CHAPTER NINTY-EIGHT

The living room is as breathtakingly beautiful as the rest of the house, all plush fabrics and gleaming surfaces that speak of wealth and taste. I make my way to the nearest couch, ready to sink into its inviting cushions, but before I can even sit down, Nickolas sweeps me up into his arms and deposits me on his lap.

“Whenever we’re together, this is where you sit,” he murmurs, adjusting me on his thighs, his arm wrapping securely around my waist, his hand splaying possessively over my belly.

A soft smile tugs at my lips, warmth blooming in my chest at his casual display of affection. If someone had told me even a few short months ago that Nickolas would be this clingy, this openly demonstrative with his love, I would have laughed in their face. But now, feeling the solid strength of his body beneath me, the tender way he holds me close, I can’t imagine anything feeling more right.

“Let’s hear it,” Eric prompts, settling into the armchair across from us, his eyes alight with curiosity