Page 101 of Scarred Crown

We finish the cleanup in silence and then shake Gus’s hand before following our security out the front door.

“I can’t imagine feeling such despair that ending a life is the right choice—especially the life of a family member,” Brice says once we’re in the back of the car. “Makes me want to save them all. If only we could.”

“Luckily,” I say, “Bahati didn’t follow the mother-in-law’s advice, and Julia’s bleeding heart led us right to them.”

“When do they arrive?”

“Next week. Kafil, my guide from Tanzania, is coming to act as a translator. Seemed the easiest way to make sure everyone felt comfortable and safe.” Julia suggested Kafil when we were struggling to find a proficient translator on the island. What was one more plane ticket?

“Maybe you should expand your Bellerive foundation there to encompass some of these surgeries with long wait lists.”

“The idea has crossed my mind. I was going to ask Jules if she wanted to help run it.”

Brice chuckles. “Why not? She’s already an integral member. Considering the idea was originally hers, I can’t imagine she’d turn the opportunity down.”

“I’m not entirely sure how attached she is to the secretary position.” In Tanzania, she implied she fell into the job and never left. But watching her organize and plan the coronation has made me appreciate how good she is. Just because she didn’t intend to do the job forever doesn’t mean she isn’t invested in the work.

“Yet another thing to figure out,” Brice teases.

The list does seem substantial and never-ending at the moment. Why wouldn’t it? Julia and I have only been back in each other’s lives for a few weeks. We went from barely speaking to married. Bound to be some adjustments. Nothing to worry about.

“We’ll be fine,” I say. “As long as we’re honest with each other, we’ll be fine.”

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Julia is doing what she does best—directing the chaos. Movers are streaming in with suitcases of her clothes, personal items, and a few pieces of furniture. Most of what she owns is going into one of the royal storage facilities until we decide whether we’re staying here or inhabiting one of the vacant houses on the estate. My vote is for a fresh start on the property after a quick reno. Julia has been more reluctant to commit, and I’m trying not to let her lack of enthusiasm bother me.

She agreed to stay married to me, and she can’t keep her hands off me when we’re alone. I can’t expect everything to fall into place with a snap of my fingers.

Although I always thought I was the only one hurt the night of my father’s birthday, I’ve realized we both bear those scars. Fighting my attraction and trying to snuff out my love for Julia burned us both. Our fire blazed too hot to be contained.

So many stupid mistakes.

I’m not making any more. So if she needs time to adjust to this whirlwind we’ve spun ourselves into, I’m not going to let uncertainty get a foothold in me. She said what she once felt for me can be recovered. Stay the course. I know what I want, and right now I’ve got it. Don’t fuck up. Simple.

“Is it all too much?” Jules comes to stand beside me. She crosses her arms and bites her lip as more suitcases flow into the walk-in closet. Her silky shirt, which is begging for me to touch it, is distracting. What’s underneath her pencil skirt? I’m torn between hoping for commando and realizing my mental health is in trouble if she’s not wearing anything.

As for her stuff, she could literally back the moving truck up here and dump it all. I wouldn’t blink an eye as long as there was a surface to perch her ass on or bend her over while I find way number five to make her come so hard and fast she takes God’s name in vain. Just the thought makes me hard.

“No, I don’t see a problem,” I say with a hint of a smile as I peruse her from head to toe. Definitely panties. She’s been working.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” She smacks me in the chest.

“How do you know it’s in the gutter?” I eye her with amusement.

She slides in front of me and pretends to observe the movers while her other hand reaches around her back to stroke me through my jeans.

She’s swept her hair into a ponytail at some point today, and her neck is exposed. Licking my way up might be a tad obvious with an audience. She’s likely to squeal. Instead, I lean down and scrape my teeth along her earlobe. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

The soft sigh she releases is barely audible, but I know exactly what’s going on underneath her clothes. Pert nipples. Dampness between her thighs.

When she turns in my arms, and I see the heat in her gaze, I could care less about movers or furniture or any of her things. Naked. She needs to be naked. I’m going to help her climb a mountain and then observe, fascinated, as she topples over it. Watching Jules come is my favorite pastime.

I nuzzle her nose with mine and hover my lips a hair’s breadth from hers. When she tries to tug me into a kiss, I sidestep her.

“Tease,” she mutters.

“Thank you very much, gentlemen,” I say, striding toward the movers. “Shouldn’t be too much more. You can leave the rest in the hallway. My wife and I will bring it in later.”