Fucking hell, the lack of sleep is getting to me, clearly.
I straighten. "So, it’s settled. You’ll draw up a list of eligible women who meet the criteria, and I’ll choose one from them."
"Wait, what?" she yelps. The phone slips from her hand and falls to the settee next to her. "How do I know what the criteria—"
"Because you’re going to draw it up for me."
She begins to shake her head. "I wouldn’t know where to start."
"I’ll help you." I allow my lips to curve a little.
She scowls. "Uh, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea."
"Nonsense, it’s a great idea. We’ll get dinner tonight, and I’ll walk you through my requirements."
"See, I knew this would work out." Abby rises to her feet. "The two of you work so well as a team."
Penny scowls.
I nod. "Thanks, sis." I walk toward Abby and take her arm to guide her toward the door. "I knew I could count on you."
"Wait, wait, I’m coming, too." Penny jumps up and dashes in our direction.
I see Abby out, then shut the door, turn and push my shoulders against them. "Where do you think you’re going, Ms. Easton?"
"Uh, I have work to do." Penny slows to a stop a good four feet in front of me. Like that would stop me from touching her, if I wanted to. But I’ll allow it, considering I need help in locking down suitable candidates to fulfill this damnable stipulation my father has concocted.
"Put everything else on hold. Your priority is to find me a wife."
"This is crazy. Are you hearing yourself? I cannot find you a wife. This is the twenty-first century. One doesn’t go sourcing wives in the market."
"You’re right about one thing. It is a market."
She shuffles her weight from foot to foot. "I’ve no idea what you’re talking about."
"I’ll pay a million dollars when the woman marries me, and then a million for every year we stay married. Plus, I'll add two million for every kid she produces—once I confirm the offspring is mine, of course, via DNA testing."
She gapes at me. "Do you think you can buy anything?"
"Do you think I can’t buy everything?" I step forward; she skitters back. Damn, but I find her skittishness around me so damn alluring. The fact that she, clearly, dislikes me and hates that her body responds to me but is powerless to stop it sends a jolt of adrenaline shooting through my veins. I advance on her, and her big, blue eyes grow enormous. She slides back, and when I don’t stop, turns and darts forward and around my desk.
"What do you think you’re doing?" I drawl.
"Uh, just, uh, the view." She stabs a finger at the window, and when I round the desk, she slips around the other side and toward the door. She’s almost out the room when I call her name, "Oh, Ms. Warren."
She flinches.
"Don’t forget your phone."
17
Penny
I wish I’d left my phone behind. That way, I wouldn’t have to read the barrage of excited messages from Mira, who’s under the impression Sir Knighthole is taking me out to dinner. I tried to correct her misconception and explained that it was a working dinner, but this only elicited a bunch of more excited messages from her.
We’re in his car with Rudy driving and the partition behind him raised for privacy.
At seven p.m., when I was sure I’d keel over with hunger, he marched out of his office, snapped his fingers as he passed me, and expected me to follow. I stuck out my tongue at his back, and he commented without turning, "You done with making childish faces, or should I take this as a sign I need to spank the brattiness out of you?"
Oh, my god. My pussy clenched so hard, my toes curled, and I almost dissolved into a slobbering mess right there on the spot. I managed to find a measure of composure enough to scramble up, grab my coat, and race to keep up with him.
The ride down in the elevator passed with him glued to his phone and me aware of how he seemed to dwarf the space. Every pore in my body was alert to his every breath, the way his big fingers made the phone seem tiny in his palm, the way those thick fingers of his had been inside me and taken me to the edge and—
My phone vibrates with another incoming message. This time, I move it over to my other palm and peek at the screen.
Mira: Okay okay. Sorry I’m so excited about your dinner. Make sure you share all the details with me once you’re back.
Me: Will do but there won’t be much to report. It’s a boring dinner to discuss his new hire.
Which is true. After all, Knight’s going about this entire exercise of finding his wife like it's a business merger.
Mira: Eggplant emoji. Pussycat emoji. Sweating emoji.
Me: Sleeping face emoji.
"If you’re done playing with your phone, Ms. Easton, perhaps we can get some work done?" he drawls.
Ha, told you he thinks of this exercise of going bride-hunting as some kind of investment strategy. In a way, it is. It's his route to consolidating his position in his company, so I guess he's not completely wrong. Only the rich would connect their need for power and their personal lives so closely. Of course, from what Abby has told me, Knight wasn’t always like this. Does what he went through justify what he’s become now? I suppose, I don’t know because it didn’t happen to me. But… it’s something I’m not able to get my head around.
"Ms. Easton, I asked you a question."
I blink, then give him my full attention. "The answer is no."
"Did you even hear the question?" He scowls.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I wouldn’t dare make you repeat yourself, Mr. Warren, Sir."
His eyes flash, and heat spikes in my lower belly. In the next second, he banks whatever momentary lapse in composure he displayed. In fact, maybe I mistook the streetlight shining through the window and in his eyes for that crack in his self-control.
"No, I don’t need to use my phone, and sorry I was distracted. It was, uh, my friend Mira. I was letting her know I'm headed out for dinner so we can’t meet this evening."
"She a good friend of yours?"
"Oh, yes." I allow my lips to curve in a genuine smile. "I’ve only been in London a few years. Not long enough to meet that many people, and of course, with my mother’s condition deteriorating—" I look away and swallow, "Uh… it hasn’t been easy to socialize. But thanks to Abby, who I met through a mutual friend, I also met Mira, and now the three of us hang out a lot. Or rather, we used to, now that Abby is married and all." I hunch my shoulders, force myself to keep the smile on my face. "It’s fine. It’s life, you know? The only constant is change."
I glance up to find he’s staring at me with a strange look in his eyes.
"What?" I half laugh. "Do I have a spot on my face or something?"
"You have a—" He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "It had come lose from your hairdo."
"Oh, thanks." I swallow. A slow, melting sensation coils in my chest. It’s different to the explosive chemistry that always stretches between us. Even now, in the car, the air is heavy with unspoken needs, wants, cravings, desires… All those things we’re taught to never voice but which, the more you don't acknowledge them, the more they grow bigger in the space. But this—whatever this nascent, fragile emotion is that curves around my heart—is different. We stare at each other; the silence stretches.