Possessive Royal (Duke of Tudor #2) Read Online Amarie Avant

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
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I. Did. Not.

An hour later, I pick myself up off the floor. I’d just taken a pregnancy test that I had sworn Burt to secrecy to purchase. Damn, I would rather it have been Alba. But she and Graham know when to make themselves scarce.

I haven’t been in England for more than two months. For all I know, it could’ve been our first time back together in New York.

Definitely missed more than two friggen pills, Luxxie. Between working at the soup kitchen, putting Urban Gardens on the market, researching colleges in Florida . . . I fucked up.

We’ve finally caught our stride. I’ve learned about Victor’s relationship with his wife. I could feel the pain he felt over her death. I know that he loves me with a different part of himself than he has for his love of Emeli. He’s yet to mention Jude.

Groggy, I put on a pajama set and return to bed. I shoot Aliyah a quick message about the pregnancy. She’s more likely to answer my call if I reach out before noon, her time. I cuddle with Victor’s pillow and allow his scent to soothe my soul as my eyes close. Maybe I’ll dream of the right words to explain that I’m pregnant.

He lost a son. Does he even want another child?

The neon light from the digital clock beside the bed reads 12:23 p.m. I restlessly roll out of Victor’s embrace as he sleeps. I slide off the bed, needing a glass of water.

On my way downstairs, I flick on the hall light. The sounds of footsteps draw near. I didn’t see Graham or Alba at the party tonight. I doubt any of the guests stayed.

“Burt?” I call out since his room is on the first floor. “Dammit, Sarah, you better not have found the champag—”

My eyes widen. Madeline stands at the front door. She’s not alone. Her companion’s built like a professional athlete in black jeans and a black ropy knitted sweater with a hoodie covering his head. His only visible features are those devilish eyes, brown skin, and a shiny, thick black goatee. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t recall who. As I try to remember, he reaches out, and his leather-clad hand takes my forearm, causing goosebumps to take shape.

“Come with me, Luxury Whitson,” His thick Middle Eastern accent wraps around me.

“Miss Luxury, look at you,” Madeline taunts. With a smile, she glances at the silencer on the gun pointed in my direction. “Scream, and I’ll make sure he blows your bloody head off before Victor comes downstairs. Actually, scream.”

Shoving away from his touch, I curse, “Fuck you!”

“I’ll forgive your choice words, but I don’t think Vic is coming to the rescue. That old cunt, Sarah, went home with a commoner tonight. The Dowager is all peace, love, and screwing anybody regardless of color. Anyhow, Victor and Burt are having an excellent slumber tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrow to imply that they’ve been drugged.

“Aren’t you a commoner?” My brows lift.

“No, I’m a duchess!”

“Hold out your hands, please,” the man orders.

As Madeline takes a zip-tie from her purse, my hand darts toward her nose. The Middle Easterner catches my fist in his palm.

“Do not struggle.” He locks the ties around my wrists. I grimace as it bites into my flesh.

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, I then draw up my knee.

Friggen almost got him.

The man lifts his leg at the last second, and my shin crunches against his.

With a triumphant rise in her shoulders, Madeline stalks to the front door, opening it.

“You look shocked to see me,” Madeline sneers, her gaze glued all over me as the man escorts me outside. “Allow me to enlighten you.” She follows us out, closing the door behind us. “This man was searching for the one that Victor loves. At first, he came for me. Understandable, right? Since I was Victor’s fiancée. That’s why I was at that awful restaurant and suffered through dinner with you.”

“Stop this, Maddy.” I almost fall as we walk in the darkness toward the street. “You love Victor. You patched him up when—”

“Move it, cunt.” Madeline kicks me in the back. “Someone has to pay for Victor’s sins.”

My teeth grind over the pain. She opens the passenger door of a BMW sports car. As the man shoves me inside, Maddy leans down. She sneers, “You thought you won, Luxury. You haven't won.”

“Won?” I mumble, “How have I won? You can't win love,” I say.

I search Madeline’s face. I know she still loves Victor. It may sound insane, but my eyes latch onto Madeline’s, seeking out the woman who mended Victor’s wounds while young. As the stranger rounds the car to get inside, my shaky voice dips low. “Maddy, I’m pregnant. I’m having your friend’s child—”

“Shut your mouth,” Madeline snaps. Her hand smacks me across the face, leaving the vision of her clouded. “You’re lying, but it doesn’t matter. You and that little bastard in your belly are going bye-bye. Victor told everyone that he loved you tonight. The Queen’s appalled. Well, that lack of judgment on Victor’s part is going to get fixed as surely as the seed in your belly will.”



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