The Wrong Wife by Maya Alden

Chapter 35

Declan

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York and wouldn't come back until later tonight," she exclaimed when I entered Safe Harbor. I opened my arms, and she walked into them.

For the past two months since the gala, we’d gotten closer and she was less weary of us, more trusting.

"I came early because I needed a hug."

"I missed you," she whispered as she held me close. She pulled away momentarily, took her glasses off, and went back to snuggling against me so the frame didn’t come between us.

She’s in love with me. I knew that. I’d known it for a while now even if she didn’t admit it.

"I missed you too, sweetheart, and I'm looking forward to watching the stars with you tonight." I kissed her nose and then her lips.

She was busier than ever, as was I, with completing the merger between Hartley Industries and Knight Technologies. She'd promised me a weekend to go away to the Mojave. But it kept getting postponed, sometimes because of her and sometimes me. However, this time, I was going to whisk her off in the evening for a long weekend in the desert come hell or high water.

"I still need to pack, Declan. I didn't have time this morning."

"Calliope already did; your bag is in the car's trunk alongside mine. No excuses this time, sweetheart."

"I'm so sorry. I know I've disappointed you—"

"You're many things, Esme, but never a disappointment. We've both been busy. I had to cancel as well because we had that crisis in London," I reminded her.

She tried to step away from me when she heard the snickers from her staff, so I held her in a loose hug. In the past months, she'd taken more responsibility at Safe Harbor, and even though she didn't like administrative work, she was finding that established processes were critical to helping the women and children who came to the home. Maria had happily stepped back, letting Esme lead. And my wife was born to lead. With kindness and generosity, she'd turned the place around. She still worked with the women as a clinical social worker, but she now also managed all the members of the Safe Harbor team. It made her come home late—but it also made her happy and feel accomplished.

"Hi, Mr. Knight," Betty, the receptionist, said, fluttering her eyes at me.

Esme had told me that Betty, who's just turned seventeen and worked at Safe Harbor part-time as she went to university, had a crush on me.

"Hello, Betty."

"You can't keep coming here. You'll scare the women." Patricia came up to me and kissed me on my cheek even as I held Esme in my arms. "Or they'll want to steal you away. If only I was ten years younger."

Patricia was the other social worker on the team. Esme had hired the veteran away from LAPD County as she looked for more reasonable hours to spend with her new granddaughter.

"You'd still be ten years too old," Gina barked. She was the den mother of sorts and took care of the housing needs of all the women, as well as the kitchen. Gina was the same age as Patricia, and they'd known each other for many years; in fact, Patricia had recommended Gina for the job at Safe Harbor.

I knew my donations through the Caruso Foundation enabled the team to expand. I was already looking into buying the building next to Safe Harbor so they could grow. That would be a birthday surprise for Esme, who would turn twenty four this Fall. Jewelry worked for other women, but wouldn't for Esme, so I'd found out what would and was working to make it happen.

I needed a break as much as Esme did. It had been tough navigating the merger with Viv and Julien, who were pressuring Esme and me to end our marriage. Viv's annulment had come through, and she was more persistent than ever. I had made sure to give her no encouragement, but she couldn't understand how I could be interested in Esme when I could have her.

She'd been in New York with me for meetings and done her best to get me into bed. I didn't have to resist. I wasn't interested after the magic of making love with Esme. When the heart is involved, I realized, the sex is better. Esme had ruined me for all other women. If she ever left, I'd die sexless and celibate. Scary thought!

I worked in her office while she finished up.

Mateo sent me an "urgent" message, and I called him. "What's up?"

"We have a security breach with Macmillan."

Macmillan was one of the largest media conglomerates in the world and one of our biggest customers. "What the fuck?"

"Yes. Raya is looking into it; it looks like we were hacked. We've put mitigation in place, but you must get to New Orleans asap. Rick Macmillan is shitting a brick."

"Damn it, Mateo, I'm taking Esme to the Mojave. We've yet to manage to make a single weekend work. Can't you go?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Mateo?"

"I'm sorry. Where is Declan Knight, and who the fuck are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This is a contract worth several million for Knight Tech, and you don't want to secure it? The old Declan would have already called his assistant to get the plane ready."

Yeah, he was right. "I'll call Baker."

"Thanks. I'll make sure everything is resolved with this account before you get there."

"And Raya is hunting down whoever is fucking with our systems?"

"You know her. She's like a dog with a bone."

I hung up and went to find Esme.

She was in one of the meeting rooms. It was only partly glassed. I watched her with a woman who had marks on her face. Esme was holding the woman's baby, gently rocking as she spoke to the woman.

She was a natural—looked like fucking earth mother as she sat there with that tiny pink bundle. My heart hammered against my chest. I wanted Esme to have my baby. A girl. Yes, a little girl with Esme's hair and eyes. I could almost picture the toddler version of our child, wearing a pink dress and running like a two-year-old, unsteady, and unsure, but eager.

Damn it, Dec, you can't make a weekend away happen with Esme, and you want children?

Regardless, I couldn’t stop my mind for imagining Esme with a swollen belly, and my cock went from half-mast to complete stone. It aroused me to think of her with child, her breasts heavy. I'd never thought consciously of children. I knew I would have them eventually—Viv and I discussed it as a future project. She and I were both busy with our careers. If Viv had a baby, she'd told me it would have to be through a surrogate. She couldn't and wouldn't spend nine months growing large to pop out a baby. A surrogate, according to her, was more civilized. I hadn't given it much thought. Esme wouldn't dream of that—she'd want to get pregnant and have a baby. She'd not be the type of woman who'd hire a nanny as they did in our circles. No, Esme would want both of us to care for her.. Suddenly, all I wanted was to knock my wife up.

I knew she had an IUD to prevent pregnancy because birth control pills made her nauseous. Could I convince her to try for a baby right away? A baby would make this marriage permanent.

Even as I thought about it, I knew that I didn't want to tie Esme to me through stealth. I wanted her with me because she believed I loved her and loved me enough to overcome her insecurities and controlling family.

I texted Calliope and asked to pack a new bag for Esme, this time with a weekend in New Orleans in mind. It wasn't the Mojave for certain, but we could make the most of it. I’d meet with Rick Macmillan at his HQ, calm him down, and spend the rest of the time exploring the city with Esme. We'd eat at Antoine's and Muriel's. I'd introduce her to jazz at Tremé. We'd make love in the Hotel Monteleone and have a drink at the Carousel Bar. I didn't know how Esme would feel about it, and I worried she might be upset that we weren't going to the desert. I worried needlessly.

"Oh, can we eat at Mr. B's Bistro? They make the best Louisiana barbecue shrimp. They serve it with a bib."

We flew to New Orleans that evening, ate dinner at Mr. B's as she wished, and went to The Spotted Cat Music Club in Tremé to cap off the night.

There was something about being away from home and LA—like we were a regular couple with a traditional marriage and life. Like we weren't together because of some corporate bylaw—and because my fiancée had dumped me at the last minute. The media didn't care that we were kissing in a bar called Absinthe or making out at the jazz club in the dark.

"Maybe we should move to New Orleans," I suggested as we got into bed that night. I was tired in the best way possible. Good food, music, wine, and sex. The perfect evening.

"Why?" She rested her head on my shoulder as she had started to do. During the night, we'd detach, but we began the night holding on to one another. It was one of the best parts of my day.

"It's more relaxing."

"I think it's because we're on vacation, and honestly if I ate and drank like this every day, I'd be three times my size."

"Then there would just be more to love."