Page 155 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

"Oh?" I walk over and drop into the settee. "So, why don’t you sit down and tell me what your plan is?" I pat the seat next to me.

She hesitates, then walks over and sits down in the chair opposite me.

I smirk. She scowls.

"We need something extraordinary to convince the reporters that an incident like that will not happen again."

"Good luck with that." I scratch my jaw. "This isn’t my first time making headlines, thanks to a bar room brawl."

"You say that with pride."

I raise a shoulder. "I am a sportsman. I have an abundance of testosterone in my blood. Sometimes I need to blow it off—"

"By engaging in a bar fight?" She scoffs.

"I am not going to apologize for what I did."

Her gaze narrows. "Already, the press is having a field day with this fight and—" Her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, then pales.

"What is it."

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Don’t lie to me."

"I’m not, I—"

I reach over the coffee table between us and snatch the phone out of her hand.

The headlines of a popular tabloid declare:

Who’s the mysterious beauty whose virtue Cade 'The King' Kingston defended by getting into a bar-fight at a popular night spot in Soho?

Accompanying it is a picture that captures me in profile, swinging at the stranger. Only the back of Abby’s head is in one corner of the picture. The quality of the entire shot is grainy.

"No one can tell it’s you,” I reassure her.

She nods.

"I won’t let any of them get away with talking trash about you."

She flips her hair over her shoulder. "What are you going to do? Pick a fight with all of them?"

"If I have to."

She stares, then cracks a smile. "That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. And it will only make things worse."

"I could, of course, use the resources at my disposal to buy all of them off," I say slowly.

"And how would that look, if it got out?"

"It won’t."

She rubs at her temple. "Does your thought process always stray into the grey area of the law?"

"If needed." I raise a shoulder.

"You have no fear, do you?"

"I wouldn’t be facing down a ball at nearly a hundred miles per hour if I did."

"A hundred miles per hour?" She blinks.

"That’s the speed a fast bowler’s delivery is to the batsman in cricket. The pace of a bowler challenges the reaction speed of the batsman as well as his physical courage. You snooze and you lose your head, literally."

When she continues to look confused, I blow out a breath. "You don’t know anything about cricket, do you?"

"I know more than I did eight months ago." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she glances away. "Uh, forget I said that."

"Let’s not." I peer into her face. "Have you been familiarizing yourself with cricket?"

"I might have caught some of the matches you played, yes."

"Ah, missed me, did you?"

“Yea, like you miss a scab when the wound finally heals and it falls off,” she grumbles at a volume I might have missed were I not so focused on her.

I laugh, and she scowls.

"Nothing of the sort. You’re Zara’s brother. I felt duty-bound to acquaint myself with cricketing terms, so I’d have a common vocabulary with which to converse with her."

"Hmm." I swipe my finger down my bottom lip.

"What?" Her scowl deepens.

"You can’t be working for the leading cricketer in the world without knowing more about this King of Sports."

"King of Sports?" She scoffs.

"You don’t believe me?"

"Umm, no?"

"Cricket was the most popular American team sport before the Civil War, did you know that?"

"That would be a no, again." She looks uncomfortable.

"I have much to educate you on." And not only in the language of my favorite sport. In fact, educating you in how to please me might take precedence over my favorite sport.

"Why do I get a feeling you’re not talking about cricket?"

I raise my hands. "Would I do a thing like that?"

"It’s absolutely what you would do." She narrows her gaze. "Also, don’t segue from the task at hand."

"Which is?"

"Finding a way to salvage your reputation, especially since you’re not going to apologize for what you did. Which, by the way, is a huge mistake, if you ask me."

I lean forward and lock my fingers together. "He touched you, Sparrow. No one gets to touch you like that—not as long as I’m watching over you."

She gapes at me. "You do realize I’m allowed to date."

"Not as long as I’m your guardian."

"I am an adult; I don’t need a guardian," she bites out.

"Tell that to your brother."

Her scowl deepens. "You know I won’t disturb him, not when he needs every bit of his attention focused on the tour."

"Not my problem."

"I really, really do hate you," she says in a low voice.

"Mission accomplished." I make the motion of dusting my hands, then lean back in my seat. "Also, I may have the perfect solution for the situation."

"A perfect solution?" She mirrors my stance and leans back as well, then folds her arms across her chest.

"You want to find a way of salvaging my reputation with the media, correct?”

"And with your sponsors." She tilts her head. "Aren’t you worried that they’ll drop you with all this negative press?"

"They can’t afford to."

"You sound very confident."

"I put bums on seats in the stadium." I crack my neck.

"I have the kind of looks that attract women and have them keenly follow the sport along with their men. The women like my bad boy reputation and the men want to be me. The furor around the brawls I pick up only stokes my fame. It’s what makes me irreplaceable. "

"No one's irreplaceable."

"I am." I stretch out my legs. Her gaze drops to my thighs, then between them. She stares, then flicks out her tongue to touch her bottom lip. I’m instantly hard.

My cock presses up against the fabric over my crotch, and her breath catches.

I widen my stance, and place my arms by my sides, giving her an unrestricted view.

Her chest rises and falls. No doubt, she remembers how it feels to have me inside of her, fucking her and making her come over and over again.

But that was only the beginning. I’ve had enough time away from her to come up with the filthiest fantasies of what I’d do to her when I saw her next. And while I hadn’t thought I’d get the chance to act upon them, I’m going to make the most of the opportunity that has presented itself.

I twist my lips and the pulse at the base of her throat beats faster. Fuck me, but she’s aroused. And so am I. And if we stay here any longer, I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing her down on the floor and taking her a-n-d… No way, am I going there. Not yet.

I clear my throat. She flushes, then tips up her chin. "Uh, you were saying?"

"I believe I have the makings of a plan."

"Oh?"

I nod. "You want to salvage my reputation."

"You mean you want me to salvage your reputation." She tips up her chin.

"Indeed." I incline my head. “As my Communications Manager, I’m sure you’ll want to do everything possible to restore my character.”

“I suppose I do,” she nods slowly

"Well then, it’s settled."

"Wait, what?” She leans forward. “What do you mean? What’s settled?"

"You’re marrying me."