Page 70 of Possessive Mr. Pen

For the first time in almost six months—my longest absence ever—I escaped the townhouse to attend the women’s defense class at Mr.Carter’s gym alone.

The clinical trial has been a miracle for Hannah.She still has hard days, but even those are mild enough she started staying with us on the weekends.I can’t express how perfect life is with everyone under one roof.Even Destiny moved in and started a new private school.Both girls come with me for class when Hannah feels up to it and Destiny isn’t too busy following Connor around.

Destiny claims she’s just learning the ropes like he wanted, but I think she secretly loves bugging him.He never loses his cool with her and treats her more like a little sister than a daughter, but the dynamic works for them.They’re both so happy it makes my heart hurt sometimes.

I curse as the gaudy ring catches in the only light shining at the front of the gym.

Did they cancel class and forget to tell me?Why is it so quiet?

I scan the streets, but everything looks normal, so I pull open the door.

The little bell rings.I step inside.

None of the lights are on.I try the switch.Nothing.

I call out for Mr.Carter.He doesn’t answer.Worried he might be hurt or sick, I reach into his office, but the overhead light doesn’t work, and the flashlight isn’t in its normal spot on the wall.

I call out again.

A shoe scuffs against the linoleum in the back of the gym.

I pull the pepper spray and knife from my gym bag and creep down the hall.

Blinding light pierces my eyes, and voices overlap from all directions.

I stumble back into strong arms.Leather and smoke invade my nostrils and flood my veins with instant arousal.

Which isnotappropriate for the current crowd.

Hannah and Destiny stand front and center holding a cake between them.Aisha and Momo toss confetti and wave balloons on either side of them.Mr.Carter leans against the nearest treadmill with his signature scowl in place, but mirth lurks in his eyes.I’ve never met the man standing beside him, but he has the same militaristic bearings as Mr.Carter and the slightest family resemblance to Connor, so it must be Uncle Ronan.

The entire self-defense class—and a new face or two—is here, too.Husbands, partners, even coworkers pack the room to the brim.

My voice gets trapped behind the emotions clogging my throat.

“Happy birthday,” Connor whispers in my ear.

“My birthday isn’t until Wednesday,” I half laugh, half scoff.

It’s either exasperation or buckets and buckets of snot and tears.

“I know, but I don’t want to propose on a weekday,” he murmurs.

“What?”I croak.

He pulls us around so our profiles are to the crowd, drops to a knee, and snaps open a jewelry box.

A beautifully simple ring with a single oval-cut diamond sits inside.

“Will you marry me, Hilary?”Connor asks.

I blink and swallow, not wanting this perfect moment to end but also eager to have his arms around me.

“You won’t make me suffer through another wedding, will you?”I quip.

Coined the most expensive wedding in a century by the news outlets, we followed through with our plans to televise a massive event.Connor’s inside man confirmed Jocelyn watched it, went half crazy, and is now in the prison psych ward.

“Only the wedding you want,” Connor answers.