stray to the idling SUV with tintedwindows at the curb.
“Apparently, my father told Cormac at his interview in August that he expects all professors to be married in order to get a full-time position at Hamilton.”
She throws back the rest of her vodka like it’s a shot. After swallowing, she says, “I need you to fill in more gaps.”
Grinning, I say, “When he couldn’t bear to marry anyone else, because he was still so into me, and I got screwed over by Pierce, he offered to marry me to fulfill that obligation, all while giving me a place to live and paying for my tuition.”
“You’re a walking, talking, dark romance novel.” Is Regan’s follow-up. “When was this wedding? Did my invitation get lost in the mail?”
I roll my eyes. “As soon as we told my father, he summoned an officiant, and we were married in his office.”
“No rings?” She stares down at my hand again.
“My father wants it to be quiet. Cormac played him. He said he’ll get me a ring for Christmas.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Is the marriage real? As in…with benefits?”
“It got pretty real last night.” I drag in a shaky breath.
Her brows fly up, and her voice jumps an octave. “Scarlett.”
I dig my nails into my thigh under the table. “Please don’t yell,” I whisper, leaning forward. “But yes, we had sex again.”
“Holy shit.” She presses a hand to her face. “Scarlett, you have to be careful with your heart this time. You left Pierce because you didn’t want to be married.”
“I know. I know.” My throat tightens. “But there’s something different about Cormac.”
Her voice gets low, though, “Are you happy?”
“Yeah, I’m very happy.”
Regan’s face softens. “Scarlett…” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You’re falling for your husband.”
My eyes sting. “I think I already fell.”
Chapter 40
Cormac
Idozed off after getting a text from Scarlett that she and Regan were at an Upper West Side dessert place called Whisk and Window. A peek at the tracker I put in her driver’s car confirms it.
When my phone rings hours later, I’m confused at first until I see both Sophie’s name and the time on my screen. That it’s 12:47 a.m. wakes me the fuck up.
Darragh mentioned he and Ana were going out of town this weekend to meet a Bratva enforcer in Chicago.
“Soph, what’s wrong?” I hate answering that way, but I would also hate to answer all cheery and then make her think she’s blindsiding me.
“J.P. is sick,” she says, panic in her voice.
“Sick, how?” Getting out of bed, I notice the empty side next to mine. Fuck. “Why are you calling me, munchkin? Where is your nanny?”
I rush into my closet and get dressed with the phone on speaker.
“Girdie isn’t here. Maya is in the bathroom with him.”
Maya? Who the fuck is Maya? But if Darragh left his children with her, I’m sure she’s been vetted.