‘Sir.’ His hand squeezed my shoulder. ‘You’re not my fucking dog, you’re my fucking private. I’ll call you any goddamned thing I want to. ...irl.’ Taking him completely by surprise, I rolled him over on his back, straddling his hips, my hands planted on his chest. He stared up at me in a mixture of shock and anger. ‘I’m not a dog. Don’t treat me like one. Save your good girls and your petting for you snotty girlfriends,’ I sneered. ‘Sir.’ ‘I own you, private. Or did you already forget?’ he. Terrence was sitting between Diana and Ingrid and cuddling a child in his arms. I thought it was probably his daughter Dana as Diana's sling was empty. Even Tyson, who I know intimidated Alexis, was all smiles as he showed Cleo's son, Lamont, how to hold his half-sister. Cleo looked more than a little distressed at the idea of a five-year-old boy handling her newborn, but Tyson never really let go.I had finished my scan and returned to watch the racing game as Heidi apparently won a round and. More

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