Page 91 of Promise of Punishment

“I need to take him in and change his clothes.” She tugs on his stained swim shirt. “Better yet, he needs a bath and a nap.”

“Faelynn needs a nap too.” I do as well, but I’m not about to admit that.

“Look what I have,” sings Adelaide, walking toward us, carrying an octopus-shaped bubble machine. She must have got it from the hotel. Her hotel.

Ironically, this was the place where Mom had almost accepted a housekeeping job after we came back from England.

I had no idea who owned it and was surprised to learn Emery’s bestie does.

Her red hair stands out, the long waves brushing her waist like mine. Her eyes are the deepest blue I’ve ever seen. I met her when we first arrived for the week. We had dinner with her and her husband, Kingston, last night. Husband feels too ordinary a word for a man who looks like a “bat boy” straight from the pages of a fantasy romance in Emery’s bookstore.

I can’t tell if his eyes are clear, silver, or light gray. And that black hair... All I know is if those two have a baby, it will most likely be one of the most beautiful humans on the planet. Apart from mine and Wes’s, of course.

The wives were all late for the private dinner after Adelaide arranged for nannies so we could enjoy some pampering at the spa. When we walked out onto the terrace to dine with the sound of waves crashing to the shore and stars sparkling above, my heart almost stopped. Our husbands stood near the balcony in black tuxedos. The three of them together would knock any woman on her ass or send her to her knees.

Wes with his commanding presence, sculpted jawline, sensual mouth, and tousled locks falling around his beautiful face. Lachlan with his striking blue eyes, chiseled features, and murderous gleam that says look at my wife and I’ll kill you. And Kingston, the dark angel, as Adelaide calls him, with his black-as-night wavy hair, tan skin, and ghostly eyes that track his wife like a homing beacon.

“Did we all just die and wake up in a romance series?” Emery joked.

“I’ve been dying for him since I was eleven years old,” Adelaide murmured, her expression enamored.

I might have been able to say that about Wes had we met under different circumstances. From what Emery told me, she was forced into her marriage with Lachlan and hated him for it because he tricked her by making her think he was gay. She also mentioned Adelaide and Kingston had a love/hate relationship for years.

“I guess no one’s love story is a fairytale romance,” I said after they told me this a few months before my wedding to Wes, when we were here for a mini vacation and get-together.

They both agreed that my story with Wes and my upbringing proved even more I was a true blue blood, because people in their—our—elite world suffer abuse and trauma far beyond what outsiders who only see the opulence might think.

Faelynn’s laughter draws my gaze to the ocean. Wes holds her as he runs in and out of the surf, chasing the waves and making her giggle. I smile at them and the way the sun catches the fable tattoo with angel wings on his back.

“I’m taking him up,” Emery calls out to Lachlan.

He runs over, his lean muscles flexing beneath his Dara knot tattoo and Celtic writing that Wes said is the motto to his Scottish family’s coat of arms.

The Hale family have a motto too: Spectemur agendo, “Let us be judged by our actions.” Wes had it tattooed on his back after his father beat him and left him for dead, promising when he was powerful enough, he’d remind the “rotter” who raised him of its meaning.

Lachlan grabs Leith from Emery’s arms, tossing him in the air and making him giggle.

“Is it nap time?” he asks and bends to kiss his wife before licking a smudge of gelato from her cheek.

I shake my head and laugh silently. No more blushing for me when they do that. I’m much more desensitized now.

Adelaide joins us, the octopus still in her hand. “Did I miss the fun?”

“If by fun, you mean mess? Then yes.” Emery gestures to Leith. “Look at him.”

Adelaide grins. “I think someone liked his gelato.”

“We’re going to clean him up and get him down for a nap,” Emery explains. “But that bubble blower will be perfect for later. You know how much he loves coming down for s’mores.”

We did them last night at sunset, but Faelynn was only interested in throwing the marshmallows.

Adelaide nods, and Kingston walks up behind her, dressed in a linen shirt and navy shorts. He puts his arm around her waist, drawing her against him, and takes the octopus from her hand. “No bubbles?”

“Not until later.” She glances up at him, and he kisses her nose. Her eyes find Emery again. “I’ll have the staff clean up everything and set the bubbles aside for tonight.”

“Thank you. Love you.” Emery walks toward the hotel, with Lachlan and Leith at her side.

“Do you need anything?” Adelaide asks me.