Page 144

Exhaling, I stared at the wall in front of me, my concentration shit as of late. Business was booming, including the various legitimate ones I’d insisted on. I had contracts in place, newclients and even the bad guys were coming around to my way of thinking.

While I was still putting the pieces together, running the new corporation aptly named Morales-Torres Enterprises, thank you very much, it seemed to take all my time.

And effort.

I was exhausted lately, barely able to keep my eyes open at night. Five grueling weeks had passed since the last chapter of a horrible novella had embroiled my life. But I was a strong girl. Look what I’d lived through.

Since then, the peace and quiet had been almost… boring.

Not that I should be bored with a man like Jago. He was still always on edge, treating me as if he left me alone for too long, I’d vanish.

Poof.

Was he suddenly having memory problems? Did he not remember I’d defended myself pretty damn well after three attacks and a wild adventure at sea? Or maybe it was four attacks. The entire two weeks had run together into one huge blur.

That only eating donuts solved.

I laughed and glared at the computer screen, noticing the time. Oops. I’d promised to attempt to make dinner tonight, which meant leaving early. Like a real person. Like we were a normal little family.

Right.

I’d likely burn the dish I had planned, but what the heck? It was better than going out to all those fabulous restaurants, right?

When I stood, Emiliano finally glanced over at me. He’d arrived with my driver to take me home.

“Ready to babysit me some more?” I asked, almost angrily.

He stood, looking entirely too uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing. He wasn’t a suit kind of man, but when the protocol called for it, he’d don one. Grunting, he made his way toward me. “I’m not babysitting you, Madame Torres. I’m keeping you safe. And keeping my nuts intact.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, then rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes. Jago threatened to feed them to you if you fucked up. Right?”

The big man looked away red-faced. He was embarrassed that my husband had snarled at him. I almost laughed but pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from it. “So, I thought you were going to bug Rodolpho for kicks and giggles this afternoon instead of hanging around my office like a boat anchor.”

“You do realize that man must be a serial killer. Right?”

I snorted when I laughed and bent over to snag my purse from my desk drawer.

Suddenly, a violent urge came over me and it had nothing to do with donuts.

Or maybe that’s the exact reason.

With my hand firmly cupping my mouth, I rushed toward my private bathroom, barely making it inside and on my knees before praying to the porcelain gods.

I’d eaten way too many donuts the night before and this morning. My infamous six to be exact.

I’d barely left any for Marco, and he’d complained.

Bella had snatched one from my hand and I’d almost tackled her to the floor.

I guess I should be thankful they were both thriving after the horrible ordeals we’d been through. Plural. Capitalized. The kinds that should forever haunt me.

The type only donuts could cure.

So there.

My blame of Krispy Kreme donuts was justified, including eating so many I’d gotten sick.

Moaning, I flushed the toilet and crawled toward the bathroom sink, finally managing to stand after two tries. My reflection startled me. I looked like shit.