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I almost fly past the heavy double doors and have to slam to a halt when she turns slightly and her shoulder bumps into my chest. My gaze sweeps her surroundings.
She’s alone. She’s fucking alone.
Sagging with relief, I take a closer look at her. At first glance, she seems okay—relaxed and happy even. But she slightly sways to the side, and her eyes appear glassy.
But God, she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world.
The eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes. The brown wavy hair tied severely, with tendrils escaping the ponytail and sticking to her forehead and the sides of her face. The smudged dark whatever over her eyelids. The smattering of freckles across her cute button nose and full cheeks. The bold red lipstick on her pouty lips.
And of course.
The dress clinging on to every curve and dip. It’s hard to keep my head when she looks like this. Katherine is so close I can smell a whiff of her favorite perfume.
I’m so busy staring at her like an idiot that I almost don’t catch her as she leans to her side. “Katherine, are you all right?”
She whirls to me, eyes blazing. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”
It doesn’t escape me that this is our first conversation. “I work at Astor’s. It’s my job to know everyone in the building.”
Fucking lie. The only one who matters to me is her. The other employees can burn for all I care.
“Why are you here alone, Katherine? Where are your friends?” I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of girls with her when she arrived.
She snorts. “I have no friends. They left me when they realized I wasn’t footing the bill.”
“Let me take you home.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
I take out my ID and hand it to her, my fingers accidentally brushing hers. She sucks in a sharp breath and pulls her hand back like she’s just been electrocuted. Her eyes are wide when she fully takes me in, but she shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts.
“It’s my company ID. You can call HR or the head of security to confirm my identity. You can even send a photo of this ID to anyone.”
She tentatively takes the ID and reads it. “Your name’s Kieran Knight?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like a made-up name.”
My cheeks hurt from stifling a grin, but my humor dissolves when she gives me back my ID and shrugs. She doesn’t even call anyone or double-check if I’m lying through my teeth.
Jesus Christ. This is why looking after her is a full-time job. Fine. Stalking. I’m stalking and not just ‘looking after her.’ Semantics. Semantics. Anyway, she’s always a bit careless about her safety, and that keeps me on my toes.
Katherine massages her temples and sighs. “Fine. I’ll let you take me home, only because I can’t find an Uber. Where’s your car?”
I lead her to my parked 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda in raven black. It’s my pride and joy and the first thing I bought with my biggest paycheck. It’s not exactly subtle, and it’s always guaranteed to make car guys and girls salivate, but it’s always been my dream car.
And it’s in convertible form, so basically, there are fewer than a dozen others like it in the world.
I open the door to the backseat for her, and when she’s comfortably seated, I jog to the driver’s side and slide in. I’ve just slid the key in when she whistles and runs her fingers along the black leather seat.
“The company must pay you well, Mr. Knight.”
“Please call me Kieran, and I’m fairly good with finances.”
“‘Kay. What’s your position in Astor’s again?”
“You didn’t see my ID?”
