It’s Wednesday.
In three days’ time, I’ll have a wife.
The thought stalls in my mind like a ship stuck in a fog and I stare out my office window.
It’s sunny outside. Nearly evening, but still as bright as the noon day sun.
As if the weather is mocking me with a juxtaposition to the storm brewing inside me.
Or maybe it’s just not about me today.
Maybe the universe has better things to do than follow my ever-changing shift of emotions.
I should feel better than I do. I did what I said I was going to do and avoided Aurora like you would a used car salesman trying to earn a commission. It’s been nearly five weeks since I last saw her, yet my fucking dick is still hard as ever, and she’s still living in my damn head.
If I’d truly wanted to forget her, the worst thing I could have done is ask her to strip for me and suck my cock. Add riding my face and coming in my mouth to the mix, and there’s no wonder I had no hope. All I did was shift her out of my sight.
And I’ll be seeing her later tonight for the fundraiser.
I’d hoped I’d be in a better frame of mind by now, but I’m as far from it as Jupiter is from the sun.
My staff have been keeping tabs on her and everything else in my absence. I know she and Chelle are always at each other’s throats, but I’m aware that’s a Chelle thing.
I also know that Nathan has been in touch with Aurora’s father several times. He wants to work with him, but I know the asshole wants a little more than that.
In various email correspondence, Aurora’s name was mentioned several times. The asshole has hopes of getting his foot in the door once my marriage to her is over.
It’s hard to think of the beginning of our marriage in two days when I slip another ring on Aurora’s finger, much less how we’ll be in six months’ time when we say goodbye.
My office door opens with such sudden force, I feel the breeze it creates as it swings forward. Jericho marches in. His face is red and flustered, and his hair and clothes ruffled. He stalks up to my desk with a newspaper dangling from his hand.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I look him over when he stops before me, revealing he looks much worse up close. The last time he looked this bad, he’d gone on a six-day bender and turned up on my college campus wearing a Wendy’s uniform. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Jesus, Knight. Have you seen the papers?”
“No.” I frown inwardly. What did he do now?
He lays the newspaper down on the desk, and I see he’s made the front page.
There’s a picture of him shirtless with a very naked woman giving him a lap dance. Her tits and ass are blurred out. From the rails and padded seats, I’m guessing they’re on a yacht.
The headline above reads:
Billionaire Playboy gets frisky with the Preacher Man’s Wife.
A flash of annoyance tingles my skin, and I look from the newspaper to him and back again.
“A preacher man’s wife, Jericho?” I glower at him with raised brows.
“I didn’t know who she was. She came to Luc’s party, and I got carried away. I was drinking too much because of the damn stress over Park Avenue. I also had a fucking run-in with Bastian, and it pissed me off.”
That would piss anyone off.
But wait…there has to be more significance to the story. The papers wouldn’t care about any old preacher man. He’d have to be someone big.
I scan the first line of the article, and my shoulders drop.
Yeah, I was right.
The preacher man in question is Paul Linco, one of the biggest gospel ministers in New York. He’s obviously a little more than a preacher man, but I get that the title had a cool ring to it for a headline.
The wife is his third wife. She’s a twenty-five-year-old ex-pro football cheerleader who is fifty years his junior, and it looks like she thought my brother was a good pick for the night.
But this is bad on the scale of fucked to hell. Paul Linco is one of our leading clients. Our father’s client.
“What does this mean?” I ask the question because he’d only be here if the shit had already hit the fan and scattered around the room.
“It’s all over the fucking press. Grandfather obviously saw it and called me to chew my ass out. Paul Linco pulled all his contracts from us.”
“Oh, fuck. Are you serious?” Why the hell do I bother asking?
“Yes.” He slumps into the chair in front of me and places his head on the desk.
“There has to be a way around this.”
“No. Grandfather already talked to him. He wants nothing to do with us. He’s also going to tell his little friends to jump ship as well. Of course, Father is pissed as fuck and wants me gone.” Wearily, he lifts his head and stares back at me through bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
I can’t believe all of this happened today and I’m only just finding out. Seems like I really do have my head elsewhere.
I’m also not sure what the hell I’m going to do to help him.
“Did you sleep with her?” If he didn’t, I might be able to reason with Paul.
“Of course I did.”
“Jericho.” I shake my head at him. “Why the fuck did you have to do this? You know we’re under serious scrutiny.”
“I know. I know I fucked up, and at the worst time, too.” He closes his eyes and releases a haggard breath. “I didn’t know the press was tracking us, but I know that’s no excuse. Last night, I just needed a fucking break, and I slipped up.”
I can see the recent situation has taken its toll on him. Truthfully, I’m stressed out as well, but the problem here is Jericho is Jericho.
This shit is not unusual for him. Ordinarily, he’d brush it off. We all would.
But this time, it’s impossible to overlook his actions because he’s just lost us a major, longtime client. One with influence in the wider society that will indeed cause a domino effect. It already has.
I’m pissed at that and the fucked-up timing. This is the last thing either of us needs. It’s juvenile and reckless and makes us both look bad.
But … I still have to help him. Right now, I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll
figure out something. Jericho would help me even if I’d just robbed a bank and swore I didn’t, but the cash was falling out of my ass.
“Let me speak to Grandfather.” I rest my hands on the table and think about when it will be appropriate. The fundraiser isn’t the right place or time. “Maybe I can come up with something.”
“I’m not sure you can. I’m not really here for help. I just thought I’d come by and tell you what’s going on. I also think it’s best I give the fundraiser a miss. I don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.” He facepalms himself and keeps his hand at his forehead. “Damn it, Knight. This is going to come back and bite me. I just know it will. I’m aware Grandfather is taking his own sweet time in speaking to me about the company because of shit like this. Normally, I don’t give a fuck because I’m so good at what I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not replaceable. Or that Bastian can’t do my job.”
Although I don’t want to think like that, he’s right. No one, no matter who you are or how good you are at what you do, is irreplaceable. No one.
My phone rings. It’s Claude’s ringtone. He never calls me unless there’s something going on at the house.
“I have to take this.” I retrieve my phone from my pocket.
“Sure. Don’t mind me.” He places his hands up like he’s under arrest.
I answer the phone, momentarily pushing this debacle out of my mind so I can prepare myself for what Claude has to tell me.
I can only imagine his call must have something to do with Aurora. But what?
“Hey, Claude, what’s going on?”
“A lot. It seems your wife-to-be has decided she’s not going to the fundraiser.” His British accent deepens with distaste on those last words. “Ryan went to Sunset Cove to pick her up and she sent him away.”
Jesus, I can’t deal with this now. “Tell her she has to go. That is not up for discussion.”
“She says, and I quote, ‘If Knight wants me there, he’ll have to drag my ass there kicking and screaming himself.”
My chest gives, and I look up heavenward, as if I can grab answers or help from the universe. Aurora has been playing nice the whole time. What’s changed?
Us. Her.
She’s fed up.
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly time for me to leave. If I send someone else to get her, I risk the same rejection. I’m also the closest to Sunset Cove.
“I’ll take care of it.” I drag in a ragged breath and pray for strength.
“Alright, I’ll let Ryan know. See you later.”
He hangs up, and I run my hand across my forehead.
“Everything okay?” Jericho searches my eyes.
“When is it ever? I have to go. I’ll check in with you later.”
“Cool. Call me if you need me.”
I just might. It sounds like I’m about to get reacquainted with the pissed-off version of Aurora Wright who bitch-slapped me and confessed her undying hatred in the same breath.
If that’s her, there’s a chance I might indeed have to drag her sweet little ass kicking and screaming to the fundraiser.
That’s not the way I wanted to see her again after so long.
But we’ll see.
I won’t have her defy me and get away with it so easily.
