Page 282 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Penny

"You told him whaaat?" Mira spits out her vodka across the bar. The man on the barstool next to her moves out of the way, then scowls at her. Mira raises her hand. "Sorry, sorry. My friend announced to the man she has a crush on that she's a vir—"

I clap my hand over her mouth. And I thought I was filterless. "Why don’t you announce it on social media, huh?"

She looks at me and says something, but her words are muffled by my palm.

"I’ll release you if you promise to stay quiet."

She nods. I lower my hand. She grabs her drink and takes another sip. "Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to burst out like that. You took me by surprise, is all."

"You mean the fact that I’m a virgin, or that I blurted that out to him?"

"Both?" She leans an elbow on the counter.

We’re at the bar at The Club the day after my announcement to the grumphole that I've yet to lose my V-card. And the only reason I’m here is because I thought I could coerce the bartender—the very same one who snuck me inside, and thanks to whom that entire disastrous meeting with Knight had happened— to give me a discount on my drink again.

But when I arrived, that particular bartender was not to be found.

He’d been replaced, which means I didn’t get my discount.

As for the recruiter, I’m sure she no longer works here, either.

Knight was livid enough to get them fired.

It’s my fault they're out of jobs. I hunch my shoulders. Can’t do anything right, can I?

I reach for my glass of whiskey—full-price, now that I have no way of getting a discount.

"You should have seen how quickly he got away from me once I said that. I guess it was one way to ensure he never wants to see me again." I take a sip, and the liquor leaves a warmth in its wake. It’s thanks to my Dad that I developed a taste for whiskey. My earliest memories are him and my ma sitting on the patio in the evenings after dinner, each of them nursing a drink of their choice. My Dad’s was always a whiskey, and my mother’s a white wine.

They’d sit on the swing, and I’d sit at a table on the other end of the patio.

I’d work on my homework, and they’d catch each other up on the day’s happenings.

Their voices would be a hum in the background, along with the buzz of crickets and other insects in the fields surrounding our home in Gainesville, Florida.

As the night drew in and it got chillier, one or the other of them would urge me to go inside and finish the rest of my assignments.

I’d ignore them until my father would come over and lead me inside the house.

I could never say no to him. I was my father’s daughter in every way.

As I grew older, my relationships with my parents grew deeper.

We were a unit, the three of us, and outside of school, I hung out with them a lot.

Most teenagers rebel against their parents—me, I was more than happy to do as they wanted.

I liked spending time with them and found their discussions about movies and music so very interesting.

My father taught violin at the local community college, and my mother taught piano.

They were talented in their own right, and it’s what made me want to try my hand at the arts, too…

Only, I don’t have any such inherent aptitude to speak of.

I can’t sing—not even in the shower—play no musical instrument and have two left feet.

The only thing I was good at was typing…

Go figure. I could type really fast and won a few local competitions.

Clearly, my future would have something to do with a keyboard—just not the musical variety.

I turned my back on that particular talent.

I'd thought I could use my skills in the role of Knight’s assistant, but that's out. In fact, I can’t even use my body to earn money, if yesterday’s botched effort at being a submissive is anything to go by. Now, I'm really out of options.

Mira must see the desperation on my face, for she flattens her lips. "Shit, I really am sorry. I'm being indiscreet. I know how much you were hoping for that gig to work out—though you have to admit, it was a far shot."

I lower my chin. "No shit."

"I could loan you money, you know—"

I shake my head. "Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not taking money from you, or Abby, for that matter."

"So, I guess you’re not going to tell her about your run-in with her brother?"

I stare at her. "What do you think?"

"I guess you’re not going to do that but—" She stares over my shoulder and her gaze widens. "I think you might have to talk about it with Knight."

A tingle races down my spine. My pussy clenches. Strange, even his name seems to elicit a weird response from my lower regions.

I flick my hair over my shoulder. "Don’t say that bastard’s name in front of me. Once I told him I had my V-card, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough."

First, he took off his coat and placed it around my shoulders. Then, he walked me out of that room and to his waiting car, where he asked his chauffeur to drop me at home. I was too stunned by the speed of things to protest. Before I knew it, I was back at Mira’s apartment—and broke.

"He could have, at least, paid for my time," I take another sip of my whiskey.

"In fact, if I had taken a picture of his face with the expression he wore when I told him I was a virgin, I could have hawked it on the internet.

Or made T-shirts with the print of that picture and sold it on Etsy with the caption, 'How to shock a douchebag?

Show him your V-card.'" I trace a rectangle in the air with my fingers.

Mira swallows, her gaze trained over my shoulder. "Umm, Penny, I think you should—"

"Go ahead with it? I think so, too. Only, I didn’t take a picture of his face—"

"Probably because you were otherwise occupied," a voice says from behind me. A voice which is low enough that I shouldn’t have heard it over the conversation in the bar, but I do because… it’s his voice.

Heat sears my back. Now, I know why I have goosebumps all over my skin. I stare at Mira with horror.

She winces. "Sorry, babe, I tried to warn you."

"You could have thrown something at me, or knocked me out cold, or—" I squeeze my eyes shut. "I’m never going to live this down, am I?"

I sense her shaking her head. She touches my hand, then reaches over and asks, "Want me to stay for this?"

I manage to gather my wits about me, then crack open my eyes. "Go, please, and let me die quietly, on my own."

She has a worried look on her face. "Are you sure?"

The heat at my back turns up to furnace levels, and I know he’s moved closer. My scalp tingles. My toes curl. And all this, because I’m in his presence.

She glances up at the man standing behind me. "The only reason I’m leaving her alone with you is because you’re Abby’s brother and I know you won’t do anything to upset her best friend."

My cheeks catch fire. "Mira, please."

She continues to glare at him. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I wince. No, no, you can’t talk to that alphahole in that tone of voice. He’s going to say something hurtful to her and—

"I promise I won’t do anything—not without her consent.” He holds up his hand, palm face up.

She blinks. So do I.

We stare at each other, then I lean in toward her and whisper, "He used the 'c' word and I find that hot.” But I’d find it hotter if he took without consent. No, no, no I did not think that.

She cups her palm over her lips. "Real life is not like my spicy books,” she hisses back.

“I don’t read smut.” Only Dramione fan fiction. Something I’ve never told anyone and am not going to start now. "Bet he looks better than any fictional book boyfriend you’ve come across.”

She scowls. "He’s more like a villain."

“Now you know my catnip,” I murmur.

She gasps, "Oh, my god, you did not say that. Also, didn’t the two of you get off to a bad start?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That was then—” I pop my shoulder.

“Thought you didn’t like him,” she says in a suspicious tone.

“I don’t. But—I’m curious about him, you know? He intrigues me.” I glance sideways to find said grumphole dark-haired Draco fingering his phone. Lucky phone. What the—I am not envious of his stupid phone. Am not. He meets my gaze and I look away.

“I’m not comfortable leaving you alone with him.” Mira chews on her lower lip.

“I’ll be fine.” I pat her shoulder. “He’s Abby’s brother and he dotes on her. He’s not going to hurt her friend in any way and risk her wrath.”

“Hmm.” Her frown deepens.

“No, no more hmm’ing. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Also”—I gesture to the bar—“we’re not alone.”

She doesn’t look happy, but nods. “You’d better text me when you are on your way home. If you don’t, I’ll be calling the cops.”

“Okay, mother.” I hug her. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

"Always, babe." She glances up at the man who’s been standing quietly. “I’m going to leave now, but remember, if anything happens to her, if you so much as upset her, you’ll have me to contend with.

Also, I have the cops on speed dial, and if she doesn’t message me to tell me she’s on her way home in a few hours, I’m calling them.

” She jerks her chin in the now-silent Knight’s direction, then back at me. “Don’t forget to text me.”

Silent Knight? Yeesh, my mind is totally going around in circles. "I will, promise.”

She slides off the barstool, grabs her bag, and with a last warning glare at Knight, she leaves.

I stay where I am. So does he. The seconds stretch.

No move from him. Around us, the noise in the bar turns up a notch.

There are groups of men with ties-loosened, shooting the breeze.

A couple who are eye-fucking each other sits at one of the tables.

At another, two women are holding hands and smiling at each other, and a group of four at another table burst into laughter.

Jackets have been flung over chairs and bags dropped to the floor as everyone lets off steam after the day’s efforts. I’d do anything to join their tribe.

To get a job, and bank that monthly check has never felt more out of my reach.

My nose tickles, and a pressure builds behind my eyes.

Stupid, stupid. I’m not going to cry, and definitely not when he’s hovering behind me like some angel of death.

I snatch up my glass of whiskey, drain it, then gesture to the bartender.

He reaches over with a bottle of whiskey to top me up, only to glance over my shoulder.

He pales, takes a step back, and another, then spins around on his heels and walks off.

"Hey, stop, where are you—" I gasp, for he brushes past me. And he hasn't even touched me. All that happens is he disturbs the air around me, but tell that to all the cells in my body that sit up and take notice. Knight slips onto the barstool vacated by Mira.

I don’t look at him. I stare straight ahead.

Maybe if I keep quiet, he’ll leave. Do I want him to leave?

Yes, I do. I don’t want to see him again.

So, why is all my attention focused on him?

We stay like that for a few seconds more, then he leans in toward me.

I flinch, but all he does is grab the seat of my barstool and spin it, so I’m turned toward him.

I draw in a sharp breath, and that familiar sea breeze and pepper scent of his laces my nostrils.

Oh, my god. I smelled him yesterday, too, but I was so worried about how I was going to hold up, and so distracted by what he was doing to me, that I shoved it aside.

But knowing he’s seated right next to me seems to amplify the impact of his scent on my body.

My nipples pebble, and that yawning emptiness between my legs seems to multiply ten-fold.

He’s cast a net over me. The more I struggle, the more I seem to entangle myself in it.

I keep my gaze focused on his chest—his broad chest clad in the usual black sweatshirt, which stretches across those massive shoulders.

He’s so big, I can’t see around him. His presence is so potent, the rest of the world might as well have vanished.

He draws in a breath and the muscles under his sweatshirt ripple.

Then he leans in so his thighs bracket mine.

The emptiness between my legs is replaced by a throbbing heaviness.

He pinches my chin, so I have no choice but to look up at him.

My gaze meets his piercing green gaze, and a trembling grips me.

Gah, stop it. You should slap his face for the way he retreated from you so quickly yesterday.

I open my mouth, but he speaks first, "I have a proposition for you."