Mr. Important (Honeybridge #2) Read Online Lucy Lennox

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Honeybridge Series by Lucy Lennox
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
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I swallowed hard. “I…I love you, too,” I said seriously.

“Yeah?” He closed his eyes and blew out a relieved breath. “Thank fuck. I told myself not to expect you to say it back. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks⁠—”

Predictably, seeing Thatcher vulnerable made me melt. “Weeks? Ha. I’ve been into you since… a possibly illegal number of years ago,” I admitted.

“Reeeeally.” He blinked. “Really?”

“Yes! How could you not know?”

“Baby, before you, it never would have occurred to me to look. I spent a long time keeping my focus on the things I thought I could control. Then, on New Year’s Eve, I took a risk. I shaved my beard and hooked up with a masked man⁠—”

“The wrong man,” I pointed out, smiling despite the tears still leaking from my eyes.

“The absolute right man,” he corrected firmly. “Since then, I haven’t felt like I’m in control of a damn thing. It terrifies me, but I’ve never felt more whole. When I’m with you, I see all the things I never could before.”

“Blind spots,” I murmured, and although I really, really didn’t want to, just saying the words made me think of Layla and the upheaval that was going to cause for PennCo and for Thatcher himself. What would the investigation entail? “So what happens now?” I blurted.

“Well…” Thatcher settled back against the pillows and pulled me deeper into his arms. “I know I don’t want to live without you. I’d like to take you home with me and keep you there permanently⁠—”

“What?” I pulled back to stare at him. Was he talking about moving in together? How could we possibly do that while still keeping our relationship under wraps? It wasn’t like paparazzi stalked either of us constantly, but people would talk⁠—

“Shhh. Calm down, baby, or that heart monitor is going to catch fire. I won’t rush you into anything,” he promised, pulling me back down against him. “But you did ask.”

“I… I meant what was going to happen to Layla,” I muttered. Despite my illness and the layers of hospital antiseptic on both of us, I caught the tang of his cologne and burrowed more deeply into his side.

“Oh. That.” Thatcher’s fingertips stroked up and down my arm. “Well, hopefully she went home like I told her to. If she’s still here, I’m pretty sure McGee will call security. But if you mean in general…”

I nodded against his rib cage.

“I’m going to follow HR’s lead from this point on, but I made it clear that I want Layla out as soon as possible,” he said unequivocally. “There’s no room for someone with her attitude at Pennington. In the meantime, January’s making sure her security badge and login credentials are frozen, pending the results of the investigation, and she’s suspended with pay effective immediately.”

“Whoa,” I breathed. “Just like that?” I lifted my head to gaze into his dark eyes. “How much did I miss while I was out? Did you see the slide deck Terrance sent me? And did you talk to Alena yourself? Because Layla was right—someone else investigating this might look at the facts and think it was me. Alena’s the only person who can really tie Layla to it, and she’s loyal to her boss, so maybe⁠—”

“Hush, baby. I knew from the first day that you weren’t involved, remember? Even before I knew you, I knew that much. I trust you, and I’m not going to let anyone else doubt you either.”

I wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish that without tipping people off that I was more than an employee and a family friend, but it was still really nice to hear. “You trust me that much?”

Thatcher’s gaze snapped up to mine. “With my life. Never doubt it. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time.” He leaned in close, his lips ghosted against mine⁠—

And the fucking monitor began blaring an alarm twice as loud as it had before, complete with a flashing red light like a police siren. Thatcher sprang off the bed.

“Is the machine trying to induce a cardiac event?” I grumble-coughed.

“I think this monitor might be malfunc—oh!” A cheerful older nurse pulled back the privacy curtain. “Look who’s awake!” She glanced from me to Thatcher, then frowned. “Mr. Pennington, I thought the doctor told you that you need to wear a mask in the patient’s room. Antivirals taken prophylactically are only eighty percent effective, you know.”

“I took it off out in the hall,” Thatcher said apologetically. He grabbed one from a container hanging on the wall. “I’ll keep this one on.”

“See that you do.” The nurse took my vitals while delivering a good-natured lecture on infection control protocols.

If that wasn’t enough to thoroughly kill any hope of Thatcher kissing me again, she also took me on a field trip to use the bathroom. One quick look at myself in the mirror had me hoping like hell Thatcher was under the influence of new-love blinders. By the time she helped me back to bed, my legs felt like overcooked noodles, and my head wasn’t much better.


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