The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61 Loss of Control

**Kyle’s POV**

**+25 BONUS

“Sir, Mrs. Branson was seen at the park again this morning.” James shifted uncomfortably in front of my desk With Dr. Pierce,

My fingers tightened on the pen I was holding. “I thought I made clear that Mrs. Branson’s movements were no longer to be reported.”

“Yes, sit, but

“Then why are you here?”

James cleared his throat. “Given the circumstances, I thought you should know that Mrs. Branson appears to be spending considerable time with

“That will be all.” The pen snapped in my grip, ink staining my fingers. Perfect. Just perfect.

After he left, I stared at the dark stain spreading across the reports I’d been reviewing. Mia’s signature was still visible at the bottom – neat, precise strokes that somehow looked different now. When had that changed?

My phone felt heavy in my hand as I pulled up her number. Three rings before she answered.

“What?” Her voice was cool, distant.

“The dog park?” The words came

sharper than intended. “Really, Mia?”

“Are you having me followed?” Now there was heat in her tone. “That’s low, even for you.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“No, you’re trying to control me. There’s a difference.” She paused “Stop having your people watch me, Kyle. I mean it.”

“Mia-”

“I have to go. Gas needs his walk.”

“With who?” The question escaped before I could stop it.

Her laugh was bitter. “That’s none of your business anymore.”

The call ended with a decisive click. I stared at the blank screen, something uncomfortable twisting in my chest. Pride. It had to be wounded pride.

I tried to keep busy with work. Those were the things I was capable of. But every time my phone buzzed, I found myself checking – hoping? – for her name.

“Sir?” James again, looking even more uncomfortable than this morning. “About Mrs. Branson…”

“I thought I made myself clear.”

“Yes, sir, but…” He swallowed hard. “She’s at Paradise.”

“The club?” Something cold settled in my stomach.

“Yes, sir. With Miss Scarlett. They’re…” He coughed delicately. “In the VIP section.”

Paradise. One of my entertainment industries. Where things frequently got out of hand in the VIP section. Where Mia had no business being.

“Get the car.”

By the time we pulled up to the club, my jaw ached from clenching it.

+25 BONUS

The bass hit me as soon as I entered heavy, primal heats that made the air itself feel charged. Blue lights painted everything in surreal shades, turning the crowd into a writhing mass of shadows and skin.

I found her in the VIP section, surrounded by men who were wearing far too little and smiling far too much. One had his hand on her knee. The other was leaning close, whispering something that made her laugh.

The sound of her laughter–bright, uninhibited, nothing like the careful way she usually conducted herself hit the like a physical blow.

“What the fuck is this?”

They all looked up. Mia’s eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed. The green dress she wore since when did she wear things like that? – had slipped off one shoulder.

“Kyle?” She blinked slowly, her smile fading. “What’re you doing here?”

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her up. “We’re leaving.”

Her skin felt feverishly hot under my fingers. How much had she had to drink?

“Kyle, stop!” She stumbled as I pulled her toward the exit. “It hurts!”

I loosened my grip slightly but didn’t let go. “Get her things,” I snapped at the nearest security guard.

The cool night air seemed to hit her hard. She swayed on her feet, and I had to catch her before she fell.

“Get in the car.”

“No.” She tried to pull away again, but her legs weren’t cooperating. “You don’t get to control me anymore!”

“You’re drunk.”

When she still resisted, I simply picked her up. She felt too light in my arms – had she lost more weight? Her head lolled against my shoulder as I placed her in the car.

“Take us home,” I told Andrew. “And call Dr. John.”

“You can’t just-” She hiccupped, then went pale. “Pull over! I’m gonna be sick!”

Andrew managed to stop just in time. I held her hair back as she emptied her stomach into the gutter, my other hand steady on her back. Her skin burned through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Better?”

She giggled – actually giggled. “I think… I threw up on the great Kyle Branson’s suit.”

“You shouldn’t get drunk.” I helped her back into the car.

She hummed something under her breath, her head falling back against the seat. “You smell nice.”

“Mia…”

“You always smell nice.” Her eyes were half–closed. “S’not fair. Even your stupid expensive cologne is perfect.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

“You’re perfect.” She waved a hand vaguely in my direction. “Perfect suit. Perfect hair. Perfect… everything.” Another giggle.” You could totally be a stripper. Better abs than Connor.”

“Stop talking.”

“Make me.” She turned those green eyes on me, suddenly intent despite the alcohol. “That’s what you do, right? Make everyone do what you want?”

+25 BONUS

The rest of the drive passed in tense sleek, she dozed at! outo my shoulder

nete between the club and home, her head ezentually failing

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