Page 102 of The Unwanted Wife

"Hey, where did you go to?" I look up to find Quentin’s worried glance on me. "You okay, mate? You don’t look so hot."

"I’m afraid I’ve committed a mistake I’ll never recover from."

"Did you try apologizing to her?"

I nod.

"And?"

"It’s not enough. What I did to her, no apology can put right."

He rubs his chin. "So what will put it right?"

"I… I’m not sure." For the first time in my life, I’m completely and utterly at a loss. How could I have come to this? The man who’s survived on his own since he was eighteen, who made it through some of the highest profile missions the Marines ran, the man who took out enemy soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, laid low by a curvaceous siren who occupies his every thought.

A new voice growls from behind me, "I’ll tell you what I’m sure of, you’re a mother-fucking traitor." I hear the whistle of the breeze, and I could duck, but I don’t. Instead, I let Knox’s fist connect with my chin. The force of the blow knocks me off the bar stool. I hit the floor, the back of my head smashing into the hard tiles. Searing pain splits my skull. I see sparks behind my eyes. When it clears, Knox’s angry face looms over mine. "You bastard. How long have you been planning this?" He grabs my collar.

I let him haul me to my feet. When he pulls back his fist, I go lax in his grasp. I need this. I deserve this. I should be beaten up for everything I did to her.

He lets his fist fly, but Quentin blocks it. A sharp cut to Knox’s other arm has him loosening his hold on me. Quentin shoves him away. "Hold on, now."

"Don’t fucking interrupt, old man. This is between me and my fucking half-brother." Knox says half-brother in a derisive voice, which I must admit, is a fine touch. What’s more, I deserve it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Quentin growls.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Knox turns on him. "This fucker tried to sell us out, and you’re protecting him?"

Quentin frowns. "Sell us out?"

"He made a deal with our competitors, the bloody Whittingtons.”

Quentin scoffs, then he sees the look on my face, and all mirth disappears from his features. "The fuck have you done, Nathan?"

"Nothing the lot of you don’t deserve. Present company excluded." I move my jaw this way, then that. "Doesn’t seem like anything’s broken." I smirk at Knox. "Couldn’t do one thing right, hmm?"

Knox’s nostrils flare. Rage lights up his eyes. With a snarl, he charges, but once more, Quentin slaps his arm against Knox’s chest. "Cut it out."

"I am going to kill you." Anger leaps off of Knox, a thick wall of hate, which I welcome.

"Join the queue." I bare my teeth at him.

Quentin looks around. "You lot may not care about the reputation of the Davenports?—"

"Like you do?" Knox snorts.

"Only to the extent it hurts my inheritance."

"Thought you didn’t care about that?" I narrow my gaze on him.

"Things change. Turns out, I’m more of a family man than I’d like to admit, what with my son getting married?—"

"You have a son?" I blink.

"Of marriageable age? You’re old," Knox growls.

"Had him at eighteen, not that it’s any of your business. But"—he looks between the two of us—"what happens to the Davenport Group is important to me, now that I run one of the companies." He glances around at the interested eyes watching us. "I think we’ve attracted enough attention. Shall we take this behind closed doors?"

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