Page 79 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

She stares at me from behind those large glasses that should make her look owlish and studious, but only add an edge of what I can only describe as quirky-sexiness.

The few times I’ve met her before, she’s gotten on my nerves so much, I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from her.

Now, giving her the full benefit of my attention, I realize, she’s actually quite striking.

And the addition of those spectacles? Fuck me—I never thought I had a weakness for women wearing glasses.

Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe it’s specifically this woman wearing glasses…

Preferably only glasses and nothing else.

Hmm. Interesting. This reaction to her. It’s unwarranted and not something I planned for. I widen my stance, mainly to accommodate the thickness between my legs. An inconvenience… which perhaps I can use to my benefit? I drag my thumb under my lower lip.

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and if I’m not mistaken, her breath hitches. Very interesting. Has she always reacted to me like that in the past? Nope, I would’ve noticed. We’ve always tried to have as little as possible to do with each other. Like I said, interesting. And unusual.

"First," —she drums her fingers on the table— "are you going to answer my question?"

I tilt my head, the makings of an idea buzzing through my synapses.

I need a little time to flesh things out though.

It’s the only reason I deign to answer her question which, let’s face it, I have no obligation to respond to.

But for the moment, it’s in my interest to humor her and buy myself a little time.

"Lila and I are well-matched in every way. We come from good families?—"

"You mean rich families?"

"That, too. Our families move in the same circles."

"Don’t you mean boring country clubs?" she says in a voice that drips with distaste.

I frown. "Among other places. We have the pedigree, the bloodline, our backgrounds are congruent, and we’d be able to fold into an arrangement of coexistence with the least amount of disruption on either side."

"Sounds like you’re arranging a merger."

"A takeover, but what-fucking-ever." I raise a shoulder.

Her scowl deepens. "This is how you approached the upcoming wedding... And you wonder why Lila left you?"

"I gave her the biggest ring money could buy?—"

"You didn’t make an appearance at the engagement party."

"I signed off on all the costs related to the upcoming nuptials?—"

"Your own engagement party. You didn’t come to it.

You left her alone to face her family and friends.

" Her tone rises. Her cheeks are flushed. You’d think she was talking about her own wedding, not that of her friend.

In fact, it’s more entertaining to talk to her than discuss business matters with my employees. How interesting.

"You also didn’t show up for most of the rehearsals." She glowers.

"I did show up for the last one."

"Not that it made any difference. You were either checking your watch and indicating that it was time for you to leave, or you were glowering at the plans being discussed."

"I still agreed to that god-awful wedding cake, didn’t I?

"On the other hand, it’s probably good you didn’t come for the previous rehearsals. If you had, Lila and I might have had this conversation earlier?—"

"Aha!" I straighten. "So, you confess that it’s because of you Lila walked away from this wedding."

She tips her head back. "Hardly. It’s because of you."

"So you say, but your guilt is written large on your face."

"Guilt?" Her features flush. The color brings out the dewy hue of her skin, and the blue of her eyes deepens until they remind me of forget-me-nots. No, more like the royal blue of the ink that spilled onto my paper the first time I attempted to write with a fountain pen.

"The only person here who should feel guilty is you, for attempting to coerce an innocent, young woman into an arrangement that would have trapped her for life."

Anger thuds at my temples. My pulse begins to race.

"I never have to coerce women. And what you call being trapped is what most women call security. But clearly, you wouldn’t know that, considering" —I wave my hand in the air— "you prefer to run your kitchen-table business which, no doubt, barely makes ends meet. "

She loosens her grip on her pencil, and it falls to the table with a clatter. Sparks flash deep in her eyes.

You know what I said earlier about the royal blue?

Strike that. There are flickers of silver hidden in the depths of her gaze.

Flickers that blaze when she’s upset. How would it be to push her over the edge?

To be at the receiving end of all that passion, that fervor, that ardor…

that absolute avidness of existence when she’s one with the moment?

How would it feel to rein in her spirit, absorb it, drink from it, revel in it, and use it to spark color into my life?

"Kitchen-table business?" She makes a growling sound under her breath. "You dare come into my office and insult my enterprise? The company I have grown all by myself?—"

"And outside of your assistant" —I nod toward the door I came through— "you’re the sole employee, I take it?"

Her color deepens. "I work with a group of vendors?—"

I scoff, "None of whom you could hold accountable when they don’t deliver."

"—who have been carefully vetted to ensure that they always deliver," she says at the same time. "Anyway, why do you care, since you don’t have a wedding to go to?"

"That’s where you’re wrong." I peel back my lips. "I’m not going to be labeled as the joke of the century. After all, the media labelled it 'the wedding of the century’." I make air quotes with my fingers.

It was Isla’s idea to build up the wedding with the media.

She also wanted to invite influencers from all walks of life to attend, but I have no interest in turning my nuptials into a circus.

So, I vetoed the idea of journalists attending in person.

I have, however, agreed to the event being recorded by professionals and exclusive clips being shared with the media and the influencers.

This way, we’ll get the necessary PR coverage, without the media being physically present.

In all fairness, the publicity generated by the upcoming nuptials has already been beneficial.

It’s not like I’ll ever tell her, but Isla was right to feed the public’s interest in the upcoming event.

Apparently, not even the most hard-nosed investors can resist the warm, fuzzy feelings that a marriage invokes.

And this can only help with the IPO I have planned for the most important company in my portfolio. "I have a lot riding on this wedding."

"Too bad you don’t have a bride."

"Ah," —I smirk— "but I do."

She scowls. "No, you don’t. Lila?—"

"I’m not talking about her."

"Then who are you talking about?"

"You."

To find out what happens next read Liam and Isla’s fake relationship romance in The Proposal where Tiny first makes an appearance, click here

read Michael and Karma’s forced marriage romance in Mafia King here

Want to find out the origins of The Sp!cy Booktok ? Read The Unwanted wife - Skylar it’s my whole life.

What I've worked toward since I was sixteen and knew I was going to become the most phenomenal baker in the world. And now, I'm going to lose it.

“Sure, you can do it.” My brother encourages me from the doorway. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“That’s what I used to think. It’s why I started this pastry shop.” I was twelve when I discovered I was good at baking. That, combined with my love for desserts, meant I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Two years ago, I moved to London to work at a well-known patisserie. I began scouting for a location for my place while I saved every single penny I could.

A year ago, I found the perfect place, and my little artisan bakery with coffee shop seating was born.

Of course, I work eighteen-hour workdays, which means I have almost no social life.

I barely manage a few hours of sleep in my little apartment over the shop.

But nothing can dampen my spirits. I’m spending my days churning out cakes and pastries.

It’s what I’ve dreamed of for so long. Only issue?

I don’t have the money to advertise, and despite having a social media post go viral—which is when a lot of people look at your social media feed—and result in a surge of customers, I'm not making enough to salvage my business.

“Don’t give up. You have to believe this can take off.” Ben’s voice is confident. If only I shared his optimism.

“Oh, trust me, I want to believe. But blind faith in yourself only takes you so far.” I wish I could do better at spreading the word about the place and bringing in new customers. I seem to suck at everything outside of baking. It’s why my business is on the decline.

“Success is what’s beyond the dark night of the soul,” my brother, ever the wise one, remarks.

“Is that a saying among you Royal Marines?” I scoff.

“It’s—"

The bell over the door at the front of the shop tinkles.

“—your destiny.” His lips curve in a smile.

“What?” I blink.

“The bell—it’s your future calling.”

I roll my eyes. “If you say so.”