The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(59)
This time, he’s the one who curls his mouth.
"I used to have people confess to me all the time. Now, I realize how difficult it is but also how cathartic it can be to talk to a faceless man."
I glance at him, then back at the view. "You a priest or something?”
He nods. "Once upon a time, but no longer. I left the church. Then lost my girl. I’ve been trying to find my faith since."
I wince.
"What did you lose?" he asks, looking forward.
"My belief. My convictions." I swallow. Somehow, it’s easier for me to speak to this man who I just met than to any of my friends or family… Other than Adam, that is.
It’s his turn to wince. "It’s fucking brutal." He curls his fingers into a fist and pushes it into the wall.
"Does it get better?" I ask slowly.
"It gets"—he pauses, then draws in a breath—"deeper, until it digs into your guts and becomes this poison that seeps into your system and corrodes your veins and eats away at your innermost emotions, until all you feel is an emptiness, a blankness, a vastness you know you’ll never be able to fill."
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Hope your sermons weren’t this deep, Father."
"It’s Edward, and truth be told, my sermons were never the most uplifting, but they always struck a chord with the congregation, or so I’m told. People came to me to hear the truth. I took pride in being able to be honest without worrying about the consequences, until it was time for me to share my own truth. I hesitated and I lost."
"I hesitated and I lost my entire team."
This time he turns to me. "Afghanistan?"
"Russia."
"You made it out of there."
Every muscle in my body coils with tension. "So I'm told. I wish I hadn’t."
"Ever ask yourself why you’re here and they're not?"
I scoff. "Every fucking day. "
"Perhaps you need to ask what would have happened if you hadn’t made it?"
"I’d be dead." And even then, I wouldn’t be at peace.
"You need closure."
"No shit."
"You need to … Embrace what you feel about her."
I draw myself up to my full height. "There are no feelings where she’s concerned."
He turns and props a hand on his hip. "I don’t know you that well, but you’re here. Meaning, not only do we have friends in common, but they trust you enough to invite you into their inner circle, so I’m going to tell you a secret."
"Not sure I want to hear it."
"Oh, trust me; you do."
"Save your breath… Father." I turn to leave, but he steps around and in front of me.
I glare at him.
He half smiles. "I wish someone had told me this when I was busy being an arse and forfeiting the chance to keep the most important thing in my life. I left when she needed me most. I was too much of a coward to face my own feelings. I wasn’t ready to face my own reality. I had too many of my own issues to sort out. I didn’t deserve her. I lost her."
"Sounds like a hell of tearjerker," I growl.
His smile widens. "Pride comes before a fall."
I scoff. "Thanks, but no thanks, for the free advice."
I turn to leave, only to find two men walking toward me.
"Hey, motherfucker." Rick smirks.
"Where you been hiding yourself, sunshine?" Finn nods.
"Out of my way, Rick, or I’ll be forced to tell people what your real name is."
Rick groans, then slaps the back of his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated gesture that portrays angst. "Oh, no! Not again," he pretends to cry before turning serious. "I’m tired of your holding that particular piece of information over me."
I snort.
"So, Rick isn’t your real name, huh?" Finn turns on him. After leaving the military, Rick went private, where he met Finn. Their love for ice hockey sealed their friendship. Rick played for the NHL in his late teens before he quit, moved back to London and joined the Royal Marines. Finn was an NHL player until a year ago when he’d decided to move into private security.
"Is Finn your real name?" Rick drawls.
Finn sets his jaw, and Rick smirks. "That’s what I thought. Also—" He stabs a finger at me. "Why you being a wallflower?"
"Because.” I shrug.
Finn’s grin widens. "So, you’re going to exchange sweet nothings with the priest here while someone else moves in on your girl?"
32
Penny
"Here’s your drink." The tall, dark and handsome man with silver at his temples, who's almost as gorgeous as Sir, but who is not Sir, hands me a flute of champagne.
"Thank you," I murmur, then take a sip. It’s cool and crisp and nowhere as delicious as the champagne Knight served on his deck yesterday. Was it only yesterday that we had dinner and shared conversation? When I thought we were making headway in getting to know each other? Was it only last night when he’d almost made me come, then pulled me into his chest and lulled me to sleep, before waking me up in the middle of the night with his face between my legs? At least, I think he ate me out like a starving man and almost made me come again. Unless I was dreaming. No, I don’t think I was dreaming. It felt too real, too intense, too good in the way that only Sir can make me feel. He’s the only one who can manage to take me to the edge, and when I think I can’t go any higher, he takes me there the next time around.