The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 337

Chapter 165-1

Chapter 165-1

25 Point

two o’clock in the afternoon, the clubhouse party has settled into that loud, comfortable groove

that only happens when the MC is completely at peace.

The heavy wooden tables are covered in empty cake plates, crumpled wrapping paper, and discarded party hat ribbons. Near the pool table, Mayhem and Brick are locked in an aggressive match, arguing loudly over whether Brick scratched on a bank shot, while Bear and Stitch sit at the bar, watching sports on the overhead television and drinking cold draft beer.

I’m sitting in the deep leather couch near the stone fireplace, my boots kicked off, resting my feet on the low coffee table. The flower crown Jade gave me still sits comfortably on my head, and I

feel like a queen holding court.

Beside me, Jade is curled up in the corner of the sofa, a warm cup of herbal tea balanced on her knee, watching Mayhem threaten to snap his pool cue over his knee after missing an easy corner

pocket.

“He’s going to lose fifty bucks to Brick,” Jade laughs softly, shaking her head. “And he’s going to whine about it all the way home.”

From across the room, Locke approaches carrying two glasses of ice water. He stops in front of the couch, handing one glass to Jade and stepping around to sit down on the leather cushion right

beside me.

The moment he sits, his massive frame sinks into the cushions, and his massive arm comes up to rest naturally along the back of the sofa behind my shoulders.

I lean sideways into his chest, resting my head against his leather cut, breathing in the comforting scent that’s pure him. His hand comes down, resting over my shoulder, his fingers gently playing

with the ends of my hair.

“You look tired, baby,” Locke says softly against my ear.

“Good tired,” I correct, taking a slow sip of my ice water. “The kind of tired where your heart feels

too big for your chest.”

“They outdid themselves,” Locke says, looking out over the room at the brothers. “Apparently, Mayhem was here at six this morning blowing up balloons in the garage. Three of them popped and he nearly drew his sidearm, thinking he was under attack.”

I burst out laughing, my eyes watering at the image of my giant, tactical brother jumping out of his skin over a pink balloon. “Please tell me somebody caught that on the security cameras.”

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I open my mouth to respond, but Dad walks over. He sets a heavy, protective hand on my shoulder.

“Ah-ah,” he says, catching my eye with an authoritative look that leaves zero room for debate. “Don’t you even think about talking about work today, sweetheart. Not one word.”

“Dad…”

“I said no,” he interrupts softly, his voice dropping into that deep, immovable tone he uses when settling club disputes. “The corporate chemical company isn’t going anywhere. You’ve spent mont hs fighting for your life, Zara, and you’re not touching a single piece of paper or a computer until Monday morning at the absolute earliest.”

Mayhem turns around from the pool table, holding his cue like a staff. “Dad’s right, kiddo. You try to open a folder today and I’m personally locking it in the gun safe. You’re on mandatory vacation. Orders from the President.”

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