The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 54

Chapter 38-2

I lean against the counter, and watch Locke move through his space. He’s so comfortable and relaxed here, it’s obvious that he loves his home. Something about that unexpectedly squeezes my chest, I think because I’ve spent so much time seeing him in clubhouses and bars and parking lots, and not once have I ever stopped to wonder who he is when nobody’s looking.

When he’s being this man, this version of him The one opening drawers and pulling fine china plates from shelves and asking whether I want green tea with dinner, like we’re a couple, instead of two people who accidentally fell into each other’s lives at exactly the wrong moment.

Or maybe exactly the right one.

Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at a long dining table beside the windows, with sushi spread between us. The ocean has disappeared into darkness, leaving only scattered fights dancing across the water. The city glows below, the apartment glows around us. It’s all so absurd, and wonderful, and entirely unexpected.

I curl my fingers around the stem of my wine glass and study him across the table. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up, and his tattoos are very dark in the half-light. His blond hair is falling over his forehead, the curves of his muscles are clearly visible through his t-shirt.

He’s beautiful. Infuriatingly so.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“You usually do.”

I ignore that. “Do you know that you don’t belong in this apartment?”

The words slip out before I can phrase them properly.

Locke glances up from his plate. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

I smile. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” I lean back in my chair. “You look like somebody who should live in a warehouse full of motorcycles and poor decisions.”

His laugh is low enough to warm places inside me that have nothing to do with wine.

“I make excellent decisions.”

“Debatable.”

“You’re here, aren’t you? Staying with me at my place? In my bed?”

The words land softly between us, and heat climbs my throat as I remember his mouth on my p***y just a couple of hours ago. The bastard knows it, too, of course he knows it.

I reach for my wine, take a few unladylike gulps in a pathetic attempt to cool myself down. Locke watches with amusement and complete awareness of what I’m doing.

Chapter 38

Clarm

Tell me something,” I manage to say: “How does a terrifying biker money guy end up living in a penthouse overlooking the ocean?”

For a moment, something shifts in his expression, then he says, almost casually:

“Because I used to be a forensic accountant.”

I stare at him. “A what?”

“A forensic accountant.”

The silence stretches, then I laugh so hard I nearly choke.

“I can’t decide if that’s the least surprising thing you’ve ever said or the most surprising.” I catch my breath. “You’re telling me that underneath all this -”

I gesture at him. The tattoos. The shoulders. The scars. The dangerousness.

“- is an accountant?”

“Former accountant,” he corrects me. “And yes.”

I laugh again. “Oh, my God. What was that job like?”

“Well, it’s an incredibly long story, but in a nutshell, I spent years following money internationally. On the average day, I’d track it through six countries and three layers of lies until I found the truth hiding

underneath. The money funded drug smuggling, sex trafficking, weapons trading, terrorism, and so on. All that terrifying shit.”

“You worked for the government?”

He flashes me that charming smile, the one that takes my knees out from under me, and I mean that literally.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that information, ma’am.”

“You mean, if you told me, then you’d have to kill me?”

“Yes,” he says, giving me a hard, heated look. “But don’t worry, Zara – I’d kill you with orgasms.”

“Really?” I say softly, feeling my p***y start to slick up and pulse at his words. “Is that a promise?”

“No, baby.” He gets to his feet now, comes around to my side of the table. “That’s a fucking guarantee.”

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