Page 466 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Edward

"I don’t accept no for an answer," I growl.

Sinclair leans back in his chair. "Neither do I, old chap, but sometimes, the writing is on the wall."

"And this is one of those times," Knox says in that gravelly voice of his.

The sunshine streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminates every single dip and cranny of the scars on his face.

I can take credit for the newest one on his temple.

Not that it takes away from his appeal. If anything, it seems to have increased his popularity with the women-folk, most of whom tittered and stared at him as we walked through the maze of cubicles earlier.

Thankfully, my wife wasn't at her desk. She went out for an early lunch. I know this because I moved things around to make sure she was out when my half-brother prowled in, along with my best friend. Now that I’ve shut Baron out of my circle, and because, except for Sinclair, the rest of the Seven are either traveling for work or with their family, I’ve found myself spending more time with him.

Given the joint history of the incident which binds us, there’s a level of trust I share with Sinclair that should make this joint venture successful.

But of course, Knox—that douchebag—has his own interests to protect.

"If you’d bother to look at the figures, you’d see we turn a profit in twelve months," I snap.

"With losses for six of those.”

"The higher the risk, the higher the return." I shrug.

"Like your marriage?"

Anger squeezes my guts, my fingers tingle, and I curl them into fists and try to rein in the burn that eats through my veins. He’s trying to provoke me. I know that. I also know G-Pa is watching to see how I settle in—at work and with my new bride.

He called to say he'll be making an announcement soon, confirming my role as CEO, but he hasn’t mentioned when he’ll do it.

Meanwhile, Knox will use every dirty trick to show I'm not fit. And it's important to me to get my grandfather’s approval. My parents didn’t give two shits about me, whereas my grandfather—even if it had been for his own selfish needs—decided I'm his heir.

And I'm not going to fuck it up. I don’t need a shrink to tell me this only highlights another issue in my psyche.

In addition to the ones I already carry around, but whatever.

I have a right to this company, and I'm not letting go of it.

"Something you want to tell me?" I narrow my gaze on Knox.

He leans back in his seat and shrugs. "Not really."

"I do." Sinclair scowls at me. "Don’t be an arse, Ed. Don’t go making choices that will endanger the company when you’re not thinking clearly."

"Who said I’m not?" I lower my voice to a hush. Not that it has any impact on Sin. Motherfucker’s as alpha as they come.

"The fact that you’re here, instead of taking your gorgeous wife on a honeymoon, is enough of a giveaway that you’re not in the right space."

"Don’t fucking talk about my wife."

Knox flicks an imaginary piece of dust from his tailored jacket. "Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just stating what I see."

"What I see is a lost opportunity. I’m going to push this deal through, with or without you." I set my jaw.

Knox inclines his head. He doesn’t seem disturbed by my announcement. "Well then, my work here is done." He rises to his feet and nods at Sinclair. "Sterling." Then without another glance at me, he prowls toward the exit. He heads out, and the door snicks shut behind him.

"Why do I get the feeling there’s something up his sleeve?"

"Why do I get the feeling you’re about to commit career suicide?" Sinclair sighs.

"Don’t you trust my judgement?"

He scrutinizes my features. "Frankly, not in the state of mind you're in at the moment."

"Nothing’s wrong with my state of mind."

"It will be when you find out Knox is talking to your wife." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder.

I glance toward my computer screen, showing a live feed of her desk outside my office, and stiffen. He’s right; there’s Knox, leaning a hip at my wife’s desk. He says something, and Belle throws her head back and laughs.

He continues to talk, while she leans over to grab a paper and write on it.

He says something else, and she looks up at him with a soft expression about her eyes.

I gape. What the hell is happening? I look up at the window separating us, to be certain I'm not seeing things.

That's when she reaches out to touch his arm and—"What the fuck?

!" I jump up so quickly, my chair topples over.

I race out the door, and before she can withdraw her hand, I grab his arm and twist it, throwing him aside. "Get away from my wife."

"You are crazy, just crazy!" She fumes at me.

After I went caveman and pulled Knox away from her, he didn’t retaliate.

Much to my disgust, he smirked, dusted off his jacket, and left.

He didn’t say a word, but the smug glitter in his eyes told me I’d allowed him to provoke me again.

He turned and prowled off. Sinclair shook his head at me, told me to rethink the acquisition before I went through with it, then he asked Belle to take care of me and left.

I marched back into the office, and she followed.

I told her to leave; she’d planted her hands on her hips and scowled at me.

I mirrored her stance and glared back. She didn’t look away.

Interesting. My little Belle is finding her spine.

"I think you need to leave." I jerk my chin toward the door.

"I think you’re avoiding me," she bursts out.

"What gave you that idea?"

"The fact I haven’t seen you or spoken to you since our wedding night?"

"I’ve been busy." I shove my hand in my pocket. Technically, not a lie, because I’ve thrown myself into work.

"Too busy to spend time with your new wife?"

"New fake wife."

"Not so fake after you took my virginity." She tips up her chin.

"I told you, I’m not apologizing for it."

"I'm not looking for an apology, but you’re not talking to me, either."

"Did you expect me to whisper sweet nothings and tell you how gorgeous you look because"—I look her up and down, taking in the purple dress nipped in at the waist to accentuate her sumptuous figure—"you know you do."

She blushes. "I’m not looking for compliments."

"I’m making a statement."

She looks at me with confusion in her eyes. "Only you can deliver praise and look like you don’t mean it."

"But I do."

"I know you do, but your face—" She shakes her head. "The expression on your face says you don’t care."

"Because I don’t?" That's it, buddy, keep telling yourself that.

Her lips tighten. "You’re an asshole."

"And I can’t stop thinking about your other virgin hole."

Her color deepens. "I didn’t come in here to be insulted.

" She pivots and flounces toward the door. I slip my phone out of my pocket and swipe my finger across the screen. There’s a clicking sound.

When she reaches the door, she pushes at it, but it doesn’t open.

She turns and frowns at me. "Open this door. "

I yawn.

Her eyes flash silver blue lightning at me. "Edward, open the door," she says through gritted teeth.

"That’s not the name you used when I was inside you."

She swallows. "This is not funny, Ed."

"First, call me by the name only you do."

"You mean, douchewaffle?"

I almost allow myself a chuckle. Almost. My life is way more fucking entertaining when she’s around.

I can watch her all day—which I do, whenever I get the chance, anyway—and not be bored.

Every action of hers entrances me. Every word that comes out of her mouth enchants me.

Her scent bewitches me. Her curves captivate me.

Everything about her has held me in thrall since the day I first saw her.

Since she came into my life, it’s turned into a patchwork of technicolor.

I want to resist her, but my defenses are crumbling.

It’s pissing me off, but the more I try to put distance between us, the more thoughts of her invade my mind.

As for my body? Every part of me remembers how it felt to be buried inside her.

My cock thickens, and my thigh muscles harden.

I widen the space between my legs, then crook my finger at her. "Come 'ere."