Page 72 of The Wrong Husband

I grinned. She liked to pretend she was a gold digger, but she wasn't. I'd now spent enough time with her to know that Moana liked to buy her own jewelry. No wonder, Emilia and she were friends—two strong-minded independent women.

"Those are stunning. Thank your husband, bitch." Moana shook her head, but I could see the amusement in her eyes. In the past months, I had received her blessing for not being a total douchebag. High praise from her, I knew.

Emilia looked up at me, her eyes softening. “Thank you, Damian.”

I helped her wear the jewelry.

Emilia touched the diamond necklace and swallowed. "What if I lose it?"

"You won't," I assured her.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm not letting you out of my sight all night." I was going to keep her close.

Duncan had mentioned that I was getting too attached to Emilia and I'd waved it off. But he was right. I didn't like being away from her. I had even cancelled work travel and asked someone else on my team to go instead of me. I was doing most of my meetings via Zoom. If there was an auction in Europe, I asked Duncan to take care of it; and Dean to manage things in Asia—when, in the past, I would've been breathing down their necks in person.

Despite my assurances that she looked beautiful, and no one would think to ask her to leave the gala because she was not dressed properly (that had been a fear she had), my wife was nervous.

I didn't think she realized the elegance she exuded, no matter what she wore. There was such humility and curiosity within her, the zest for life that no makeup, no clothing, and no jewelry could replace.

Once we were on the road, I reached over and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, and she squeezed mine tightly. “Stop worrying."

She gave me a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. “I just want to get through it without making a fool of myself.”

“You won’t,” I promised. “Just be yourself.”

"That's the problem, Damian. Being myself, that's never been enough."

I hated that she felt like this. I also knew why. "No fucking way you're bringing your parents along on our date."

"Damian," she groaned.

"Em, you're lovely. I can't look away. And I sometimes have to because I can't just fuck you all the time. We have to eat, sleep and sometimes even work."

She smiled at that. "You really think I'm nice to look at?"

She wasn't fishing for compliments. She really wanted to know, wanted me to say it again and again. I had no problem doing that until she believed me. "You're irresistible. And stop biting your lip or we'll have to find a quiet corner so I can check out what you're wearing underneath that dress."

"The dress came with an inbuilt bra." She looked out of the window.

"And?"

"Moana recommended not wearing any panties because, you know, panty lines. I never had such problems in the past."

She was teasing me. I loved it. I loved that even though she was nervous, she retained her sense of humor.

"No panties equals easy access." I traced a finger up the slit of her dress and was rewarded with a shiver. "You shouldn't have told me that, Em. I'm going to spend the whole night tempted to feel how wet you are."

She shifted in her seat. "Stop it. I can't believe you turned the tables on me. Here, I thought, I was seducing you."

"You just have to breathe to do that."

I caught her look of shock when I stopped at a red light.

I stroked her cheek with a knuckle. "You're beautiful, both inside and out. I'm going to tell you that every day." Forever.

I dropped my hand at that bizarre thought and thankfully the light had turned green, so Emilia didn't see my turmoil.