“What… the f**k… is the matter with you?” he asked slowly, his voice still vibrating, the fury still radiating and I blinked.
What?
I didn’t do anything.
And I thought he should know that and not mistake it.
So I yelled it, leaning toward him and everything.
“I didn’t do anything!”
He came at me, fast. I retreated, not as fast. I hit something, went into freefall and my bottom landed sideways in a chair, back to a cushioned armrest, legs over the other one. Knight leaned over me, one hand to the top back of the chair, one hand in the seat beside me, face an inch from mine.
God, God, God, he was scaring the hell out of me.
Why was he angry? At me!
“You put on that dress, didn’t you?” he whispered and it was sinister.
“What?” I whispered back.
“You… do not… leave your house… dressed like that… without being on the arm of a man like me,” he ground out on a terrifying staccato with scary pauses.
“A man like you?” I whispered.
“A man who’d shoot another man in the face he even looked at you. Yeah, Anya, a man… like… me.”
He meant that. He meant that. Every word. God, he meant every word of that.
“Knight, you’re scaring me.”
Yep, still whispering.
“Good,” he bit out, his eyes moved over my face for a while then he growled, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck… me.”
What now?
No, no. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want VIP vouchers either even though I could possibly sell them on the internet for half the cost of opening up a mountain retreat spa.
I just wanted to go.
Now.
“Can you move up so I can get up and get out of here?” I requested cautiously.
“Tomorrow, I’m giving you breakfast. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
I blinked.
Then, yes still whispering, “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Bullshit. Nine. You say no again I’m givin’ you breakfast anyway but only because tonight, all night, until morning, you’re tied to my bed.”
There it was. The whole body shiver I wasn’t sure was good, as in very, very good or bad as in very, very bad.
“Knight,” I breathed.
“Nine.”
“I have a client at eleven,” I blurted and his head jerked as his brows shot together.
“A client?”
“Acrylics. Um… fake nails. Standing appointment every two weeks. Her name is Shirley,” I explained though went overboard on the information because I was freaking out.
He stared at me and I felt my entire body heat from the infuriated blaze coming from his eyes.
Then he said, “Lunch, one.”
Oh God.
“Knight –” I repeated.
“Lunch, Anya, one. You come to me. My place. I don’t get a call up at one, the boys find you and bring you to me.”
He meant that too. God, he meant every word.
“You’re scaring me,” I told him quietly and honestly.
“Good, then you’ll do what the f**k I say,” he bit back. “Now, I’m gonna go, send up a drink and you’re gonna drink it while you wait for me to find a man I trust to take you out back so no man’s eyes are on you as you walk through my club. He’s gonna put your ass in a car and take you home. He’s walkin’ you to your door. He’s also doin’ a walkthrough of your place. You give him shit, he’ll tell me and I’ll punish you. Are you with me?”
“Not really,” I whispered.
“You will be,” he whispered back, pushed off and stalked to the door.
By the time he got there, I’d pushed myself up in the chair but had not been able to scramble out of it before he pinned me to the spot with his eyes.
“That dress, babe, you wear it again, it’s only for me.”
Then he disappeared through the door, I heard it lock from the other side and he was gone.
Chapter Five
Wars Fought Over a Face Like This
Call me crazy, heck, even I thought I was crazy, but the next day, at quarter ‘til one, I was in my car heading to Knight’s high-rise.
I did not call the police.
No, not me.
But I did call Vivica and Sandrine and gave them the lowdown because, if I disappeared, I figured someone should know where to begin to search for my body.
Last night, shortly after Knight left, a waitress came in accompanied by a bouncer who was there, I knew, so I wouldn’t try to escape.
I tried ordering a sparkling water again hoping that if Knight got that pissed that Nick put his hands on Sandrine, he wouldn’t order a bouncer to wail on me for ordering water.
He didn’t. They retreated and in order to attempt to calm my terror, I looked around.
The walls were a rich, warm red, not blood, bordering on wine. A huge, dark wood desk covered in stuff. Knight worked, that was obvious. Laptop, multi-line phone, papers and folders strewn, two (that I could see) expensive-looking pens lying on top of papers, big manila envelopes, etc. There was a high-back black, swish-looking swivel chair behind the desk, in front of it, two supple, burgundy leather chairs. There was a matching sofa against the wall, in front of it a dark wood coffee table. In a corner, another dark wood table, this round with five, burgundy leather chairs surrounding it. A long, low chest against the wall opposite the couch, on it were bottles of booze. No fancy decanters. Just a bottle of Jack Daniels, one of Grey Goose, one of Tanqueray, one of Patron tequila. A variety of heavy, cut, crystal glasses. Down from the booze and glasses, a smooth piece of warm-colored wood intricately, artistically and interestingly carved into the shape of a voluptuous female’s torso from neck to top thigh, arms wound behind her back, the wood and curves of her figure all waves, undulating with the grain. It was fantastic though I didn’t want it to be because that would say Knight had good taste (or even better than I already expected) and I didn’t want to think anything good about him.
But there was further proof of it in the prints on the wall. Enormous panoramas of black framed, cream matted, black and white shots of Denver skylines.
There was a credenza behind Knight’s desk also covered with work detritus. On one side there were two narrow cases with glass fronts that held a whopping huge collection of CDs. Mounted on the wall was a slim but tall CD player that held ten CDs. It was a work of art, I’d seen it on the website of where he bought me my phone and although I didn’t check the price, I knew it had to cost way more than my phone. To top that, there were awesome speakers set on curved wood stands in each corner of the room.
What?
I didn’t do anything.
And I thought he should know that and not mistake it.
So I yelled it, leaning toward him and everything.
“I didn’t do anything!”
He came at me, fast. I retreated, not as fast. I hit something, went into freefall and my bottom landed sideways in a chair, back to a cushioned armrest, legs over the other one. Knight leaned over me, one hand to the top back of the chair, one hand in the seat beside me, face an inch from mine.
God, God, God, he was scaring the hell out of me.
Why was he angry? At me!
“You put on that dress, didn’t you?” he whispered and it was sinister.
“What?” I whispered back.
“You… do not… leave your house… dressed like that… without being on the arm of a man like me,” he ground out on a terrifying staccato with scary pauses.
“A man like you?” I whispered.
“A man who’d shoot another man in the face he even looked at you. Yeah, Anya, a man… like… me.”
He meant that. He meant that. Every word. God, he meant every word of that.
“Knight, you’re scaring me.”
Yep, still whispering.
“Good,” he bit out, his eyes moved over my face for a while then he growled, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck… me.”
What now?
No, no. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want VIP vouchers either even though I could possibly sell them on the internet for half the cost of opening up a mountain retreat spa.
I just wanted to go.
Now.
“Can you move up so I can get up and get out of here?” I requested cautiously.
“Tomorrow, I’m giving you breakfast. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
I blinked.
Then, yes still whispering, “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Bullshit. Nine. You say no again I’m givin’ you breakfast anyway but only because tonight, all night, until morning, you’re tied to my bed.”
There it was. The whole body shiver I wasn’t sure was good, as in very, very good or bad as in very, very bad.
“Knight,” I breathed.
“Nine.”
“I have a client at eleven,” I blurted and his head jerked as his brows shot together.
“A client?”
“Acrylics. Um… fake nails. Standing appointment every two weeks. Her name is Shirley,” I explained though went overboard on the information because I was freaking out.
He stared at me and I felt my entire body heat from the infuriated blaze coming from his eyes.
Then he said, “Lunch, one.”
Oh God.
“Knight –” I repeated.
“Lunch, Anya, one. You come to me. My place. I don’t get a call up at one, the boys find you and bring you to me.”
He meant that too. God, he meant every word.
“You’re scaring me,” I told him quietly and honestly.
“Good, then you’ll do what the f**k I say,” he bit back. “Now, I’m gonna go, send up a drink and you’re gonna drink it while you wait for me to find a man I trust to take you out back so no man’s eyes are on you as you walk through my club. He’s gonna put your ass in a car and take you home. He’s walkin’ you to your door. He’s also doin’ a walkthrough of your place. You give him shit, he’ll tell me and I’ll punish you. Are you with me?”
“Not really,” I whispered.
“You will be,” he whispered back, pushed off and stalked to the door.
By the time he got there, I’d pushed myself up in the chair but had not been able to scramble out of it before he pinned me to the spot with his eyes.
“That dress, babe, you wear it again, it’s only for me.”
Then he disappeared through the door, I heard it lock from the other side and he was gone.
Chapter Five
Wars Fought Over a Face Like This
Call me crazy, heck, even I thought I was crazy, but the next day, at quarter ‘til one, I was in my car heading to Knight’s high-rise.
I did not call the police.
No, not me.
But I did call Vivica and Sandrine and gave them the lowdown because, if I disappeared, I figured someone should know where to begin to search for my body.
Last night, shortly after Knight left, a waitress came in accompanied by a bouncer who was there, I knew, so I wouldn’t try to escape.
I tried ordering a sparkling water again hoping that if Knight got that pissed that Nick put his hands on Sandrine, he wouldn’t order a bouncer to wail on me for ordering water.
He didn’t. They retreated and in order to attempt to calm my terror, I looked around.
The walls were a rich, warm red, not blood, bordering on wine. A huge, dark wood desk covered in stuff. Knight worked, that was obvious. Laptop, multi-line phone, papers and folders strewn, two (that I could see) expensive-looking pens lying on top of papers, big manila envelopes, etc. There was a high-back black, swish-looking swivel chair behind the desk, in front of it, two supple, burgundy leather chairs. There was a matching sofa against the wall, in front of it a dark wood coffee table. In a corner, another dark wood table, this round with five, burgundy leather chairs surrounding it. A long, low chest against the wall opposite the couch, on it were bottles of booze. No fancy decanters. Just a bottle of Jack Daniels, one of Grey Goose, one of Tanqueray, one of Patron tequila. A variety of heavy, cut, crystal glasses. Down from the booze and glasses, a smooth piece of warm-colored wood intricately, artistically and interestingly carved into the shape of a voluptuous female’s torso from neck to top thigh, arms wound behind her back, the wood and curves of her figure all waves, undulating with the grain. It was fantastic though I didn’t want it to be because that would say Knight had good taste (or even better than I already expected) and I didn’t want to think anything good about him.
But there was further proof of it in the prints on the wall. Enormous panoramas of black framed, cream matted, black and white shots of Denver skylines.
There was a credenza behind Knight’s desk also covered with work detritus. On one side there were two narrow cases with glass fronts that held a whopping huge collection of CDs. Mounted on the wall was a slim but tall CD player that held ten CDs. It was a work of art, I’d seen it on the website of where he bought me my phone and although I didn’t check the price, I knew it had to cost way more than my phone. To top that, there were awesome speakers set on curved wood stands in each corner of the room.
