Page 35 of Accepted Precedent (Love & Politics #3)

Evelyn

M ickey and I have been careless—no birth control is one hundred percent effective.

I’m the statistical outlier, possibly pregnant with his child.

Considering how much sex we have, I should get a tubal ligation to ensure this doesn’t happen again.

All the while, I’m legally married to another man.

Not to mention the father of my maybe-child is the most powerful man in Washington.

With one snap of his fingers, he could take this hypothetical child from me.

How the fuck did I get here?

Mick has dreams of coming home after a long day to people who will love him unconditionally.

That isn’t in the cards for us, and won’t be for years.

I trust Mickey, but I’d never want to raise his child as Andrew’s.

While I love both of them with my entire being, we are stuck in a fucked-up love triangle worse than Jaclyn’s.

Though perhaps her situation is actually worse—she has to choose between her legal husband and the man she married in front of God.

With Kristin in the mix, is this a love square?

Love knot? I don’t know what the hell it is, but this isn’t what I signed up for when I married Andrew. A couple of years isn’t five or ten.

Mistakes were made, and I intend to rectify them. I’m tired of being a dutiful wife to a man who doesn’t love me.

But would I be enough for a puppet master of the largest economy in the world?

Orgasms won’t solve our problems. Mick is likely going on some sort of vengeance rampage over the hitman debacle, and the last thing anyone wants is the man who just found out another may raise his child full of jealous rage.

He needed the connection—we both did—but now I’m exhausted after the adrenaline crash of the past twenty-four hours and placating my mob baby-daddy who made me come three times.

I should take him up on his suggestion to sleep in, but I’m restless.

Even after Mickey cleaned me up, I still feel him seeping out of me.

I throw on my period panties, just in case—they could be pointless for the next year.

I smile to myself as I send a quick text to Mick, letting him know I can still feel him.

In a few hours, I’ll be “punished” for turning him on when he’s trying to work. I smile at the thought.

Checking in on Andrew, Kristin isn’t in bed with him. I didn’t hear her leave, but there’s a chance she stepped out when Mickey did. I make my way back to the other room and burrow myself under the covers that still smell like Mick.

I’m nearly asleep when I feel the mattress dip. “Hey, that was fast.” Pulled against a firm chest, I gasp as realization washes over me. “Andy! You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry. After last night, I just need…”

I turn in his arms. “It’ll look really bad if anyone walks in on us.”

“You’re supposed to be my wife, remember?” Andrew chuckles, holding me tightly and kissing the top of my head. “Also, I don’t fucking care. I need my best friend.”

“Me too,” I sigh, melting into him. “Okay, but only until my alarm goes off.”

“Deal.”

We doze off, and I’m unsure how long I’m asleep for when someone taps me awake. I groan, but then a soft, feminine voice demands, “Wake up, Evie.”

“It’s too early, Aisling,” I grumble.

“Five more minutes,” Andy murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around me.

“We don’t have time for this. Both of you get up, or it’ll be my ass on the line.”

“Kristin?” My eyes widen. “Fuck! I’m sorry. What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” she replies with a huff. “Ileah will be staying with you tomorrow, so I need to know which room you want for me to prepare for her.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I scramble out of Andrew’s hold. “I’m up. What’s going on with Ileah?”

“Mr. Gallagher said?—”

“He already told you to call him Mickey,” Andrew groans, stretching his arms over his head. “Shit, what time did you say it is?”

“Noon. I packed your things from the other room and they’re already downstairs. I also extended your check-out time, but you only have an hour to shower and change. I need to let Mr. Gallagher— Mickey’s —team know which room you’d like me to prepare for Ms. Vasileiou’s arrival.”

“You mean Mrs. McKinnon,” Andy corrects.

“No,” she counters, all business, as if last night never happened. “She’s a widow now.”

“What?” I shriek. “What do you mean a widow?”

“Mickey will brief you on everything that happened last night once you’re home.”

“Shit. Tim is… dead? Of course she can stay with us, as long as she needs. Any of the guest bedrooms should be fine,” I finally answer.

As quickly as she came in, she’s gone, leaving Andrew and me with more questions than answers. We rush to get dressed and pack up all of Mickey’s luggage—a shower can wait until we get home.

Making our way downstairs, Kristin is waiting for us in the lobby. She’s typing on her phone and glances up as we approach. “Hey. I’m sorry if I was short with you earlier. It’s been”—she sighs out a long breath—“a morning.”

“It’s okay.” I wrap her in a tight hug. “Between last night and everything going on with Ileah, I’m sure Mickey is keeping you busy.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

I release her, and with arms linked we walk outside to a large SUV. I glance behind me to Andrew toting Mickey’s luggage, and there’s so much longing in his gaze. He’s absolutely in love with my sister. I wish so much was different—for all of us.

Guilt overcomes me. We’re stuck in this charade for at least a year or two—maybe more—trapping him with a child he won’t want but will need to claim is his.

It will kill Mickey to see the man he loves raising his child, and Andrew will likely resent me.

Maybe I should consider terminating my pregnancy after all.

Once we get home, I’ll need to sit down with him and Mick to figure out what to do.

The silence is deafening on the way home. There is so much to say, but the weight of it is heavy. We pull up to the house, where five black SUVs with tinted windows are parked. Kristin takes my hand, squeezing it once before letting go.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to her.

“Please don’t hate me. You now have around-the-clock security, a full-time house manager, a chef, a housekeeper, access to a medical team on stand-by—including an OBGYN—and a personal driver.”

“I think the fuck not.” I don’t wait for anyone to open my door, flinging it open with a huff and slamming it behind me.

Storming into the house, I shout, “You’re taking this daddy thing too far, Mick!

” I continue farther inside and find Mickey in the kitchen, sipping whiskey. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He lifts his glass. “Celebrating.”

“Celebrating what exactly?” I kick off my shoes, not caring that he’ll tower over me if I get any closer. “Making me a prisoner in my own home?”

His brows pinch. “No, I’m celebrating us having a child.”

“I don’t even know if we’re pregnant for sure!”

“About that.” He slides a bag across the counter and watches me intently as I open it.

“Even if you aren’t, you will be one day, and you’ll need a full staff to help and ensure your safety.

” I pull out a pregnancy test and two small teal boxes wrapped in white ribbon.

“Don’t open the boxes until you take the test. The one you open depends on the result. ”

“There you are,” Andrew laughs as he enters the kitchen. “Kristin said we have a full staff now?”

“Aye, you do,” he muses as I insist, “No, we don’t.”

“Which is it?”

“You do,” Kristin chimes in. “Mr. Gallagher insisted I arrange it, even after I explained it would piss off my sister.”

“And she’s right,” I grumble. “I don’t need a cook or a driver, and I certainly don’t need security.”

“Take the test, angel,” Mickey says into his glass, and the man is fucking smirking.

“What test?” Andy asks, brows furrowed.

“If I take the test, will you fire everyone?”

“No.”

“Come on, Mick. Be reasonable. We don’t need that many people working here.” Andrew sighs, examining the boxes. “You’re pregnant?”

“Take the test,” he repeats, pushing it closer. “What happens next depends on if there’s a little plus sign or not.”

“You’re pregnant?” Andy repeats, a little more forcefully.

“It’s a digital test—no plus sign,” I deadpan, hating all of this.

I’m not even sure what I want to do about the pregnancy since we haven’t had time to talk about it.

I knew Mick would be overprotective, but I don’t need anyone running my household for me; it would be stifling. “What happens if I’m not pregnant?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s negative.”

“You’re impossible.” I snatch up the box of tests and march down the hall to the small bathroom. Kristin is hot on my heels, and once we are out of earshot, I whisper-shout, “This is bullshit.”

“I know, Evie. I’m sorry.” She follows me into the bathroom and I close the door behind us. “Okay, we don’t have much time. I have to tell you what I found out today: Finn is responsible for Tim’s death.”

“What?” I slap my hand over my mouth, then lower my voice. “How? What happened?”

“What part of ‘we don’t have much time’ didn’t you get? Pee on the stick while I explain.”

I strip my pants down to my ankles and sit on the toilet, then unwrap one of the tests. “Okay, happy? I know Finn loves Ileah, but why did he have to kill Tim? What happened?”

“You just answered your own question. Finn’s been unreachable all day, and Ileah’s room has already been scrubbed by Ned. He won’t tell us anything since Ileah is his client, but I think Finn did it to be with her himself.”

I quickly pee on the test and cap it, then shimmy my pants back up and wash my hands.

As much as I love Mickey, the Gallaghers are dangerous men, and I’ve become too comfortable in their world. Would they kill Andrew if we remain married? Could Kristin disappear without a trace? I’m not sure I want to risk it.

“What do we?—”