Page 74 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

I want to march over, haul her into my arms, and press her up against my chest until every hard, angry breath she takes syncs with mine.

The bastard she’s talking to stands there, eyes downcast, wearing the dumb, apologetic expression of a man who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. I want to rip his head off. Want to put myself between them like a damn human shield.

I’m lurking at the entrance to her office, which adjoins mine. I listen in on her conversation because, apparently, she also turns me into someone who lacks basic courtesy. Because where Lark Monroe is concerned, I can’t help but get involved.

She’s going to be furious I didn't even afford her the privacy of not watching her personal life implode. Because I am the only person who can save her from the disappointment that’s so palpable, it shimmers off her like rays of light bouncing off a windshield.

I’ve made her exasperated. I’ve pushed her to the edge with impossible deadlines, outrageous demands, tight turnarounds. I’ve gotten my twisted kicks watching her struggle, fluster, then pull off the impossible with a silent glare and a twitch of those arched brows.

But this isn’t one of those moments.

This isn’t a game.

This is personal.

To hear someone else be the reason she sounds so upset draws a line of fire through my veins. No one gets to draw such extreme emotion from her but me.

I’ve never hated anyone more than I hate the man standing in front of her, breaking her heart in the most humiliating way possible.

"You’ve turned me into a living cliché.” Her voice cracks, raw with betrayal.

Something primal snarls awake inside me.

Because Lark is my employee. She’s mine to protect. Mine to comfort. Mine. I’m done pretending otherwise.

I stalk inside her office. The two are so caught up in their drama, they don’t notice me.

"You have some nerve, telling me that you’re in love with my bridesmaid and want to marry her instead of me. Ugh!" She digs her fingers through the hair piled up on top of her head.

The pencil she stabbed through the rich blonde mass to hold it up slides to the ground. Her hair comes tumbling down. I freeze.

She was about to get married?

My personal assistant, who I speak to more times a day than anyone else—yes, it's largely by email, but still, I type out her name more than anyone else’s—was on the verge of getting hitched? How was I not aware?

If she gets married, who'll take care of the day-to-day operations of my business?

Yes, that’s a selfish thought, but I'm a CEO. My company takes priority. And she’s invaluable to my company. Ergo, she’s invaluable to me. Only because I care about the bottom line of my business, of course.

I take another step forward.

I’m aware of the exact moment Lark notices me, for her entire body snaps to attention. Her spine turns even more rigid. I’ve noticed how on edge she gets around me.

At first, I thought it was because I overwhelmed her—because the weight of my presence, my authority, was too much for her.

But I see it now. It’s not intimidation. It’s awareness. Acute. Unavoidable. Electric.

That hum I keep brushing off—the one I feel every time we share air—isn’t about her being unnerved by the control I carry.

It’s the current between us. Chemistry, sharp as static electricity.

She feels it just as much as I do. And it’s not fear I see in her eyes—it’s recognition. Of me. Of this.

She angles her body slightly away from the stranger and in my direction. As if she’s seeking my help?

She’s doing it unconsciously, not aware of the plea for help she’s sending out. Unable to resist, I draw abreast and wrap my arm about her waist.

I sense the shock ripple through her. She stiffens, growing so still, she could be mistaken for a pillar of stone.

"How dare you walk in here and insult her?" I glare at the man opposite.

He grows so pale, I wonder if he’s going to puke.

What a pussy. And this…this sorry excuse for a human was the person she was going to marry.

Seriously, she could do better. Much, much better.

In fact, I can’t think of anyone who’d make a good husband for her.

She’s incomparable. There’s no one who’d be good enough for her.

"Wh-Who’re you?" The other man swallows.

"I’m her boss."

As if the sound of my voice pulls her out of her reverie, Lark tries to pull away.

I tighten my arm around her and hold her in place. "I’m also the man who’s madly in love with her."

What the— Where did that come from? I did want to say or do something that’d wipe that smug expression off his face, but…

"Love?" The other man’s jaw drops.

"Love?" She jerks her chin in my direction. The shock on her face is almost comical. Only, it’s followed by panic and horror. Is the thought of my being in love with her such a terrible thought?

I glance down at her angelic face. "Yes, baby. I’m sorry if this comes as a surprise. But from the moment I saw you, I knew there was no one else for me."

"Wh-what?"

She draws in a breath. Another. Opens her mouth to, no doubt, protest, so I place a finger over her mouth.

"Shh, it’s okay darling. I understand how overwhelming this must be for you.

But I want you. I understand your value in my life.

Unlike this clown." I aim a disgusted look at him before looking back into her eyes. "I can’t do without you, sweetheart."

She makes a gurgling sound. Her eyes behind her specs grow so big, they seem to fill her face.

"I want you to come home with me, so I can introduce you to my family."

She blinks rapidly, her face growing a shade of pink which is, frankly, adorable. Then she seems to pull herself together and scowls. "This is not funny," she hisses under her breath.

"No, it’s not." I shoot an angry sideways glance at the asshole who’s staring at us. "I should bash this wanker’s head in for the grief he's caused you."

"Why are you making fun of my predicament?" She makes this growling noise at the back of her throat, which makes her sound like an angry kitten. She’s so darn cute. Best not let her know that’s what I’m thinking.

I say aloud, "I’m serious."

The expression in my eyes must back up my intent, for she blinks. "I have no idea what you’re up to, but it's completely inappropriate."

"Why would it be when I’m going to marry you?" Uh… Okay… Didn’t know I was going to say that until this moment.

She gapes at me. "Did you fall down and knock your head? Is that why you’re spewing this crazy stuff at me?"

"Do I sound like I’m crazy?"

She searches my features and consternation filters into her expression. "You’re not making any sense. You’re my boss. I’m your assistant. You barely look at me, except for when there's work to be done. Even then, you barely seem to acknowledge my existence."

"Oh, I acknowledged your existence, all right. I just couldn’t let on to you how much it affected me.

After all, as you pointed out, I'm your boss. And I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

Besides, you were getting married, so what could I say?

But now that I know you're not, I can tell you the truth. I love you."

She shakes her head. "This is crazy."

“It is,” I murmur, my gaze locked on hers. “I’m crazily in love with you.”

The words hang there, shocking even me with how right they feel. I said them to mess with her head. To get under her skin. To make her ex wish he’d never drawn breath, let alone walked away from her. But now? Now, they feel real. And true.

Because, luckily for me, that asshole did walk.

And now she’s free.

Free—and mine.

Mine to help. Mine to protect. Mine to heal. That’s what I tell myself. What I need to believe. That I’m doing this only to take care of my employee. Which is all she is. Right?

She throws up her hands, eyes flaring. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this travesty.”

Her voice is sharp, but it’s the fire behind her words that slices straight through me. That fury. That fight. Something inside me fractures and reforms around it. Like a bone breaking just so it can heal stronger.

Maybe it’s this moment—this exact second—when I start falling for her for real.

“You’re right,” I say, voice low, deliberate.

She blinks. “I am?”

I nod slowly. “I need to show you how serious I am.”

I take her in like I’ve never seen her before—those lips that look too soft for someone who fights so hard, the rise and fall of her chest like she’s barely keeping it together. Her pulse flutters at the hollow of her throat—wild and erratic, like mine.

And even as I lean in—close enough to smell that unique feminine scent of hers—I know I shouldn’t be doing this. She’s just been wrecked. She’s vulnerable. And I’m walking straight into her life like I’ve got a right to fix everything for her.

But hell, maybe I do .

Because the second I walked in and saw the devastation in her eyes, I knew I’d do anything to erase it. I’d burn the world down if it meant she’d smile again.

Helping her through this breakup isn’t just the decent thing to do—it’s essential. I can’t have her falling apart on the job. She’s the backbone of my entire operation. But it’s more than that.

Because I’m going to make damn sure her ex knows what he lost when he walked away from her. That he let go of a goddess. And I’m the one lucky enough to see it now.

I lower my head.

Her gaze snaps to mine—wide, startled. She sees it. Feels it. The shift in the air. She knows what’s coming.

She realizes my intent a heartbeat before I close my mouth over hers.

Lark

He’s going to kiss me.

He’s going to kiss me.

H e is kissing me.