Page 12 of Dirty Billionaire

Once was sex.

Twice was...more.

I didn’t want more.

I wanted to be married to my wife and have her alive again. I wanted my family to be a unit and not to have to consider if my children would be okay with this.

Instead of messaging her, I took a different turn and drove home. Then drank way too much whisky before jerking off in the shower and going to bed.

I am a father. I don’t care if they are now adults; I have to be responsible. Who I bring into their world needs to be the right woman.IfI ever do.

They all still grieve, and this will be another stage in their process that will hurt them.

Whether I like it or not, me loving another woman will hurt my kids. Sorry, but I never signed up to do that. My job is to protect them.

So, I can’t.

The image of someone sitting at Tina’s place at our dining room table and the faces of my kids looking back at me makes me want to punch something.

What? Life? I can’t punch fucking life.The intangible motherfucker.There is no one to blame. Nothing to hate. Just raw grief which never seems to leave. Like an unwanted guest, it’s always hovering in the shadows.

That was two weeks ago, and I have had regrets. I wish I had shown up and spent a few dirty hours with Penelope, making each other feel good.

Or called her to cancel.

That’s the sort of thing a respectful man would do. I taught my boys to treat women well and yet something happened, and I froze.

“I thought you would have merged companies, Ward.” The surrounding conversation brings me back to the present.

“Not at all,” I reply, lifting my Macallan to my lips as my gaze returns over and over to the sexy woman in the black dress.

Like forbidden fruit, I want her.

I want to fuck her—needto fuck her—so hard it fucks every ounce of this unwanted desire out of me once and for all.

She isn’t going to forgive easily. A woman like Penelope with such high self-worth wouldn’t. I expect to have to work for it.

The thought just makes me desire her more.

Men. We are predators at heart, I’m sure of it.

“Excuse me.” I nod at the people around me and make my way across the room.

I’m almost at Penelope’s side when an arm snakes around her and my brows shoot to the roof of my head. The hand belonging to a tall, well-dressed man settles on her hip and brushes the curve of her ass.

A rush of anger surprises me as it fills my chest.

I watch as Penelope lifts her face to his, and he kisses her cheek.

Motherfucker.

Then she turns and our eyes meet.

I know my gaze is fierce, but I can’t stop it. I might not have any right to feel like this, but I’m seconds away from ripping his arm off her and threatening to steal his last breath if he touches her again.

Fury has me clenching my whisky tightly.

Penelope gasps as the glass smashes.

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