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"You said it." He laughs, before his expression sobers. "How do you feel?"
"The same—" I raise a shoulder. "Yet different."
"Youaredifferent, compared to the man you were when you arrived back from your stint in the enemy camp. Hell, you’re different from the man I knew before that. She’s softening you."
"I’m not sure that’s a good thing."
He scans my features. "What are you afraid of, Knight?"
I laugh. "Don’t try to analyze me, motherfucker." I turn and head toward home, and he falls in step.
"Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face your fears."
"Is that what you did?"
He stiffens. When he replies, his voice is thoughtful. "When I was in the enemy camp, and in the worst headspace possible, when I thought I was never going to see the light of day again, I made myself a promise. I told myself if I returned, I would not waste this second chance I’ve been given."
"You’re a better man than me," I mutter.
"Each of us has to cope with the ghosts that haunt us in the best way we can. You’ll know when it’s time. Just make sure it’s not too late, will you?"
* * *
"I’m sorry, I’m late. I got held up in the finance department and—"
"Take a seat, Mrs. Warren." I gesture toward the dining table that I’ve had put in by the kitchenette in my office. She was right when she said I’m more comfortable here than in my penthouse. The only other place I’m more at ease is the hidden room attached to the closet I had specially created. It's my comfort room, its spartan layout reminding me of my time as a new recruit in the marines. I had few creature comforts then, but the routine and structure of the training program gave me purpose. I felt more in control while I was following the rules and learning discipline.
A control I lost once I was captured. Control I’m trying to wrest back by shaping the future of my company, by creating my own destiny...by dominating Penny. It’s why I feel so compelled to order her to obey my commands. She elicits this powerful need to see her bend to my will. To break her down and build her back up in a form that soothes my broken spirit. To ensure she feels safe and secure, feelings that were denied me.
All of those days when my life was not my own, when I never knew when they’d come for me and pull me out of my cell and abuse me, when I never knew if I’d open my eyes again and see another day, when I didn’t want to live anymore—that’s when I swore if I survived, I'd always stay in control. And if that means sleeping in my hidden room, so be it. It’s bare enough that no-one can hide in corners and ambush me there. It’s concealed enough that no one can track me down.Theycan’t come for me there. They can’t pull me out and throw me into that cavity below the earth.
A cold hand grips my chest, and my breath speeds up. I manage to push away the dread that crawls in my guts and walk over to the kitchenette.
"I hope you like salmon."
"Excuse me?" she says from inside the entrance of the room.
"Salmon, Mrs. Warren, the fish that like to swim upstream and—"
"I know what salmon is. Also, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that?"
"Last I checked, you were married to me."
"Last I checked, this is an office, and you’re my boss."
"And you’re still married to me." I hold the seat back for her.
She looks at it, then back at me. "I thought you didn’t eat lunch?"
"I do now."
"What about your employees out there, who you prefer to also keep working around the clock without taking time off to eat?"
I narrow my gaze at her, then force myself to smooth out the frown on my face. I pull out my phone and type out an email. "All done."
"What’s all done?"
"I’ve sent out an all-employee email that, from today on, everyone is required to take an hour off for lunch from 12:45 pm on."
