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No…!
“Arthur…Who is the one following me?”
“The big one. Knox.”
The image of the one called Knox flashes in my mind… those broad shoulders and especially those mouth-watering arms.
I take it back.
This is bad.
Very, very freaking bad.
I stand up, resigned to deal with my future, because I know that, just like Arthur won’t ever change my mind, I can’t change his.
Woohoo genetics…
“Also, give this to the Harknetts,” he says, passing me one of his hundred leather envelopes. Though this one is thicker than most. “And Cillian? I know you paid off five of our pilots to refuse to fly the helicopter. I won’t punish them for not following orders, but don’t get in Harknett’s way again.”
I snatch the envelope, glare at him one last time, and head to the dining room.
I step inside and find the Harknett team already finished with dinner and talking to Charlie, our head of security, with an annoying level of competence.
Even Charlie is staring at them in shock.
“…need at least a twelve-man rotation for the island itself, not including perimeter surveillance.” Logan turns to Björn. “Go pick up Leif and do a preliminary sweep to find all weaknesses in the island’s ingress points.”
“There are no weaknesses,” I tell them, and the whole team looks at me and—are they… grinning? “The cliffs are too high, the beachside is guarded, you can only reach it by boat or helicopter, and the entire coastline is monitored by a militia.”
Knox laughs, and it’s a sound I find both hot and incredibly irritating.
“Give them until tomorrow’s lunch. They’ll find at least four ways into your island.”
“I don’t like hiring overconfident staff. They tend to fuck up every single time.”
“It’s not overconfidence; it’s a fact.” Knox closes the distance between us, his eyes locking onto mine, and man… they look greener at this distance.
He leans in and glares at me. “And we are not your staff.”
“We’ll see about that… For now, take this.” I slam the envelope against his stomach and regret it instantly.
Fuck, it’s like hitting a wall.
Even through the fabric of his shirt, my fingers can feel the ridges of his abs and the warmth of his skin.
What the hell does this man eat?
Cars?
An electric and completely unwanted jolt shoots up my arm.
My fingers itch with a sudden urge to flatten my palm and feel more of him.
Ugh…
I hate him.
I snatch my hand back and glare at him. “Now, follow me. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
