Page 273 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Knight

“Penny.” She flashes me a big smile, her blue eyes sparkling. She thrusts out her hand and approaches me. “I’m Penny.”

I purposely cross my arms over my chest. Her face falls, then she lowers her hand and manages to smile again. Fucking hell, did she swallow sunshine and rainbows today?

“It’s fine, I know who you are.”

I glare at her.

Some of the color fades from her cheeks. Her smile switches off, thank fuck.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to talk or anything. My ma says I can keep a conversation going all on my own.”

No shit.

She pushes a strand of pink-colored hair behind her tiny ear.

Her heart-shaped face has high cheekbones, a turned-up nose and a plush bow shaped mouth that’s currently moving again.

I tune her out and focus on the dress that drapes over her narrow shoulders—also pink.

What a surprise, eh? It dips low enough at the neckline to hint at her ample cleavage.

Cleavage I’ve been trying to keep my gaze off of since I slipped in the door. The only reason I’m here is because I knew my sister would be anxious to see me.

It’s been forty-eight hours since I was extracted from hell.

During that time, I was flown to a military base in Germany and debriefed.

After a quick shower and five hours of sleep, I was ready to be transferred home.

They insisted I speak with a shrink, which I initially refused.

I agreed to it after being told I couldn't return home without doing it, since they needed to ensure I was of sound mind.

Gaining the confidence of the shrink took no time at all. Once he’d signed off, with the caveat that I continue the sessions when I returned home—unlikely—I sat through a debriefing meeting with my superiors.

I must have said enough to convey to them that I was quitting.

They were not happy about it. I’m one of the few soldiers to escape from being held by the enemy.

I was their prized horse, the one who survived incredible odds and made it back home.

A shining example of the resilience and survival skills of what the Royal Marines stood for.

Only they didn’t realize the true extent of what I’ve been through.

Only I know the guilt I carry with me. The pain and helplessness and fury at seeing my team members killed in front of my eyes.

I had a bad feeling about the mission, but orders are orders. One doesn’t disobey them when they're handed down from the highest authority in the country.

Like a good soldier—and ultimately, that’s all I was, regardless of the fact that I was part of the secret service—I answered the call of my motherland.

And almost died. That I’m standing here today is, in no little part, due to the crack-extraction unit my friends put together to get me out of the purgatory I was trapped in.

Black, darkness, pain, and a sense of hopelessness were my constant companions.

In some ways, I'm stuck in that hole they stuck me in.

In some ways, I'm stretched out on that table while my enemies waterboarded me, before sticking electric rods onto my extremities and—

"Hey, you all right?"

I scowl down at the slip of a woman who’s waving her hand at me. "You, uh, you blanked out there for a second."

I glower at her. Upturned nose, big blue eyes, skin that looks soft enough to give way under the impact of my palm. Plush lips which, when parted, would reveal a heart-shaped hole that would be perfect for my cock. I blink.

Where did that thought come from? Women like her, who seem to be made from spun sugar, usually dissolve when faced with a light rain. With her ample breasts, tiny waist, and hips the perfect size to hold onto when I bend her over and fuck her… She's the kind of woman I need to avoid.

She’d never understand the darkness I carry within me. The agony that comes from having your life ripped apart. My ideals shattered. My goals revealed as a mistake. Everything I believed in, every opinion I’ve held, every interpretation of my hopes, my resolves… All of it, a mirage.

I wasted my life for the greater good. I wanted to contribute to my community, to my country, to my fellow humans.

Something I held close to my heart since the day I became conscious I had the capacity to make a difference.

All bullshit. All of it a mistake. A fallacy.

I was fooled; I deluded myself. It took a stay behind enemy lines for my blinders to be removed.

From now on, I live… For myself. I'm going to join the ranks of those who pursue power, who make money. It's the only tangible thing, a stake in the ground. There are no shades of grey when it comes to money. It brings with it the influence and the power I crave.

Never again will I be as helpless as the way I was in that hole in the ground.

I'm going to live life in complete control.

And that means never allowing anyone or anything close enough to make me feel again.

Emotions are raw, and real, and have no place in my future.

There's only me and my born-again vision.

Which definitely does not include the likes of a curvy, wide-eyed, innocent-gazed vixen.

I turn away from her, then walk over to my sister.

I take Abby’s hand in mine, then bring it to my mouth and kiss her knuckles.

"I’m sorry for what I put you through. I’m sorry I missed your wedding.

I’m sorry I spent so much time away from home.

All that is in the past. I’m back now, and I intend to make amends. "

Abby smiles through her tears, then she pulls her hand from my grasp and hugs me back. "Oh, Knight, I’m so happy you're safe and in one piece."

Am I though? I manage a tight smile, which seems to convince her enough that she steps back. She pats my cheek. "It really is wonderful to see you, Knight."

Cade, her husband and my best friend, pats my shoulder. "Good to have you back, mate."

I tip my chin in his direction, then turn to JJ. "Thanks for helping to put together the extraction task force."

"Sinclair and Michael also played a part in that." He’s referring to the two men who stand on either side of him. Sinclair Sterling is one of the Seven who co-owns 7A Investments, and Michael Sovrano is the ex-Don of the Cosa Nostra. Perhaps still is, though he claims to have gone legit.

JJ himself is the head of an organized crime syndicate in the UK who also professes to have moved to the right side of law.

The three of them represent the kind of morally grey men I once detested.

Men like my father. Men who are ruthless and exploit the system for their own selfish ends.

Men who value power and money over anything else—other than the women in their lives, and apparently, their friends. I mean, they came together to help me.

Once upon a time, I’d have passed judgment on them.

I’d have said they were the reason people lost hope in each other and the future.

Now, I understand this is the only way to be.

I might have had a vision about contributing to the greater good.

Now, I know the only good that makes sense is the kind that benefits me directly.

Sure, I'll extend it to include my sister and those who’d helped me out, but that’s where I draw the line.

Money, power, control of my own fate. Those are my ultimate goals. Good thing my father's a billionaire and can’t wait for me to take over his company. “I owe you both.” I tilt my head toward Sinclair and Michael.

JJ searches my features. "Did the crew arrive too late to save you?" he asks slowly. He seems to see something I've been desperately trying to hide from everyone else. He's a bit too observant for my tastes.

I scowl, then pretend I don't understand what he's implying.

I widen my stance and shove my hands into the pocket of my slacks.

" Adam and I—the only other surviving member of my team— had escaped from where we were being held.

It was perfect timing when we ran into them.

If not"—I raise a shoulder—"we wouldn’t be having this conversation. "

Silence descends on the group, then JJ nods.

"Anytime you need to talk..."

A-n-d so it begins. Everyone I meet feels the need to contribute.

They all think they know what I went through, that their words are going to help fill the gaping hole where my soul once used to be.

They have no fucking idea. He probably means well—and these are my friends, and I should be polite—but fuck that.

If they really are my friends, they’ll know I’m not in the right space for niceties.

I grunt before turning away and raising my hand at Abby and Cade. "I’ll be in touch."

Then, because I can’t push back the noise that fills my head anymore, I turn and stalk through the door, down the hallway, past the uniformed staff who’re placing drinks on trays, toward the front door.

Shouldering it open, stopping myself from taking the stairs two at a time, I walk down the steps at a steady pace and turn toward where my car is parked.

I lean against the trunk, draw in a breath, then another, and will my racing heart to slow down.

Coerce my pulse to climb down from the insane speed at which it’s galloping.

I’ve come to realize something very quickly; I don’t like being indoors or in any kind of space with a crowd of people.

Not that the room inside was crowded. Indeed, I know most of the people there.

I saw the concern on their faces. Noticed the questions in their eyes.

Their worry was a thrum in the room, and it repelled me.

I don’t want their pity. Their scrutiny.

Their agitation on my behalf. I want to deal with what I’ve been through on my own terms. As I feel is right.

Leaving the army was the first step. I need to keep going and assume the reigns of the empire I turned my back on for so long. I—

"Hey, soldier?" That same cheery voice that grated on my nerves earlier has, apparently, followed me out here.

I square my shoulders. Turning my back on her, I round my car. My chauffeur appears and holds the door open for me. I’m about to slide in when there’s a tug on my sleeve.

"Uh, can I call you Knight?"