Free Pretty Perfect Toy -- A Temptation Court Novel (Temptation Court, Book 2) by Angel Payne

newsletters, and social notices of the American upper crust are unique journals, chronicling day-long spa visits, tiny-sized food, and “casual parties” that took weeks to plan and thousands to fund. Events like engagements approach the status of national holiday celebrations. The wedding plans of someone like Lily Quinn would have boosted the family’s social and financial clout—
    Unless those plans had to be made in a hurry.
    “Creator’s toes.” The spot blares to clarity. “She—Lily—she was—”
    “Pregnant.” Now the explanation flows from him without effort, even murmured like a prayer. But is it a prayer of gratitude or shame? The dazed cast of his gaze does not supply any definition. “With my baby.”
    I pull in a breath. Am not shocked that the air shakes in my chest. Imagining him as a father-to-be is the easiest—and hardest—thing in the world. Watching his protective ways with Prim and Mallory makes it simple to envision him doing the same with his own child—but in my mind’s eye, that child has no other mother than me. The force of the fantasy weakens my knees. “So Nash made you marry her.”
    “Nash didn’t make me do shit.” His nostrils flare and his lips thin. “She told me the day after Christmas, during a trip back here to see her parents. The day after that , we hit the jewelry store then the courthouse. Her stepmother was understandably horrified, but Nash yanked the curtain on our masquerade pretty fast.”
    “And then what?”
    “And then he couldn’t wait to welcome me into the family.”
    “And were you happy too?”
    “I was delirious.” He issues it as if confessing to murder—likely reading the little “Baby Daddy Cassian” scenario that burns across my face by now, and knowing the words will be its ice bath. But he has not brought me up here for an evening of wine and roses. For two months, I have not been allowed into this turret for a reason—and I have held no illusions it would be a pleasant one to hear. “In my mind, the bubble had just received steel plating,” he explains further. “I was on top of my professional game, now running the European division of Quantumm for Nash. Lily and I started looking for a home. We had a child on the way. Life was damn good.”
    “But even steel plates can be blown back.” It is the logical response, as my gaze follows his back over to the destroyed window pane. When he descends into his unnatural stillness once more, I prod, “ Cassian . What happened?”
    His head angles to one side. The light catches the whisky tint in his hair as it teases at his forehead, though cannot illuminate the new darkness in his eyes. In an instant, he is not here with me anymore. Distant memories claim him…as well as their ruthless stamp of grief. “Not what happened,” he grates. “It’s what didn’t happen.” His eyes slide closed. “The person who should’ve been most thrilled about the baby…wasn’t.”
    The obvious answer makes no sense—but is finally the one I blurt. “Lily?”
    His silence serves as confirmation. I cut into it with a gasp.
    “But…she loved you in return, right? Why would she not be thrilled to—”
    His bite of laughter is a shocking interruption. “Why the hell wasn’t Lily thrilled about anything in her life?”
    I cease fighting the liquid in my legs. Slump back to the chaise, mind spinning, working to fill in his spotty portrait of the woman who captivated him…who carried his child. But the image keeps popping back like a Picasso, cubes of images in places they do not belong.
    “Now I really do not understand.”
    “Of course you don’t.”
    His reiteration is much different than the first time. It accepts my truth, only this time with sadness instead of fight.
    “Why did she not welcome the child?” I ask it after a long pause, sensing we both need a mental walk in the midst of this emotional run. Or perhaps sensing the climb we have ahead.
    Cassian drops his head. Drags it