Page 324 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Penny

"He sure seems nervous," Mira peeks out through the door of the dressing room adjoining the main ceremony room where I’m standing at the town hall in Islington.

Sir and nervous? I snort. "He’s probably devising new ways to make my life miserable, is all."

Mira shoots me a curious glance. "Is that code for—" she stabs her forefinger through the hole created by bringing her forefinger and thumb of her other hand together.

I roll my eyes. It’s been four days since he proposed.

Four days since he went down on bended knee and proposed with words that sounded so heartfelt, it’s no wonder Mira has stars in her eyes.

I, too, would have been taken in by it. I confess, I was taken in by what he said.

Only, before I could ask him about it, he hustled me out into the car, then become immersed in his phone so I couldn’t really ask him for clarification.

When we reached his penthouse, he guided me to one of the guest rooms on the opposite side of the corridor from his room.

Tiny bounded in after me. Knight hesitated, then glared at the dog, who panted and happily parked himself at my feet.

I gripped Tiny’s collar and stared back at Knight.

He firmed his lips, then nodded, as if coming to a decision.

He told me the kitchen was stocked and I could order anything I wanted to eat from the app on my phone.

He also said that he’d arrange to pay for the food.

Then, he thrust something into my hands, which turned out to be his platinum credit card, before he stepped back and left.

I haven’t seen him since. Not when Abby threw me an impromptu bridal shower at her place, not when I came into the office to continue with my job—he didn’t tell me not to work, and if I didn’t have a place to go to each day, I’d go crazy twiddling my thumbs—not when I lingered around at lunch time—which he now allows me to take as a break because I might be pregnant—and after work, trying to catch a glimpse of him on the floor.

That is, until the receptionist sweetly informed me that Mr. Warren is away on a business trip for the next four days.

That bastard! I am his assistant. I’m the first person he should inform about his plans, but he didn’t bother to update me. Not a text message. Nothing! Nada. Argh! He didn’t ask me to cancel his meetings for the week—no, he did it himself. He went to the extreme to cease all communication with me.

At first, it made me a little mad, then a little sad to realize I wouldn’t be able to talk to him before the wedding. That is, until the wives and girlfriends of the Seven and the Sovranos and their friends descended on me.

Karma came, weighted down with dresses for me to try on.

Summer brought along Rachel—a wedding planner who’s worked with Isla—to help me with organizing the event.

Mira commandeered Knight’s black Amex and ordered enough food for us and Tiny, along with enough champagne to make us all very happy.

Yep, the bosshole left his credit card, with instructions for me to use it as needed.

I balked at that, but Mira had no such compunctions.

Then there was Abby, who beamed from ear to ear and refused to listen when I told her the wedding was fake.

Apparently, my closest friends, too, want to buy into the notion that we are in love and getting married, so much so, that a part of me began to believe in the story. Especially when I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom and saw the gorgeous creation Karma had made for me.

Now, I glance down at the gorgeous champagne-pink colored gown that clings to my curves with a fishtail train that spreads out behind me. Not as elaborate as the train on the Princess of Wales’ wedding dress, but also, not too short as to be insignificant.

The dress has a high neckline and long, sheer sleeves, but it’s the second skin effect with the nude underlay that I love.

When I move it gives the impression that I’m not wearing anything underneath the lace, and the back?

Well, there is no back. The neckline plunges all the way to the cleavage between my ass-cheeks.

It stops short of being obscene. Barely.

Also, she carefully stitched in some of the lace I’d carefully cut from my mother’s bridal gown, so it made me feel close to her.

I’d wanted my mother to attend, but when I went to tell her about my upcoming nuptials, I found her in a state of agitation.

That's what I get for visiting her after dinner.

She became very upset upon seeing me and burst into tears.

When I tried to calm her, she pushed me away and started yelling.

Eventually, Sunita stepped in and, by calmly talking to her, managed to assuage her agitation.

Once my mother was otherwise occupied, Sunita indicated I should leave while she was distracted.

I haven’t had the courage to go back to the nursing home.

It's not that I worry about her being angry with me. I just hate to see her that way. The fact that she probably forgot all about me as soon I left is what hurts the most. Can you blame me for throwing myself into the day-to-day work of the office? Which was much easier, since the bosshole wasn’t around, but also a little boring, if I'm being honest. As since I'm being honest, I must admit I’ve been dying for a glimpse of my bridegroom.

I know he didn't have any kind of bachelor party, and in fact, only flew in this morning.

Abby told me he was coming to his wedding straight from the airport.

I also know he’s in the ceremony room up ahead—because I’ve had these little tingles pulsing under my skin, which only happens when he's nearby. A-n-d that’s the sad thing.

I hate this man, but I'm so attracted to him. I may have slept with him, but instead of getting him out of my system, it’s only primed me, so I want more of him.

Which makes sense, in a way. I was foolish to think I could get him out of my system by sleeping with him.

He was my first, and I was bound to develop feelings for him.

But I didn't anticipate that the physical draw to him would continue to grow.

And the enforced absence of the past week has made me so mad at him, and that has only fueled my desire.

Bet it's all part of some evil plan to make me desire him further.

Bet he's trying to show me I’ll never be rid of thoughts of him, the images of how he fucked me, how I wanted him to destroy my pussy again, how—I love to hate him.

My core clenches, and my thighs tremble.

I shuffle my feet to try to release the pressure between my legs.

"You okay?" Mira murmurs. She’s wearing a pantsuit, also pink, that shows off her figure. That was my only criteria for her and Abby and Solene. They could wear anything, as long as it was pink. Abby’s wearing a dress with a sweet-heart neckline, and Solene’s wearing a pink, leather mini-dress with berry-red, over-the-knees boots with seven-inch high heels, which confirm she's a world-famous popstar.

Between Solene and Declan, they created quite a stir when they walked up the steps of the Town Hall.

Of course, this being London, people were too polite to approach them, but there were enough girls holding up their phones to record their entry, albeit from a distance.

Now, Abby turns to me and says, "You ready? "

I shake my head.

Her gaze softens, she closes the distance, and takes my hand in hers. "Can I confess something? When I asked you to find Knight a wife, I secretly hoped he’d come to his senses and realize you were the woman he’s been looking for."

"You did?" I gape.

"The only person I mentioned my plan to was Cade. No secrets from my husband.” She chuckles.

“And the one person I couldn’t breathe a word to was Knight.

If he’d found out, he’d have made things very difficult.

I knew I was being wishful. I wanted us to be sisters, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

So, when you told me Knight had asked you to marry him, imagine how floored I was. "

"Me, too," I murmur.

She searches my features. "I’m aware the circumstances of him asking you to be his wife aren’t ideal. I know he probably did it because he's under a deadline—"

I wince.

She tightens her grip on my hands, "—but trust me when I say, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to him."

"And me? What about me?"

"He’s not easy to get along with—I’ll be the first to admit that—but he’s a man of his word. If he’s marrying you, it’s for keeps. If he’s taking his vows, he’ll do everything in his power to abide by them. Also—" She glances away, then back at me. "Also, he has feelings for you."

"Yeah, we both want to murder each other," I say dryly.

She laughs. "Relationships have been built on less. Look at me and Cade. He wanted revenge for what I did to him when we were younger. I swear, that man made my life miserable, but when I needed help, he was the only one I could turn to, and then—"

"Oh, they’re ready for you," Mira exclaims.

"This is it, babe." Solene grins at me.

My heart seems to stop, then starts up at such a heightened pace, my breath catches. The blood drains from my face and I sway.

"Hey, hey." Abby wraps her arm around me; so does Mira. Bracketed between two of my friends, I grip the bouquet of blue feathers I opted for instead of a traditional bridal bouquet. Blue because I needed something blue.

"Deep breaths," a new voice commands.

I glance up to find a gorgeous woman wearing a dress that clings to her every curve, with a matching jacket, hair piled on top of her head, and pencil-thin stilettos marching into the room. "I’m Giorgina, and I came to find out what the hold-up is about."

"Hey, Gio." Solene tips up her chin. Her tone is cautious. The two women—who could not be more opposite in the way they’re dressed—eye each other up.

"Nice get up; goes with the image," Gio offers.

"Nice dress; a step up from your usual Barbie Doll outfit." Solene smirks.

The two chuckle, then move toward each other and embrace. Solene steps back. “Gio, meet the bride, Penny, one of my closest friends.” Solene dips her chin in my direction. “Penny, Giorgina used to be Declan’s manager in LA, but she’s moving to London.”

Gio turns to me and her features soften. “I realize we don’t know each other but I’m privileged to be here on your special day.”

“I can do with all the support I can get.” I curve my lips and paste on my trademark smile.

My fake smile. The one which convinces everyone that everything is fine with me.

Everyone but me... And Knight. He’s the only one who can look through my false cheer.

The only one who demands I be honest with him, when he himself never is.

The only man who knows the real me asked me to marry him.

In a way, this should be a perfect match; only, it isn’t.

Because it’s all fake. His proposal, his reason for asking me to be his wife.

All of it is as fake as my smile. I straighten my lips.

Perhaps if I hadn’t pretended everything was fine things wouldn’t have come to this stage?

“Good thing Rachel booked the largest room in city hall to accommodate everyone,” Mira chirps.

“Eh?” I blink.

“This is the only room in the place which can accommodate up to fifty people, it was smart thinking on Rachel’s part to have booked it given the number of people attending your wedding has increased,” she explains.

Solene turns to Giorgina. "When did you get in from LA?"

"This morning. I flew in with Knight."

"You did?" I frown.

She tilts her head. "It was coincidence that we were leaving around the same time. Also, I can’t say no to flying private. Beats commercial, any day," she sniffs.

I narrow my gaze. "You and Knight—"

"—have never met before. I’m here because I lost a bet to Rick, who insisted I accompany him to your wedding. Not that I have anything against you."

"You’re against weddings?"

She looks at me with respect. "You catch on fast."

Except when it comes to Sir Bosshole, apparently.

I should have cut my losses and found a way to pay off the money I owe him.

Instead, I seem to be caught deeper in the web he’s spun around me.

It’s almost like he’s trying every way possible to bind me to him and make it difficult for me to escape him.

Including not using a condom when he fucked me.

Did he do that on purpose? I blink. Nah, not possible.

He wouldn’t have, would he? On the other hand, what if he did it subconsciously?

What if he really does care about me but can't admit it, even to himself?

"Oh, hold on, I have something for you." Giorgina dips into her handbag, then comes up with a brooch.

"It belonged to my grandmother, who had a very happy marriage—unlike my own mother. And since I’m never going to get married, I thought you should have it.

" She nods in the direction of my dress. “May I?”

I nod. She pins it to the front of my dress.

"Oh, it’s beautiful." I touch the piece, which is in the shape of a feather—and studded with tiny blue stones.

"It goes with your bouquet." She nods toward the bunch I’m clutching.

"It does!" I exclaim.

"It was meant to be," she says in a pleased tone, “and—"

"Ladies, we’re very late." A harried woman in an emerald-green dress hustles in. Rachel’s been a godsend.

She worked with Isla on the weddings of the Seven, and the experience shows.

She made sure to consult me at every turn, putting together the wedding ceremony and the reception afterward.

I told her to do as she pleased, but she insisted on having my input.

And now, I’m grateful for it. What if the only wedding in my life is this fake wedding?

What if I never find the man who’s supposed to be the one?

What if Sir is the one? The band around my chest begins to tighten again, and my head spins.

This time, it’s Gio who grips my shoulders.

"Woman, you need to go out there and show him he can’t get the better of you. "

I swallow.

"You can’t let these men overpower you. You need to show him you have the firepower in you to stand toe-to-toe with him. You need to hold your own and make him respect you. You need to draw the line—here, now, this moment—and show him he’s underestimated you."

I glance between her eyes. Apparently, it took a stranger to read between the lines and realize not everything is as it seems on the surface.

It took someone who doesn’t know me to call me on my bluff and tell me I need to stand my ground.

To find the courage to go through with this without losing face.

To believe in myself. I draw in a shuddering breath, then nod.

"Good.” Her features light up. “Ready to make this wedding your bitch?"