Coerced Queen (New York Underworld #3) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New York Underworld Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
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When she walks away from me on the indoor sundeck, I give her space. It’s the least I can do. But that doesn’t mean I like it. My chest feels too tight. A weight that wasn’t there this morning settles squarely on my shoulders.

I give it fifteen minutes before I go to the master suite to change. Anya is nursing Claire in the wingback chair by the window, staring at her baby with a soft smile on her pretty face. She changed into a sweater and leggings. Her feet are clad in thick socks. Judging by the smell of her floral shampoo that hangs in the room, she finished her shower not long ago. Her wet hair is brushed out and arranged over one shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I have a quick shower and pull on a hoodie, a pair of jeans, and my favorite boots.

When I exit the bathroom, Anya and Claire are gone. Panic hits me first. Bereavement follows fast and hard. The sentiments are always present when my girls are not in my immediate sight, but usually, they’re more of a vague uneasiness that won’t leave me alone.

Today, the feelings are more pronounced, maybe because of the unpleasant moment earlier. It’s like an odd kind of foreboding, like having the devil breathe down my neck. It bothers me to the extent that I’m in too much of a rush to see for myself that they’re safe and sound to dry my hair. I settle for brushing the strands through with my fingers while hurrying downstairs as fast as the cane allows to find them in the lounge in front of the fireplace.

My chest expands with relief. It feels a lot like waking up after a bad dream to realize the anguish was for nothing. Claire lies on her tummy on a baby blanket while Anya sits crossed-legged in front of her. Anya shows Claire colorful pictures of fruit and vegetables and points at each one while pronouncing the name.

“Apple,” she says, holding up a flashcard with an apple, a pear, a banana, and an orange while pointing at the apple.

Claire pokes the picture of the red apple with a small finger.

“Yes,” Anya exclaims, uttering a delighted laugh. “What a clever girl you are.”

A cute little baby chuckle bubbles over Claire’s lips at her mother’s praise, which makes Anya laugh harder.

Feeling like an outsider looking in on an intimate scene, I’m reluctant to encroach on their game. Dante and Livy choose that moment to return, leaving deep footprints in the snow across the yard.

Their laughter reaches me from the mud room next to the kitchen. Tearing my gaze away from Anya and Claire, I limp to the door to go start lunch. Anya still doesn’t say a word to me. She gives no indication that she’s aware of my presence. I may as well be invisible. She’s happily absorbed in her game with Claire, and I can’t help but feel excluded.

Since we’re in the mountains, I thought a cheese fondue would be fun. While I take out the ingredients, Dante sets the big table in the rustic dining room. Livy goes upstairs to change out of her snowsuit.

Our lunch is convivial enough with Anya drawing Dante and Livy into a conversation about their hike. Dante is in his element, making jokes that have the ladies in stitches. Claire sits next to Anya in a highchair, turning her little head between the grownups and observing them with concentration. If anyone notices that I’m quiet, they don’t say so. I try to make the meal pleasant for my birthday girl, making sure everyone’s glasses remain full and that the dishes are refilled as they run empty, but try as I may, I fail spectacularly in making her special day happy. Despite the pretty smile she wears, she’s hurting. I know her well enough by now to know when she’s faking it. But I always knew I was going to break her heart, and there’s nothing to do about it but give her small acts of comfort.

In the afternoon, we play boardgames in the lounge in front of the fire. I remember from the Christmas we spent with Livy that Anya enjoyed that. Dante, who hates boardgames, is a real sport. Not only does he play Scrabble and Cluedo without complaining but he even seems to enjoy it. It’s his idea to play Blackjack. Anya promises she won’t read the cards, and Livy and Dante giggle like kids when she loses.

Anya admits defeat and snuggles on the sofa with Claire lying on her chest while Dante challenges Livy for a round that quickly turns into a drinking game. Despite the raucous laughter, my girls fall asleep. I cover them with a blanket and sit down next to them with my arm around Anya’s shoulders as Livy and Dante polish half a bottle of Jägermeister.


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