The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 33

Chapter 28-1

Zara

An hour later, we’re sitting on sofa bed cushions on my floor, surrounded by cartons of Chinese takeaway. This has happened because Locke took one look inside my fridge, discovered a bagged salad and a bottle of white wine, and apparently decided immediate intervention was required.

“You’re not eating lettuce for dinner,” he said as ke scrolled through the menu on his phone. “And I’m sure as hell not.”

“It has nutritional value.”

green.”

The ridiculousness of the conversation comes back to me now as I shovel dumplings into my mouth, and try to stop Locke from stealing the last spring roll, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m smiling.

“It has sadness.” He paid for the food, and stared at me. “It’s a cry for help dressed in wilted

Like, really smiling. Not forcing it, and not performing it. Just… happy.

The realization catches me off guard, because today has objectively been pretty shit, from beginning to end. The full day of body blows as we worked through the web of club financials that has ensnared me, and then Knox finding me and hurting me. In less than one minute, he reminded me exactly why I left my marriage.

And yet somehow I’m sitting on my living room floor eating noodles with a man who looks like he should be taking down drug cartels, instead of stealing spring rolls and drinking cheap wine. The contradiction feels impossible… and also perfect.

I point my chopsticks at him now. “You’re very judgmental about salad.”

He steals one of my dumplings. “I’m very right about it, you mean.”

I gasp. “That was mine. My dumpling.”

“You weren’t eating it and it was getting cold.”

I stare at his expression of angelic innocence and then I burst into laughter. The second the sound leaves me, something changes in his eyes, just enough to make me realize that he’s been watching for it. Waiting for it. As though hearing me laugh matters to him.

Hours pass this way. The city darkens outside. Rain taps against the window. The food disappears. The conversation drifts. Sometimes serious, sometimes not.

At one point he tells me a story about sleeping in the back of a truck during a blizzard somewhere in Montana, and I spend five full minutes trying to determine whether he’s joking. Turns out, he’s not.

At another point, he stares hard at my bruised cheek and immediately frowns. It comes to me that I like that frown, I like the fact that he notices things about me.

Mostly, I like how natural all of this feels, because it shouldn’t, really. I’ve known him for two days. Two damn days. And yet somehow the apartment feels different with him inside it. Safer. Warmer. Definitely more fun.

112

Chapter 284.

Clam

Eventually, the conversation fades and the room grows quieter. Outside, traffic hums softly beyond the window, inside, it’s just us. We clean up the food containers, and pour the last of the wine into our glasses. I wash my hands, and then turn to find Locke sitting on the sofa bed, his huge arm stretched along the

back of it.

I look across the tiny space, and I become very aware of him, and of the fact that the time to go to bed is fast approaching, and that he’s actually staying here. With me. Not because he’s after anything, or because he’s waiting for something. He’s staying here because he promised that he’d keep me safe.

The knowledge settles heavily in my chest, and suddenly I don’t know where to look or what to do. To cover my confusion, I take a big gulp of wine, then look at him again..

Mistake. Fatal fucking mistake.

His gaze finds mine…. and holds. The silence stretches, and it’s heavy and meaningful. The kind of silence that feels like we’re standing on the edge of something.

And despite myself, I think about Knox, and how terrified I was as I ran up the stairs and locked myself inside. About dialing Locke’s number without even hesitating, and most of all, I think about the fact that he

came.

No pause. No questions. No conditions.

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