The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(102)

"I wouldn’t have done it without running it by you first," he says as he turns to me. "I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve been coming to see her for a few weeks now. I wanted to come here with you right after lunch on the day we got married, but I’m afraid I lost my composure that day."

"Is that an apology I hear?" I say lightly without looking at him. Partly because the sight of my mother walking ahead holding Tiny’s leash is something I’ll remember forever. She’s dressed in her favorite green dress, and the lines of her body are relaxed.

We had a picnic lunch earlier on Primrose Hill. The lunch was delivered to us courtesy of—you guessed it, James Hamilton’s kitchen, complete with wine glasses and crockery. Also, as soon as we were done, someone came by to pick up the remnants. Don’t ask me how he arranged for that. Guess the rich don’t do anything by half, huh? But I don’t begrudge Knight his money anymore. How can I when he’s used it to make my mum happy. I’ve never seen her so in her element. Not since before my father died. A ball of emotion fills my throat and I swallow around it.

"I’m sorry I ran out on you at our wedding lunch." He slows to a halt. So do I.

I can’t look at him, though. Not with the waterworks threatening to spill over. This is what happens when I’m on my period. I get overly-sensitive to everything. I stiffen. "There’s something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

His voice is so gentle, so unlike Knight, and yet also, so like the Knight he is underneath that alphahole exterior he loves to show the world. It only makes my heart beat faster. My palms grow clammy, and I lock my fingers around my handbag.

"You can tell me anything, Little Dove." He clasps his big warm fingers around my colder ones, and his touch is gentle and arousing. My toes curl, my scalp tingles, and my heart drops down to my feet, then bounces up to tangle in my throat.

"Sir, Knight… I—" I swallow. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. "Knight, I—"

He cups my cheek. "Tell me, baby."

A-n-d, that endearment is enough for a tear to spill over.

He pales. I kid you not, the color fades from his cheeks. He bends his knees and peers into my eyes. "You’re scaring me, honey, and that’s the only reason I’m going to order you to tell me what’s on your mind." His voice lowers to that remembered beloved hush. "Right. Now." Before he completes the sentences, the words burst out of me, "I’m not pregnant.”





61





Knight





"You’re not pregnant?"

She shakes her head. "I got my period yesterday, and I was so upset. But I was also relieved. I’m not ready to be a mother, yet, you know? Not until I’ve lived life a little, and traveled, and crossed some items off my bucket list. Paris, for sure. It’s only two hours from here by Eurostar, and I’ve never been. Can you imagine? And I haven’t swum with dolphins or seen the Northern Lights or climbed Uluru. Of course, there are a few things I know you’re going to help me tick off, like having five orgasms in one night, I mean you’re the master of orgasms, so I know this is bound to happen at some point. And then, you said we’d have anal—" She squeezes her eyes shut. "Did I say anal aloud in the park? Ignore that." She draws in a breath. "Not that I should be embarrassed to say that aloud, and I know we haven't done it yet, but you should know, I’ve been practicing with a plug in my bum like in the fanfic stories and, aargh—" She slaps her forehead. "Now I said bum. How could I say bum?" She buries her forehead against my chest. "Can we start again? I’m nervous—"

"Penny, it’s okay."

"—no, you don’t understand. I’m really nervous. I wanted to tell you. I should have told you yesterday. But I had a good cry, and Mira was there to console me, and then we ate ice-cream together and watched a chick flick, although I really did want to call you and talk to you instead—"

"You should have."

"—but I was worried you’d be upset. I know how much this means to you and—"

"Penny, you’re more important."

"—now, your dad’s going to be upset and—"

"Fuck my dad."

"Did you say F your dad?" she asks in a small voice.

I notch my knuckles under her chin, so she has to look up at me. "You heard me. I will not let him control my life anymore. Everything I’ve done so far in my life has been to get a reaction out of him, and that includes joining the Royal Marines." I wince. It’s the first time I’ve said the words aloud.

"Wow, that’s quite a confession," she murmurs.

"All those months of being stuck on my own provided me enough time to think over my past. When I returned to London, I was confused about what I wanted. I lost faith in the goals that guided my life until then. I joined the military—not only because I wanted to serve my country, though that, too—but also because it was a giant fuck you to my father’s lifestyle. He spent his time pursuing money and power, and I swore not to be like him. But then I got captured, and my world turned upside down. So, when I returned, I figured what I had to do was embrace that materialistic part of me, if that makes sense?"