Page 38 of The Wrong Husband

“Only, the missions I cared about weren’t the ones the government prioritized. So, I became a private contractor, built my own team, and started funding the work I believe in—rescue operations, med tech for underserved areas, trauma relief in conflict zones.

“But even with the royalties from my patents, it’s not enough to save those who’d never show up on an official priority list.”

She curls her fingers around the step of her wineglass. "Is there a reason you’re telling me this?"

I lean forward.

"I’m funding a charity that provides medical treatment for children caught up in war and other disasters. I need access to my trust fund to make a difference."

A surprised look comes into her eyes. "A billionaire with a conscience? Who’d have thought."

"First"—I hold up a finger—"it’s my grandfather who’s a billionaire, not me. And second, I’m doing it for my own selfish reasons."

"Which are?"

I run a knuckle along my jaw, before letting my hand fall to my thigh.Hadn’t expected to have this discussion so soon. "I realized that money alone doesn’t guarantee happiness.”

Again, her gaze widens. She surveys my features as if trying to figure out if I’m telling her the truth, which I am. For once. After living a life undercover, it feels liberating to share my thoughts without having to hide.

"You’re a spy who moonlights as a CEO?"

I raise a shoulder.

"I’m also a qualified biochemist. It provided a front for the missions I undertook in the field."

She shakes her head. "You don’t choose the easy route, do you?"

I chuckle. "Wouldn’t be sitting here if I did."

"Hmm." There’s a pleased look in her eyes, again, quickly banked. "So, you have a pet project—a mission to save children—for which you need money."

"Alotof money. Which I can access through my portion of the Davenport fortune."

"So, what’s the problem?"

"The problem is… I can only access my trust fund when I get married."

She blinks. Color flushes her cheeks. She wriggles around in her seat, looking half-ready to leave, but she doesn’t. A fighter. Someone who isn’t scared off easily. Damn. My heart gives a big thump in my chest. My balls tighten further. This perfect harmony between the emotional and the carnal in response to her is an irresistible seduction of my senses.

"And what’s that got to do with me?" she asks slowly.

I meet her gaze head-on, my voice steady. "I want you to be my wife."

14

Phoenix

My hand jerks, and my fingers slip on my wineglass, which tips over. The wine blots the tablecloth. Before I can react, he reaches over and straightens my glass, then drops his napkin over the spill.

I look from it to his face, suddenly breathless. "I don’t think I heard you right…" I clear my throat. "Did you say?—"

"Marry me." His voice is light, but his tone is intent.

"What?" I cough. "What are you talking about?"

"It would help the both of us."

My head spins. "You’ll have to explain this to me slowly."