When a Tigon Weds (A Lion's Pride Book 9) by Eve Langlais

Author:Eve Langlais [Langlais, Eve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York Times Bestselling Author
Published: 2020-05-04T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

What a beautiful day. The sun was shining, warming Dean’s bare chest as he relaxed atop the Pride condominium. He’d removed his shirt and wore only his khakis and some sunglasses. No shoes. No weapons.

He didn’t need any, not when his wife was tough enough for the two of them on her own. And he expected her to arrive any second now…

“Neville Horatio Fitzpatrick!” She bellowed his name as she spilled out of the elevator onto the rooftop.

It drew more than one lazy gaze—and twitched more than one tail. Drew a snicker too as someone taunted, “Neville, wasn’t that the name of Garfield’s dumb nemesis?”

“That was Nermal,” explained Jodi.

“Then who’s Neville?” asked Stacey.

Rather than reply, Dean remained lying in the sun, enjoying the heated rays from behind his shades until someone blocked the light.

“You bloody idiot!”

He remained prone with his lids shuttered.

She whacked him with a rolled-up sheaf of papers. “Don’t you ignore me.”

He cracked an eye to see the storm. “Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you so soon. Did you miss me?”

“Are you a moron?”

“Not according to the intelligence tests they made me take.”

“You said you were going to sign.” She waved the papers.

“I signed.”

“Not your name!” she snapped.

“Yeah, well, as nice as the offer was, I couldn’t accept it.”

“You’re the one who suggested it.”

“No, you asked me for a price. I gave one that seemed reasonable. However, that didn’t mean I had any interest then or now in divorce.”

“Asshole!”

He pushed up his glasses and gave her a lazy grin. “Baby, really, is that any way to talk to your husband?”

Any twitching by the watching ladies, ceased. You could have heard a hair drop, it got so quiet.

Until someone shout-whispered, “Did he just say they’re married?”

To her credit, Natasha—and her big brass balls—didn’t budge at all when over half a dozen golden gazes veered her way, some of them kind of menacing. It was impressive that she’d even made it to the rooftop. How had she run the biatch welcome committee gauntlet? Hopefully, someone had video footage.

Natasha tossed back her dark hair as if defying them. “Don’t get involved,” was her warning. “This is between me and this mangy cur.”

“I’ll have you know my fur is quite luxurious. Did you know Arik’s wife has transformed one of the first-floor condos into a salon? She gives the best scalp treatments.” A remark that met with more than one murmur of agreement.

“Stop being deliberately obtuse. You agreed to the divorce. You got everything you wanted.”

He sat up and replied, more tersely than warranted, “What I want is to be married. To you, I should add, in case that’s not clear.” It got easier to declare.

“But I’m engaged to someone else!” Her temper flared, and she stamped her foot, but it was her words that drew the “ooh” from the watchers, and one exclaimed, “Quick, someone order some popcorn from the kitchen!”

“Better call it off because bigamy is still a crime in this state.”

“This is blackmail. I don’t want to be married to you.

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