Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Blame it on the Alcohol Series by Fiona Cole
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
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“I’m done with this shit. You’re coming home.” With that declaration, he squatted low enough to wrap his arms around the back of my legs and tossed me over his shoulder.

I let out a feral screech and pounded against his hard back. “Goddamnit, Nico. Put me the fuck down.”

“No,” he answered calmly, throwing my word back in my face.

“Raelynn,” I shouted, trying to support myself enough to look around for my friend.

She stormed over, and I had faith that even in her red stiletto’s, she’d stop this man from taking me. She shoved a matching red nail into his chest.

“We said this weekend.”

“You never told me about a fucking divorce. It kind of moved things up.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I screeched.

Raelynn flicked her eyes to mine before returning her glare to Nico. “If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you. And not in a funny—ha-ha—way. I will legit utilize every crime show I’ve watched, and I’ll get away with it too.”

“I would never hurt her,” he promised.

He sounded so sincere, and it had rage burning its way through my chest. “You’re hurting me now,” I shouted, choking on the words. Seeing him—having his hands on me—for the first time was too much, and no matter how much I tried to escape him, I couldn’t.

What if I never could—even when he wasn’t there.

“I want messages every few hours,” Raelynn stated.

Then, she went to the door and did the last thing I ever expected. She held the door open for him.

“Raelynn, please,” I begged. “Please don’t let him take me. I ca—I can’t do this. Please.”

Her face crumbled under my pain and fear of being alone with him. Not because he’d hurt me physically but because of what he’d do to my heart. I barely survived without facing him—how could I do it with him right in front of me. I was so scared I’d forgive all his lies and turn a blind eye when he did it again. I was scared of everything when it came to this man.

“You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for you,” she said, her voice cracking over the last words. My body shook against his broad shoulder when he took the first step down. Raelynn’s eyes never left mine, even when she spoke to Nico.

“Remember, Nico. I’ll kill you.”

“Noted.”

Thirty-Seven

Nico

Vera scowled out the window the entire ride home. Everything about her body turned away, arms crossed, and clenched jaw screamed that she didn’t want to be here.

But I still caught the quick glances my way like she was just as desperate to look at me as I was to look at her. We’d barely been together, yet I took my first full deep breath when I saw her standing there wide-eyed in the middle of the living room.

It’d been a breath full of fire, but a breath that stretched my lungs past the crippling pressure that’d weighed on them since the lobby.

“Will you walk upstairs, or am I carrying you?” I asked once we parked.

“Fuck you, Nicholas.”

I watched her fumble with the door handle before stumbling out in her high-heeled boots. Her words should have added fuel to the fire, but I was too happy to hear her say my name again that I didn’t care.

Besides, I deserved her ire. I deserved it all.

If she was going to leave me, it was damn well going to be after she heard me out.

We walked up to our top floor apartment, and she slammed the door in my face, shaking the frame. I expected to hear the lock next, but the doorknob turned when I tried it. I pushed open the door in time to watch her brown hair fly behind her as she rounded the corner.

Watching her run from me in our own home had me slamming the door, similar to how she did. Two could play this game of petulance.

“Verana Rush,” I bellowed. “Get back here right now.”

She appeared around the corner like a bull ready to charge. “I am not a child for you to order around.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Why?” I asked, stalking toward her into the living room. “It’s your name. Because you’re my wife.”

“I am not your wife.”

“Oh, I have the license and a contract that says otherwise. For five more years. A legally binding one at that.”

Her ire grew, and I waited for the smoke to start pouring out of her ears.

Her nostrils flared over her heavy breaths, jaw clenched just as tight as her fists, and her eyes doing their best to incinerate me.

“I hate you,” she hissed.

I flinched, the words a slap to the face. A reminder of all I’d done to deserve her anger and hitting right on the nerves of fear that I’d never get her back to the woman who promised me dinner by the fire in our home.


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