Page 325 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Knight

"You’re a bitch," Rick glares at me.

"So you’re getting drunk on your wedding night, is that it?"

"Nope." I shake my head. "I am already drunk." I lie. I’m halfway there, but semantics. I toss back the contents of the glass, this time barely feeling the warmth. I reach for the bottle, but Rick snatches it away. "Gimme that," I growl.

"Not until you tell me why you’re not with your wife on your wedding night."

"Or better still, on your honeymoon," Finn interjects from my other side, and I groan. "The two of you come as a package deal, is that it? Befriend one motherfucker, get two for free, is it?"

"You’re not going to drive us away with your infantile attempts at vexing us," Rick snaps.

"Oh?" I reach for the bottle of whiskey, but he slides it across the counter and to the other side.

"Talk, arsehole, or I’ll rip you another."

"You want me to talk? Fine." I snicker. "How about this? There once was a virile young Viking, whose sexual prowess was striking…"

Finn picks up the thread of my limerick. "He would plunder the asses, of hot Viking lasses…"

I interject with, "Each time he found one to his liking."

He holds up his palm, and I slap it.

Rick glowers at us. "And I thought you were here to knock some sense into his thick skull."

"If you can’t beat 'em." Finn shrugs. "Also, I have a softness—or is that a hardness—for filthy limericks." His grin widens. "How’s this? There once was a maiden from Ealing, who claimed to lack sexual feeling…"

"‘til a fellow named Norris…" I mutter.

"First found her clitoris…" he adds.

The two of us look at Rick with expectation. I’m sure he’s going to snap our heads off then, he blows out a breath. "And she had to be scraped off the ceiling," he says in a droll voice.

Finn barks out a laugh.

I can feel my lips stretch in a smile. I reach across and under the counter to feel around.

My fingers brush a bottle. I pull it out.

"Vodka, huh?" I uncap it, then swig a gulp straight from the bottle.

The alcohol content of this liquor is much stronger.

It tastes close to turpentine—expensive turpentine, but turpentine, nevertheless.

I swallow, and this time, when the liquid hits my stomach, a ball of heat seems to detonate in my belly.

My fingers and toes begin to tingle. Fucking finally.

"There once was a man from Nantucket…" Finn grins.

"Whose dick was so long he could suck it…" I mumble.

Rick reaches for the bottle of vodka I’m holding.

I take a sip, then pass it to him. He takes a sip, winces, then rolls his shoulders, before continuing, "He said with a grin, as he licked off his chin, if my—” He hesitates.

“Ugh." He frowns. “If my—” His forehead smoothens.

“If my ear was a cunt, I would fuck it."

Finn smirks, “Did you forget the ending, old man?"

He narrows his gaze on Finn. "I’m only ten years older than you."

"Descended from the Jurassic age, this one." Finn nods in Rick’s direction.

"That sounds like something she would say," I murmur, then stiffen when I hear my own words. Silence falls between us, then Finn reaches over and grabs the bottle from Rick. He takes a swig, coughs, then thumps his chest.

Rick snorts, "Too strong for you, knobhead?"

Finn wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. "There once was a man from Leeds, who swallowed a packet of seeds…"

"Within half an hour, his dick was a flower…" I add.

"And his balls were all covered with weeds." Rick laughs, then snatches up the bottle of vodka Finn tosses across. He takes a swig, then says in a droll voice. "You may think these limericks are crass and throw me a comment to sass."

"But I will agree, to some degree," I counter.

"And I’ll show you the crack of my ass." Finn jumps off the barstool and does a mock bow. "Thank you. Thank you. Don’t all of you applaud at once."

Rick scoffs. I take the bottle of vodka from him, take a long drink from it, and another, and another.

By the time I plant the bottle on the countertop, my entire body is numb.

Everything except my heart, that is. The fucker’s been in a state since I slipped a ring onto her finger, then signed the paperwork at Town Hall, before turning away without a kiss.

Y-e-p, not only did I not kiss her, but I also haven’t spoken a word with her since the event.

Not when our friends crowded around us and congratulated us.

Not when Abby glared at me and hissed that she’d kill me if I didn’t treat her friend the way she deserved.

Not when Cade gave me a funny look, or when Phillipe and JJ paused their conversation long enough to glare at me at lunch.

Not when Sinclair pulled me aside and told me I’d better not fuck this up.

Not when I went to the gents, and Michael hauled me forward before I finished pissing and threatened me with a fate worse than death if I didn’t get my shit together.

I zipped myself up, pulled away, and walked out of there.

I didn’t return to the lunch organized in honor of our wedding.

I headed to the 7A Club and wasn't surprised when Rick and Finn showed up shortly after. They told me the only reason the other men hadn’t come was because they’d managed to persuade them that the two of them would be enough to knock some sense into me.

Ha. Little do they know, that ship has sailed—since they tortured and killed my teammates, then abused me and left me to die, buried under six feet of mud and snow in the Tundra. If it hadn’t been for Adam, I’d never have made it out alive.

If it hadn’t been for Adam, I wouldn’t have married her, either.

Fucking Adam, who said he couldn’t attend the wedding of his best mate because he was too busy helping another veteran deal with the aftermath of a mission gone wrong.

Fucking do-gooder, couldn’t put a step wrong if he tried.

And now, when I need him most, where the fuck is he? I slide off the bar stool and sway.

"Whoa, ol’ chap." Rick grips my shoulder.

I shake him off. "I’m good." The words come out sounding like Ihhhmm goose.

"And I’m the gander." Finn grabs my arm.

I try to push him away, but motherfucker is one strong son of a bitch. He hooks his shoulder under my armpit, then nods in Rick’s direction. "Got him?"