The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(19)

She blinks. "I am?"

She’s surprised. I don’t blame her. Hell, I surprised myself with that statement. But needs must, and all that. She’s pissed off, and if I were my natural self, she wouldn't listen to me. So, I’m going to turn on my charm and try to convince her. My charm always works, after all. I curve my lips.

She frowns. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to demonstrate that it’s a good idea for you to listen to me."

"Well, if you’re going to wear that grimace on your face—"

I straighten my mouth. "It wasn’t a grimace."

"I was on the receiving end of it, so trust me when I say, it was painful to look at."

I stiffen my spine. Fuck that pretense. It’s not me. Might as well lay it all out in black and white. "You will work for me."

"Excuse me?"

"You. Will. Work. For. Me," I growl.

She folds her arms across her chest. "And if I say no?"

The fuck? No one says no to me. Not even the team who followed me on my last mission; and look what happened to them? You saw them tortured; you saw them die. You should have died, too. Why did you escape, you— "Mr. Warren?" She touches my shoulder. "Hey, Mr. Warren, sir?"

Did she say sir? My cock twitches. I snap out of my reverie and look down my nose at her.

"Ms. Michelle Easton. Suffers from advanced dementia, which has led to her rapid degeneration. You moved her from Gainesville, Florida to London so you could take care of her.”

The color leaches from Penny’s cheeks.

“She’s confined to a care home the last three years and—"

"Stop, why are you telling me this?" she cries.

"Because you need the money to take care of her."

She flushes. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"It was an order, actually."

"An order?" she asks slowly.

I resist the urge to bark at her to stop wasting my time when we both know it’s only a matter of time before she complies.

"You’re ordering me to work for you?"

"Yes."

"And if I don’t want to?"

"Like I said, I don’t think you have the luxury of choice."

She tips up her chin. "I have other ways of making money."

"If you mean by pretending to be a submissive, you can drop that idea; you’re no good at it."

Her color deepens. "I… I can use my body."

Anger twists my guts; a physical pain stabs me in my chest. "No," I snap.

"Excuse me?"

I look her up and down. "If you think anyone is going to pay for that, then you’re being truly optimistic."

She draws in a sharp breath. "You’re a horrible, horrible man. After how you acted yesterday, I should have ignored you, but I thought, you're Abby’s brother; you’ve been through a lot the last six months. Which is why I gave you a second chance. Now, I know I made a mistake. You’re a born asshole. I don’t know how you have a wonderful person like Abby for a sister. You don’t deserve her." She slides off the bar stool and straight into the space between my thighs.

And do I let her go? Of course not. She thinks of me as a bastard. May as well confirm that impression, hmm? I reach forward and slap my palms on her barstool so I’ve bracketed her in.

Her chest rises and falls, and her breathing grows unsteady. "Wh-what are you doing?" Her voice is unsteady.

"You don’t think I’m going to let you go without being compensated in some way for the time you wasted yesterday, do you?"

"Hey, I'm the one who didn’t get paid for the pleasure you derived from my—" She snaps her lips together.

"From your—?"

"From my body."

"On the contrary, I'm the one who made you almost come with my expert handling of your pussy, so it’s you who owe me."

Her lips part, and her pupils dilate. Interesting. Is it because I used the P-word?

"Does your cunt miss the touch of my fingers?"

The pulse at the base of her throat drums faster.

"Does your arse feel the prints of my palm on it?"

She swallows.

"Did it hurt when you sat down, hmm?"

A jolt travels up her body.

So, she likes dirty talk. That’s good. Not that I’m keeping track of everything she responds to; nothing like that. But the thought of her not agreeing to my proposition… Is not acceptable. And when I tried to turn on the charm, she saw right through me. Which is why I’m being so heavy-handed, including using her mom’s needs to coerce her… Which is a shit move and isn’t helping my case. I need to back the fuck off here and be strategic.

I lower my face until my nose is positioned in front of hers. I draw in her sweet breath and my thigh muscles harden. Goddamn. Another few seconds here, and I’ll throw her down and have my way with her—which is crazy. I need to get through this conversation and seek out company of the feminine kind. A hole… Any hole will do. All those months without sex has warped my brain; that’s all it is. I push my feet into the floor of the bar and straighten. She blinks, then glances about the bar, and her lips part. "Where is everybody?"