Page 1 of His Weekend Wife

CHAPTER ONE

“Well, well, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening, Lucy?” Declan Knight folded his arms over his chest as he stared back at the glowering face of his aunt.

“Can’t I just stop in to visit now and again? Must there always be a reason? Since when did the younger generation stop respecting their elders?”

“Where did you park your broom, auntie?” He smiled.

“Is that any way to treat family, Declan?” Lucy braced her hand on her wide hip and shook her head in irritation, sending dangling earrings clanking. “You should be happy to see me.” She pressed her hand into the center of his chest and pushed him aside as she stepped inside of his high-rise luxury apartment where he’d lived for the last two years.

“Yes, do please come in.” He shoved the door closed with his foot. There went his plans of de-stressing after a long day at the office. He’d sat in on what should have been a fifteen-minute meeting that turned into three hours—or rather turned into a migraine. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to listen to Lucy go on and on about the latest social gossip among her friends—term used loosely.

It wasn’t that he disliked his aunt. She did have her good points, although few and far between. He learned long ago, though, that she prided herself on rubbing people the wrong way, liked how it made her feel powerful. She was keen at business and that he could respect. Since his father, Theobald, died and left her a share of the family business, Knight Corporation—the same company that Declan was now CEO of—the sixty-something woman made it her weekly goal to bust his balls for one bullshit thing or another. She singled him out among his brothers because she ‘favored’ him, but he knew she bestowed her attention on him simply because he was the only family living close enough for her to reach out and touch. He sure wished she’d learn the modern communication of texting.

They were neck-deep in a lucrative business deal, a million-dollar merger that would change the future of Knight Corp, specifically Knight Sporting Goods, an elite supplier for professional sports leagues. The company had grown by threefold in the last two years, and to see the rest of his plans unfold, he had no choice but to plaster a friendly smile on his face and tolerate Lucy for the time being. Lucky me.

Declan had often wondered why Theobald Knight had left his sister a part of the company. They never did see eye-to-eye, or so it seemed. She had always given her older brother a hard time about his choices and his so-called mistakes. Maybe he’d felt sorry for her? Could be that Theobald just wanted Lucy to concentrate on something else besides snaring another rich husband. She rotated marriages like they were a business transaction.

The woman was on her fourth marriage and never seemed happy—never was satisfied no matter how many digits were in the current Mr. Right’s bank account balance. Undeniably, she was a Knight and had the same love for success and shrewd business practices as the rest of them. Yet everyone else was happy to work for their accomplishments instead of marrying into it.

His aunt had a long list of jetsetters she rubbed elbows with who, in turn, networked with other prominent leaders—the same social circle he ran in. Everyone was always looking for the next ‘big opportunity’ and searching for the next top dog who could help them get the prize. That was the process of corporate business, or at least what his father had tried to instill in him.

Lucy’s socializing tactics and schmoozing skills did come in handy quite often. She’d brought in business for Knight Corp on several occasions. Just like the current project that he’d been working on night and day for the last year—A.K.A. his baby. She’d played an important role in getting the owner of Hannigan Sports, Mick Hannigan, to place Knight Corp on top of the list for a takeover to merge the two sporting goods supply companies—Knight and Hannigan. The deal would bring in millions.

Lucy’s heels tapped the polished hardwood floor, echoing off the tall, angled ceilings, making his temples throb even more. After a sixteen-hour day at the office, he’d hoped to come home and watch a game. Have a beer. Take another ibuprofen.

He followed her from the foyer, down the long hall through a set of glass doors and into the great room. She went straight to the mini bar, dropped cubes of ice into glasses, then poured two fingers worth of expensive scotch into each, handing him one. He took the offering, but didn’t partake. “Is there a problem?”

“One of many,” she groaned, pursing her full, crimson lips that looked abnormally large for her otherwise thin, crinkled features. “Let’s stop this noise, shall we?” Her gaze darted across the room as if she were searching for something and, when she found the target, a sound of pleasure escaped her. She reached for the remote and clicked off the TV.

“I was watching the game.”

“What we need to discuss is much more important than men running around in tight pants, although I never thought I’d say such a thing.” Lucy sighed and dropped the remote back onto the glass table. “I just heard that your sister left her Virginia house—her mother’s house—to one of her charities. How is that possible? Why aren’t you and your brothers doing something about this? With renovations, the place would be worth its weight in gold.”

“It was Angelina’s choice.” He squinted when a familiar sadness crawled through his chest. His sister had only been gone for a short time now after losing her battle with cancer. He wasn’t sure when he’d stop feeling as though someone had stabbed him in the heart, but two months wasn’t even close in helping to ease the pain.

Certainly, there wasn’t a timeline for grieving, but he was an impatient man, always expecting things to happen fast for immediate satisfaction. This was different. He was still overcome with the same magnitude of emotion when he thought about her. She’d been the glue that held the Knight family together, and now she was no longer here to give words of encouragement, offer advice, even putting her unwanted two-cents in on his fucked-up love life. Angelina had considered herself cupid’s anonymous assistant, although her matchmaking skills weren’t worth a damn. He smiled and swallowed against the constriction in his throat, forcing his brain back on track. Business as usual. When the heart was aching, it was best to jump eyeballs deep in something he could control like work, or fuck until his cock hurt. He was his father’s son.

“She wasn’t thinking clearly,” Lucy whined. “We all know she was under the influence of strong pain medication at the end. That attorney of hers should be ashamed of himself for allowing her to change her will under such circumstances. I’m certain his bank account blossomed after her death.” She sniffed loudly.

Declan’s jaw involuntarily tightened. “And how would you know what Angelina was under the influence of during her last days? Did you visit her in the last months after she was diagnosed?”

“Don’t make me feel guilty.” She waved a hand as if she could simply erase his words.

“No one can make you feel anything. Angelina was still as sharp as she’d always been, even in the last part of her life.” His own guilt washed through his body. He’d talked with his sister and she seemed…well…okay. He had no clue that her health had been declining. She’d kept the return of the cancer a secret. “Damn, even I let her down on so many levels. I thought I had more time.” He tore a hand through his hair.

“You’re running a million-dollar business, Declan. Your sister understood.”

He gave his head a quick shake. “Yeah, I’m sure she did. Anyway, why are you here? The hubby out with his golfing buddies?”

Lifting her left hand, she wiggled her fingers, flashing her bare ring finger. “Norman is gone.”

How had he overlooked that she was missing the ice rink from her hand? The diamond was usually the first thing he saw because it reflected so much light that it temporarily blinded him. “He left?”

“Not exactly. He had become such a thorn in my ass, I couldn’t possibly stay married to the wretched creature a second longer. Out with the old, and in with the new.”

“Poor bastard.” Probably ran, not walked, when you gave him the news.

“No worries. One, I wasn’t stupid, yet poor Norman was. Very much so. There were so many holes in the prenup I had signed that my attorney says I will be a pleased woman when this horrible situation is all through. Another thing. I’ve met someone else. I think our relationship will go far. Yet no fear. I’ll still be focused on the company, as usual.”

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