The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(101)

"May I have some more?"

I bring my attention back to her.

"The food." She glances at the container. "Some more, please?"

Of course. I scoop up more of the succulent fish and offer it to her. She wipes the tines of the fork clean, then cuts up a piece and holds it out for me. I pull up a chair and allow her to feed me. She watches my mouth, her green eyes flaring. "It’s good, isn’t it?" she murmurs.

"Excellent," I agree.

She cuts up another piece of the fish and holds it out. This time I wrap my fingers around her wrist and bring the fork to my mouth. I lick the food off the tines of the fork, taking my time. Her breath hitches. The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up. There will never be a time when we don’t feel this chemistry between us, so what are we doing apart?

"Come home with me." I slide the fork out of her hand and bring her fingers to my lips and kiss the tips. "I miss you. Tiny misses you. We can’t do without you."

She swallows, and when she tugs, I release her hand. She brings her fingers to her mouth and licks the same digits I had. She closes her eyes, savoring the taste, then turns to snatch up one of the paper-napkins. "I can’t, Sir."





60





Penny





"There. Looking good, Ma." I finish braiding her hair, then slide off the bed and hold up a mirror in front of her. My mother glances down at her reflection and a small smile curves her lips.

"The color suits you." I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat.

Her smile widens.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Today is one of the good days. My mother replied when I asked her how her day had been. I place the mirror on the side table, then sit down in front of her.

"I miss you, Ma. I miss being home with you and Dad. I miss your attempts at trying to teach me the piano." I half laugh. "If only I had a talent, I wouldn’t be bouncing around, dependent on someone else to keep you in this place. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you, Mother, I—"

"You did good, Penny girl."

I stare. Wow, she sounds so much like her former self. Even her eyes are clear today. She takes my hand in hers. "You bring light to whoever you meet. That’s your talent, honey."

The tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes. I sniff. To not only have her sounding coherent, but to also give me the sweetest of compliments— oh, god, I don’t think my heart can keep up. I bring our joined-up hands to my mouth, then kiss the back of her hers.

"I’m sorry you couldn’t come to the wedding, Ma. I wish you could meet him—"

"I did."

"He’s not all bad. Though his attitude is so grumpy you’d think he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Wait,"—I blink—"what did you say?"

"I met him."

"Who’re you talking about?"

"Midnight."

"Who?"

"That’s my name." A familiar voice interjects.

I turn to the doorway to find Knight standing there.

"Your real name is Midnight?"

He half smiles.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Why didn’t you ask?"

We look at each other, and as always, the air in the room seems to light up with so many unsaid emotions, and that insane chemistry that has my nipples beading, despite the fact I’m sitting in front of my mother.

I’ve barely seen him since that lunch that I cut short, running out for fear I'd let him fuck me again in his office. It's only in retrospect, I realize he didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t use that Dom voice of his to command me. He honored my choice, respected my will, and that’s so different from the man I’ve come to know.

To be honest, a part of me would have been relieved if he’d ordered me to stay. Better still, if he’d commanded me to bend over that table where our lunch was served, I’d have gladly done so. It's so much easier when he tries—who am I kidding? There is no "try" with this man—to make me bend to his will. I can always blame him for influencing me to give into him and then I don't have to accept responsibility. But now that he's letting me drive our interactions, I'm floundering. It confuses me so much, it's been easier to avoid him as much as possible. In fact, I haven’t seen him in three days.

Now, I drink in the sight of my man in that jacket that clings to the breadth of his shoulders. He prowls forward, and I admire how those tailor-made pants outline the musculature of his thighs.

"He’s handsome huh?" My ma whispers.

I nod, then swing my head around to look at her in surprise.

"What?" She giggles at the expression on my face. "I might be senile, but I’m not blind."

"You’re not senile." I frown.

Her features soften. "I’m glad I got to see you settled before I go."

"Mom, please, you’re not going anywhere."

"Unless you want to go to the park?" he asks as he comes to a stop next to the bed.

"The park?" Her features light up. "Are we going on that picnic you promised?"





"You promised to take her on a picnic?"