The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 541

Chapter 266-2

+25 Pointe

The moment the elevator doors open, Xena doesn’t hesitate. She lets out a sharp, joyful whine, her nails clicking frantically against the floor as she bolts straight down the main

corridor, her tail wagging so hard her whole hindquarters sway.

She knows exactly where she is. To her, this isn’t a high–rise fortress.

It’s home.

“Xena, wait,” I call out, but she’s already gone.

I follow her slowly, my coat folded over my arm, my heart thumping a heavy, nervous rhythm against my ribs. The air in the penthouse smells faintly of cedar, expensive leather, and

Locke’s signature scent.

It all wraps around me like a familiar blanket, making my skin prickle with a sudden, intense

awareness.

I turn the corner into the hallway with the nursery and the master bedroom. The door at the far end is wide open, spilling a warm, golden pool of light onto the dark floorboards.

Inside the doorway, Xena is currently launching her small body against Locke’s, her front paws propped up against his thighs as she licks his hands with ecstatic, desperate loyalty. Locke is crouching down on the tarp–covered floor, his hair slightly rumpled, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal the heavy flex of his forearms and the dark ink tracing his skin.

A genuine smile crosses his face as his massive hands cup Xena’s head, scratching her behind the ears with practiced, familiar ease.

“Hey, girl,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I miss you too.”

Standing in the doorway, watching him with our dog, my breath catches in my throat. Locke looks up, his sharp, storm–gray eyes meeting mine.

The frustrated tension on his brow softens, replaced by an intense, focused warmth a looks at me. His eyes drag slowly down my frame, taking in my soft sweater, my dark leggings, and the undeniable, beautiful roundness of my belly.

“You came,” he says, pushing himself up to his feet. He towers over the space,

+25 Points

hapter 266

broad–shouldered and imposing, yet there’s an eager, cautious quality to the way he steps

back to welcome me in. “Thank you.”

“Of course I came,” I say, stepping over the threshold while Xena trots past me to inspect the corners of the room. “It never ever occurred to me not to.”

I look around the nursery.

It’s bathed in a soft, warm light from the standing lamp in the corner. The walls are a serene, calming shade of sage green where he’s finished rolling the paint, contrasting beautifully with the crisp white trim and delicate gold accents he’d planned for the borders. Painter’s tape still lines the baseboards, and a few drop cloths cover the center of the dark hardwood floor.

Locke steps up near me, hands resting on his hips as he looks at the green paint.

“I can’t believe I haven’t asked this before now,” he says, turning his head to look down at me. “Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“No,” I say. “We didn’t want to find out. We wanted it to be a surprise, so we picked neutral colors for the walls. Sage green and gold. Like nature, as Willow pointed out.”

Locke looks back at the green wall, taking that in. “Did I have a preference? Boy or girl?” He pauses, glancing back down at me with a faint, curious glint in his eye. “Did you?”

“Not at all,” I say, a light, teasing tone creeping into my voice. “We both knew that either way, any baby born into this family was going to end up a leather–wearing hell–raiser.”

Locke freezes for a second, staring at me before a sudden, genuine smirk breaks across his face.

“Well, I know that’s right,” he chuckles. “It’s a goddamn sure thing.”

It feels so easy, so effortless, to just stand here in t

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