The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(3)

I tip up my chin and glance around at my friends. "Right, then. Now that I’ve made a complete earthworm of myself, can someone point me in the direction of the door?"

Mira’s lips twitch. "Uh, Penny, did you say, earthworm?"

"Yeah, you know, since I don’t like to swear. And I’ll take my torn Chucks—which, by the way, are the same as Converse. Did you know that? I didn’t. I had to, uh, Google it and— Oh, my god, I’m doing it again. I’m jabbering on." I hunch my shoulders. "Can we pretend that didn’t happen?"

A nerve pops at Knight’s temple. “To answer your question, I’m good. I might have been locked up and tortured for six months—”

I swallow.

“—but that’s only made me stronger. It’s what my job prepared me for. A job I've since given up. And now, I have a question of my own.” He looks me up and down. "Who the fuck are you?"





2





Knight





“Penny.” She flashes me a big smile, her blue eyes sparkling. She thrusts out her hand and approaches me. “I’m Penny.”

I purposely cross my arms over my chest. Her face falls, then she lowers her hand and manages to smile again. Fucking hell, did she swallow sunshine and rainbows today?

“It’s fine, I know who you are.”

I glare at her.

Some of the color fades from her cheeks. Her smile switches off, thank fuck.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to talk or anything. My ma says I can keep a conversation going all on my own.”

No shit.

She pushes a strand of pink-colored hair behind her tiny ear. Her heart-shaped face has high cheekbones, a turned-up nose and a plush bow shaped mouth that’s currently moving again. I tune her out and focus on the dress that drapes over her narrow shoulders—also pink. What a surprise, eh? It dips low enough at the neckline to hint at her ample cleavage.

Cleavage I’ve been trying to keep my gaze off of since I slipped in the door. The only reason I’m here is because I knew my sister would be anxious to see me.

It’s been forty-eight hours since I was extracted from hell. During that time, I was flown to a military base in Germany and debriefed. After a quick shower and five hours of sleep, I was ready to be transferred home. They insisted I speak with a shrink, which I initially refused. I agreed to it after being told I couldn't return home without doing it, since they needed to ensure I was of sound mind.

Gaining the confidence of the shrink took no time at all. Once he’d signed off, with the caveat that I continue the sessions when I returned home—unlikely—I sat through a debriefing meeting with my superiors.

I must have said enough to convey to them that I was quitting. They were not happy about it. I’m one of the few soldiers to escape from being held by the enemy. I was their prized horse, the one who survived incredible odds and made it back home. A shining example of the resilience and survival skills of what the Royal Marines stood for. Only they didn’t realize the true extent of what I’ve been through. Only I know the guilt I carry with me. The pain and helplessness and fury at seeing my team members killed in front of my eyes.

I had a bad feeling about the mission, but orders are orders. One doesn’t disobey them when they're handed down from the highest authority in the country.

Like a good soldier—and ultimately, that’s all I was, regardless of the fact that I was part of the secret service—I answered the call of my motherland. And almost died. That I’m standing here today is, in no little part, due to the crack-extraction unit my friends put together to get me out of the purgatory I was trapped in. Black, darkness, pain, and a sense of hopelessness were my constant companions. In some ways, I'm stuck in that hole they stuck me in. In some ways, I'm stretched out on that table while my enemies waterboarded me, before sticking electric rods onto my extremities and—

"Hey, you all right?"

I scowl down at the slip of a woman who’s waving her hand at me. "You, uh, you blanked out there for a second."

I glower at her. Upturned nose, big blue eyes, skin that looks soft enough to give way under the impact of my palm. Plush lips which, when parted, would reveal a heart-shaped hole that would be perfect for my cock. I blink.

Where did that thought come from? Women like her, who seem to be made from spun sugar, usually dissolve when faced with a light rain. With her ample breasts, tiny waist, and hips the perfect size to hold onto when I bend her over and fuck her… She's the kind of woman I need to avoid.

She’d never understand the darkness I carry within me. The agony that comes from having your life ripped apart. My ideals shattered. My goals revealed as a mistake. Everything I believed in, every opinion I’ve held, every interpretation of my hopes, my resolves… All of it, a mirage.

I wasted my life for the greater good. I wanted to contribute to my community, to my country, to my fellow humans. Something I held close to my heart since the day I became conscious I had the capacity to make a difference. All bullshit. All of it a mistake. A fallacy. I was fooled; I deluded myself. It took a stay behind enemy lines for my blinders to be removed.

From now on, I live… For myself. I'm going to join the ranks of those who pursue power, who make money. It's the only tangible thing, a stake in the ground. There are no shades of grey when it comes to money. It brings with it the influence and the power I crave.