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"Forget about a therapist. He’s refusing to meet me or his friends. He, Cade, and Declan were always so close, but he’s been refusing to talk to them or see them since the day he briefly saw everyone at Declan’s place."
"And your parents?"
She grimaces. "My ma’s worried about him but she’s more concerned about her society events, so she’s not going to push it if he says he doesn’t want to see a therapist. My father’s happy he’s returned back to the family business, so he’s not asking too many questions." She locks and unlocks her fingers. "Honestly, I’m at my wit's end about what I can do to help him. It’s one reason I agreed to help him out with his PR. I thought I could keep an eye on him, but I have Cade to think of now. I can’t spend my time trying to make sure he’s okay."
"Whereas I can because I’m single?"
She flushes a little. "I didn’t mean it that way. If you work with him, you’ll have a better idea of how he’s doing. Besides, I’m his sister. Perhaps he doesn’t feel too comfortable talking to me, but he might with you."
I roll my eyes. "That man probably wouldn’t recognize his own voice if he heard it; that’s how little he spoke that day."
"Which is good, right? There’s less for you to contend with. You only have to do your job and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid."
I frown. "Anything stupid like—?"
She looks to the side then back at me. "It’s just, you know, he’s retired from the military. That was his whole life. I thought he’d be a career military guy. But what happened made him lose his faith in his beliefs, in a way of life he had subscribed to whole-heartedly. He’s someone who doesn’t know what he believes anymore."
"Well, clearly, he believes in this company." I look around her plush office. It’s almost as big as the entire flat I’m sharing with Mira. Sometimes, I forget that Abby’s a Mafia princess. As was Solene, which is how the two of them met. They have a lot in common, as do Mira and me. The four of us hung out a lot over the past year while Abby and Solene went through their respective romances and heartbreaks, only to get back together with Cade and Declan. The two of them have their happy endings, and I'm so happy for them. I truly am, even if a part of me wishes I could find someone as devoted to me as Cade and Declan are to their women.
"He wasn’t always like that. In fact, Knight and I hated what our father did for a living."
"You mean, because your father used to be in the Mafia?"
"And because he was so focused on growing his business, he never had time for his family. We swore we’d never be like him. But since Knight has come back, he’s spent hours closeted with our father. A man he refused to meet earlier. It’s very confusing." She bites the inside of her cheek. "Which is why I think having you on his team will help me find out more about where his mind’s at."
"You want me to spy on him?"
"Oh, Penny, you make it sound so bad. I'm just worried about him and want to make sure he's in a good place, mentally, you know?"
"Hmm." I lock my fingers together. "You’re sure the business is legitimate?
She tilts her head. "My father runs one of the largest media conglomerates in Europe, so I have to answer yes to that."
"And you think that’s what your brother wants to do now? Run the company?"
She glances at the door to make sure we're alone, then turns her gaze on me. "I think my brother is confused. I think he’s trying to find something to believe in. And yes, I think he wants some kind of revenge for what happened to him. He’s searching for a cause after losing the one he was so passionate about, and he found it in my father’s company."
I purse my lips. "And you want me to work for him?”
5
Knight
"You want to work for me?" I lean back in my armchair. My jacket stretches across my shoulders. The collar of my shirt digs into my throat. My fingers tingle. I want to rip off the tie and fling it across the room—or perhaps, use it to blindfold the wide-eyed gaze of the woman who’s staring at me from the doorway of my office. Her blue eyes are large, round, and surprised, her pink lips slightly parted. Her blonde hair is streaked pink and halos her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing a suit—which is, you guessed it, pink—with a skirt that comes to above her knees. It hints at her plump thighs. Thighs which would be creamy and soft and perfect for marking with my fingers. My dick twitches. The first sign of life I’ve felt there since my escape from the enemy.
Darkness. Black. Pressing down on me. Sweat. The acrid scent of my body odor, the thick stench of my own piss and shit. The cold wraps its arms around me, my muscles quivering and twitching under my skin to generate some warmth. My arms are pulled up and tied to a rope attached to the ceiling, and I’m balanced on tiptoes. Every time my eyelids close and I nod off, I stumble forward, and my restraint stretches tight. I jerk upright. Don’t open my eyes. Let the quiet settle around me, except for the drip-drip-drip of water in some corner of the basement I’m being held in. Then with a clang, the door to my prison squeaks open. A shudder grips me. My guts churn. My heart jackhammers against my ribcage. No, not yet. I’m not ready, I—
"Hey, you okay?"
The noise in my mind retreats enough that I can focus on the pint-sized woman who’s staring at me. I glare at her, and some of the color fades from her face.
I keep staring at her, and for a few seconds, she meets my gaze. Then, she shuffles her feet and secures her handbag—also an eye-watering shade of—y-e-a-p—pink—over her shoulder. The silence stretches. I continue to take in her features, the pointed edge of her chin, the soft skin of her throat, which seems like it’s never been touched by anyone except her.
I’d be the first. Her first.A flare of lust unfurls down my spine. In the days since I escaped, I’ve been sure I’d never be interested in sex again. The sight of anyone else made me want to yell at them to get out of my way. In the forty-eight hours I’ve occupied this office, I’ve alienated my staff. Not a great start.
Working on the kinds of missions I did, I had the eyes and ears of an entire team behind me to help me navigate. I owed every successful operation I had to them. When I was captured, it was due to my own carelessness. My unit had never failed me. No one knew the importance of building relationships and fostering loyalty among your crew more than me. Considering that's not going to happen as long as I'm coming to grips with the events of the past six months, it makes sense to have someone act as a buffer between me and the organization. But is that person this curvy Barbie-doll lookalike? I’m not sure.
"Hey!" Her fuchsia heels sink into the carpet as she crosses the floor. "Are you okay? Should I call Abby?" She pauses in between the chairs pushed into the opposite side of my desk. "You seem like you’re in a daze." She laughs, a high-pitched wheeze. Nervousness undulates off of her. I draw in a breath and the scent of roses—her scent laced with the sugary-sweet notes of… Her arousal?— fills my senses. I narrow my gaze on her.
