"Stop looking at me like I’m going to self-destruct any moment," I snap.
"Stop holding back. It’s okay to rely on your friends."
"My friends are dead," I say through gritted teeth.
Finn scoffs. "Poor ol’ Knight, mourning those he lost. Sinking in self-despair. Lonely and sad in his penthouse, succumbing to hopelessness, and waging a war against destiny for the blow it has dealt him, and—" He reels back when I plant my fist in his face. Blood spurts from his nose, and he stumbles back laughing.
I scowl. "You got a death-wish man?"
"At least that got a rise out of you." He coughs.
I shake out my hand. "Your face might be pretty, but it’s harder than I gave it credit for."
"So are you, my man. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how far you’ve come." He snatches up the bandanna Rick’s tossed him, then balls it and pushes it into his smashed nose.
"Jesus, you have a mean strike." Finn coughs.
"Comes for years of conditioning. Every morning, for two hours at the naval base, right until the day I—" I firm my lips.
"The day you left on the mission?" Rick widens his stance. "Time you spoke about what happened there with someone."
"I’m talking to the two of you."
"I mean with someone who has the professional background to listen to you and steer you through the emotional minefields."
"Now you’re talking like her."
"She’s right," Finn pipes up. His voice sounds muffled, thanks to the cloth he’s holding against his nose. "You should see a shrink."
"I talk to Adam—often."
"Considering he was there with you through the ordeal, I’m not sure how beneficial that’s going to be for either of you."
"Oh, it’s beneficial," I laugh, my tone bitter. "More than you can imagine."
Finn and Rick exchange another glance.
"Now what?" I glance between them. "It’s bad enough my employees pussy-foot around me in the office—"
"And who’s fault is that?" Rick scoffs.
"Not her though, I assume?" Finn smirks, then groans. And honestly, any remorse I may have had for how I hit him fades at that.
"You mean my fiancée?"
"Fiancée?" He blinks.
"Finally, fuck." Rick beams.
"Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s a marriage of convenience. That’s all it is."
46
Penny
"He sure seems nervous," Mira peeks out through the door of the dressing room adjoining the main ceremony room where I’m standing at the town hall in Islington.
Sir and nervous? I snort. "He’s probably devising new ways to make my life miserable, is all."
Mira shoots me a curious glance. "Is that code for—" she stabs her forefinger through the hole created by bringing her forefinger and thumb of her other hand together.
I roll my eyes. It’s been four days since he proposed. Four days since he went down on bended knee and proposed with words that sounded so heartfelt, it’s no wonder Mira has stars in her eyes. I, too, would have been taken in by it. I confess, I was taken in by what he said. Only, before I could ask him about it, he hustled me out into the car, then become immersed in his phone so I couldn’t really ask him for clarification.
When we reached his penthouse, he guided me to one of the guest rooms on the opposite side of the corridor from his room. Tiny bounded in after me. Knight hesitated, then glared at the dog, who panted and happily parked himself at my feet. I gripped Tiny’s collar and stared back at Knight. He firmed his lips, then nodded, as if coming to a decision.
He told me the kitchen was stocked and I could order anything I wanted to eat from the app on my phone. He also said that he’d arrange to pay for the food. Then, he thrust something into my hands, which turned out to be his platinum credit card, before he stepped back and left. I haven’t seen him since. Not when Abby threw me an impromptu bridal shower at her place, not when I came into the office to continue with my job—he didn’t tell me not to work, and if I didn’t have a place to go to each day, I’d go crazy twiddling my thumbs—not when I lingered around at lunch time—which he now allows me to take as a break because I might be pregnant—and after work, trying to catch a glimpse of him on the floor. That is, until the receptionist sweetly informed me that Mr. Warren is away on a business trip for the next four days.
That bastard! I am his assistant. I’m the first person he should inform about his plans, but he didn’t bother to update me. Not a text message. Nothing! Nada. Argh! He didn’t ask me to cancel his meetings for the week—no, he did it himself. He went to the extreme to cease all communication with me.
At first, it made me a little mad, then a little sad to realize I wouldn’t be able to talk to him before the wedding. That is, until the wives and girlfriends of the Seven and the Sovranos and their friends descended on me.
Karma came, weighted down with dresses for me to try on. Summer brought along Rachel—a wedding planner who’s worked with Isla—to help me with organizing the event. Mira commandeered Knight’s black Amex and ordered enough food for us and Tiny, along with enough champagne to make us all very happy. Yep, the bosshole left his credit card, with instructions for me to use it as needed. I balked at that, but Mira had no such compunctions.
Then there was Abby, who beamed from ear to ear and refused to listen when I told her the wedding was fake.
Apparently, my closest friends, too, want to buy into the notion that we are in love and getting married, so much so, that a part of me began to believe in the story. Especially when I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom and saw the gorgeous creation Karma had made for me.
Now, I glance down at the gorgeous champagne-pink colored gown that clings to my curves with a fishtail train that spreads out behind me. Not as elaborate as the train on the Princess of Wales’ wedding dress, but also, not too short as to be insignificant.
The dress has a high neckline and long, sheer sleeves, but it’s the second skin effect with the nude underlay that I love. When I move it gives the impression that I’m not wearing anything underneath the lace, and the back? Well, there is no back. The neckline plunges all the way to the cleavage between my ass-cheeks. It stops short of being obscene. Barely. Also, she carefully stitched in some of the lace I’d carefully cut from my mother’s bridal gown, so it made me feel close to her.
I’d wanted my mother to attend, but when I went to tell her about my upcoming nuptials, I found her in a state of agitation. That's what I get for visiting her after dinner. She became very upset upon seeing me and burst into tears. When I tried to calm her, she pushed me away and started yelling. Eventually, Sunita stepped in and, by calmly talking to her, managed to assuage her agitation. Once my mother was otherwise occupied, Sunita indicated I should leave while she was distracted.
I haven’t had the courage to go back to the nursing home. It's not that I worry about her being angry with me. I just hate to see her that way. The fact that she probably forgot all about me as soon I left is what hurts the most. Can you blame me for throwing myself into the day-to-day work of the office? Which was much easier, since the bosshole wasn’t around, but also a little boring, if I'm being honest. As since I'm being honest, I must admit I’ve been dying for a glimpse of my bridegroom. I know he didn't have any kind of bachelor party, and in fact, only flew in this morning. Abby told me he was coming to his wedding straight from the airport.