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55
Penny
The receptionist gasps. I freeze. Did she say what I think she did? I try to glance over my shoulder to get a good look at her, but he tightens his grip in my hair, and holds me in place.
"You shouldn’t have come here," he growls.
"So you can keep fucking your… your whore?" she spits out.
I draw in a sharp breath. When he calls me his whore, it feels like the most beautiful phrase in the world. Coming from anyone else, it makes me feel dirty and used. I try to pull away from him, but does he let me? Of course, not. He presses my head into his chest and holds me in place.
Before I can say anything, footsteps sound, then a new voice cries, “There you are, Bobbie. I’m so sorry, Mr. Warren. I took her for a walk and my back was turned for just a few seconds, and she took off with my purse. Before I could get to her, she’d flagged down a cab. I managed to follow her here and—”
He must have raised his hand because her voice cuts off.
"Can you please take her back? I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says in a neutral tone.
“Of course,” the new arrival replies.
The woman who’d burst in earlier protests, but a moment later, I hear them leave and the door closes.
Silence descends, filled with the kind of tension I thought we put behind us. I was sure we were beginning to communicate with each other, that we were going to find a new balance, perhaps a way of becoming husband and wife in the truest sense, but this… This turn of events is something I did not anticipate.
I push against his shoulders, and this time, he releases me. I scramble off his lap. His stupid dick slides out, leaving me empty and wanting, andOhhh!What’s wrong with me?That woman claimed to be his wife, and I can’t stop yearning for this man.Loser. Loser. What a loser.I manage to slip into my panties, then pull on my jeans and zip them up. I straighten my bra, then thread the one remaining button on my jacket through the eyehole, sans camisole, since he shredded that. By the time I turn to face him, he’s zipped up his fly, smoothed his hair, and is leaning back in his chair.
I open my mouth, but he shakes his head. "Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not what it sounds like."
"So, she’s not your wife?"
He hesitates. "You’re my wife."
He hesitated. Oh, my god, he paused before he said the words I wanted to hear from him.
"Who is she, Knight?"
His gaze narrows, no doubt, because I called him by his name. Too bad. Right now, I’m not in the mood to call him by the name he prefers. And if that makes him mad, then bully for me.
"Who is she?" I ask again.
"Why don’t you sit down first?"
I shake my head. "Oh, no, no, no. Don’t go all polite now. Don’t tell me to sit down, like my knees won’t be able to hold me up after I find out who she really is."
"She's the wife of one of my team members who was killed when we were taken captive. When I returned, the first thing I did was go to each of their homes and break the news to them in person. When I told her about her husband, she couldn’t take it. She fell unconscious. When she woke up, she was convinced I was her husband. And I—I went along with it."
"You went along with it."
"She’d had a psychotic episode. I felt responsible for what had happened. Of course, I went along with it."
"So, you let her believe you were her husband?"
His jaw firms, but he nods.
"And she thinks she's your wife."
He nods again. "I admitted her to a hospital, made sure she got the best care. Adam and I go to see her every day."
"Adam—your friend, and the only other team member who survived. That Adam?"
