Page 110 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Hunter

She steps out of the school entrance, and her gaze widens.

Her body tightens, then she squares her shoulders and heads in my direction.

Her scent teases my nostrils, then she walks past me.

I follow her out of the school gates then down the sidewalk until she comes to a coffee shop.

She walks inside with me in tow. I take the seat opposite her.

She ignores me and scans the menu. When the waitress comes, I order her a chai tea latte and a black coffee for myself.

After the other woman leaves, she narrows her gaze on me. "Is there no part of my life that you don’t know about?"

"I didn’t know you were volunteering with children with special needs."

She glances away, then locks her fingers in her lap. "How did you find me? Did you bug my phone? Is that how you tracked me down?"

When I don’t reply, she jerks her gaze in my direction. She spots the expression on my face and her jaw drops. "No way."

"I had to make sure you were safe."

"What did you think was going to happen to me? We live in a first-world country, or have you forgotten?"

"You forget, you are involved with me. The media attention on me is only going to grow, and it’s going to bring all kinds of people out of the woodwork. I had to make sure you were protected at all times, which is why I have eyes on you. As long as you are fine, I can focus on my work."

"I assume you also have security on me?"

I tilt my head.

She draws in a breath, then squeezes the bridge of her nose. "This is so fucked up, Hunter. Have you heard yourself? You’re obsessed with me. You’re stalking me, and you’re possibly the next leader of this country."

I set my jaw. "As long as you are kept from harm, I can focus on other things."

"So, you bug my phone and, I assume, my computer, as well? What about my apartment and my office?"

I raise a shoulder.

Her eyes widen. “You bugged my apartment and my office?”

“I have cameras on you, yes.”

She stares at me, then holds up her hand. "You’ve lost it."

"I have. I can’t think. Can’t focus on my campaign. Can’t sleep at night unless I jerk off to images of you under me. Can’t eat unless I recall the taste of your pussy when you come all over my tongue."

Her breath hitches. Her eyes flash.

"I compare every woman I meet to you and find them all wanting. Your grit, your tenacity, and your strength fascinate me. I always knew you had a big, giving heart, and what I saw today only confirmed that I have been right all along. There’s no one for me but you, Fire.

I’d rather spend my days loving you than spend my time pursuing a calling that feels meaningless unless you are by my side. "

Our gazes catch and hold through the interval when the waitress arrives and places our drinks on the table.

"I should resent you for intruding into my life.

I should hate you for leaking that photo of us and destroying my reputation.

I should" —she bites the inside of her cheek— "abhor you for how you fucked me so hard, you’ve spoiled me for anyone else, how you manipulated me into a place from which the only way out is to join forces with you, to accept your proposal… And yet, I can’t find it in myself to do so.

" She glances between my eyes. "Why is that, Hunter? "

I hold out my hand, palm face up. "You know why."

She swallows, then places her hand in mine.

I weave my fingers with hers, and a sense of rightness grips me.

A sense of peace envelops me. A sense of…

never wanting to let go of her makes me tighten my hold.

She squeezes my hand, and my heart stutters.

That iron band around my chest—the one I hadn’t been aware of—loosens.

I draw in a breath, and the rush of oxygen to my lungs makes my head spin.

"I volunteer at the school, at least once in two weeks. A small local charity runs these sports sessions where they train us volunteers to play games with special needs children."

"Because of Olly?"

She nods. "He had ASD, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he was the most beautiful little boy I’ve ever known. I was only sixteen when he was born, and he became my entire life.

“My parents were busy with the shop; Cade was already a budding cricketer with the junior English cricket team and traveling to matches.

I spent every spare minute I had with Olly.

I was responsible for him. That day" —she blinks rapidly— "that day, I took him to the park to play. But I had just gotten my first phone and couldn’t stop messing with it. I took my gaze off of him for a few seconds, and when I looked up, he was gone. I searched for him all over the park, and as I reached the exit, I heard the screech of brakes. I knew it right away. I knew what I would find before I even reached the road. He died in a car accident. He’d dashed out into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

" She firms her lips. "He never had a chance.

" She pulls her hand from mine. “But you had me investigated, so you probably already know all of this.”

I hesitate. “I knew you had a youngest sibling who died in an accident.” A tear rolls down her cheek.

My heart feels like it’s going to splinter apart. “Zara, baby, please.” I wrap my arm about her, and to my relief, she lets me pull her close.

"It was my fault," she says in a low voice.

"It was an accident."

"I should have been more vigilant." Her chin quivers.

"You were barely an adult yourself."

She opens her eyes and looks up at me. "I was nineteen." She sets her jaw. "I knew my responsibilities and I failed him."

"You’ve been punishing yourself ever since." I lean in, bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingertips. "That’s why you work so hard. That’s why you’re so focused on your career."

"You’ve spent a lot of time analyzing me, haven’t you?" She scowls.

"Obsessed with you, remember?"

Her lips kick up. "And I’m obsessed with you, too."

"I know."

"Damn, but that swollen ego—" she murmurs.

"Is not the only thing that’s swollen at the moment."

She scoffs. "Keep it in your pants, buster, especially since we’re going out there to face the paps, who’ve already begun to hover outside the door."

I fold her fingers in mine. "Found us, did they?"

"Took them longer than expected. They must be losing their touch."

"Or you’re too smart for them."

"You smooth-talker, you."

"Comes with the territory, baby."

I lean in; so does she. I hold her gaze as I lower my lips to hers. I kiss her softly, slowly, gently, and a sigh wafts from her lips. I begin to tilt my head and deepen the kiss, then stop myself.

"You sure you want to do this now?"

She holds my gaze for a second more, then nods.

"Okay."

"Okay."

I rise to my feet, and she follows me, hand-in-hand, as we head out of the café. We step outside, and the questions hit us.

"Are you two together, Mr. Whittington?"

"Are you marrying Zara, Mr. Whittington?"

"Are you pregnant, Zara?"

"Yes."

I hear her answer, and for a second, it doesn’t register. And then, it does. It must take the journalists by surprise, too, because for a second, there’s silence. I glance at her, trying to keep all expression from my face, and hoping to god I succeed.

"Congratulations, how many weeks are you along, Zara?"

"Are the two of you already engaged?"

"Where’s your ring, Zara?"

"Will you be by Mr. Whittington’s side when he campaigns, instead of behind the scenes?"

I squeeze her hand, and she returns the pressure.

She’s pregnant. With my child. And she didn’t think to tell me about it?

Is this her way of getting back at me for coercing her into a situation where she has no choice but to marry me?

And considering she’s pregnant, isn’t that best for the child, too?

I raise my hand and wait until the journalists quieten.

"Zara and I are together. We haven’t set any plans for a wedding. When we do, we’ll let you know. That’s all I’m going to say right now."

I begin to shoulder my way past the first rows of paps, but she tugs on my arm. I turn to find she hasn’t moved from her place. She tips up her chin at me. "I have something to say."

"Now?"

She nods.

I frown, trying to read her features, but unable to understand what that look in her eyes means. When she stays silent, I turn to the journalists and, once more, raise my hand. When they fall silent, I gesture toward Zara. "My soon to-be wife wants to share a few words."

I step back by her side. She squeezes down on my hand. Her fingers are cold once more. A tremor runs down her body. Then she lowers her chin. "I’m sorry, Hunter, but it’s best for it to come out all at once."

Before I can ask what she means, she’s turned back to the journalists.

"I became pregnant when I was sixteen and lost my son when I was nineteen."