The next morning, I was standing outside Knight & Son as I chatted on the phone with Ryan. Given how the date had gone last night, he was checking up on me, funnily enough.
“So, you’re doing okay?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I’m doing good, Jamie. They released me first thing in the morning. I don’t want you worrying. But…you know, I would be doing even better if I could see you again?”
Such a charmer. I leaned against the wall with a smirk. “Hmm, is that so?”
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“I’m free for a second go next Monday, if you’re up for it?”
I sighed. “I have my work Christmas party next Monday. But I could do the following Thursday, if that works for you?”
“Thursday. Sure. I’ll arrange something and let you know.”
At that moment, a familiar black BMW pulled up at the curb. I internally grimaced.
“I should go, Ryan. I’ll see you Thursday, okay?”
“Bye, Jamie.”
Mason Knight exited the vehicle in one of his perfectly fitted Armani suits. Over that, he wore an expensive woolen coat with the collar up to keep out the bitter breeze.
“You should get in out of the cold, Jamie, I have no cover for you if you get sick.”
Of course he wouldn’t.
I walked into the building ahead of Mr. Knight, toward the elevator. He wasn’t far behind me. The doors opened, and we stepped in.
He stood alongside me, smelling good, like last time.
As the elevator doors slid shut, sealing us in, Mr. Knight adjusted his cufflinks. The air between us felt heavier than usual. Then, without looking at me, he spoke.
“I trust you’re well rested, Jamie, because I expect nothing less than absolute efficiency from you this week. No distractions. No excuses.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.
“Of course, Mr. Knight.”
What followed was a day—and then a full week—from hell.
And he’d call me every five minutes with some pointless query.
I barely had time to breathe, let alone think. He made sure of it.
But even amidst the chaos, there was an underlying tension in Mr. Knight that had nothing to do with his apparent desire for vengeance over me.
He seemed…distracted. More abrupt than usual, even.
There were moments when he’d stare out the window, a frown creasing his forehead, as if he were miles away. Or he’d snap at a colleague for a minor delay. It wasn’t just me.
Several times throughout the week, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes were deepening. He was usually so composed, so utterly in control.
What was bothering Mason Knight?
On Friday afternoon, I collapsed into my swivel chair, begging for the clock to strike five.
Just as the minute hand edged closer to freedom, Mr. Knight (the father) emerged from Mr. Knight’s (the son’s) office.
He paused at the doorway, fixing his son with a long, hard stare before striding away. Through the open door, I could see Mr. Knight facing the view of London through his window, shoulders slumped.
Curious, I watched Harry disappear down the corridor, then glanced back at Mr. Knight. He still hadn’t moved. Was everything all right? Had they been arguing?
I didn’t care much for Mason Knight, but I didn’t like to see Harry upset.
Suddenly, Mr. Knight’s head snapped up. “Jamie,” he called without turning.
With a deep breath, I pushed myself out of my chair and headed toward the lion’s den.
“Close the door, Jamie,” he commanded as he sat back at his desk. “And sit down.”
I obeyed.
“My father,” he began, leaning back and fixing me with a direct, intense stare, “seems to think I need to…delegate.
He reached into his desk drawer, retrieving a folder, which he slapped onto the desk in front of me. Then he rose, pacing the room with a restless energy.
“Victor Sterling. A developer—a particularly irritating one—is acquiring land adjacent to some protected areas. He plans to build some…eyesore. Resort, golf course. Ruining the landscape.” He stopped, his gaze sharp on me. “We’re going to stop him.”
“We?” I asked.
“I…appreciate the compliment, Mr. Knight,” I began, my voice a little shaky. “But I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m not sure I’m the best—”
He walked around the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. He loomed over me and placed his fingers under my chin as he brought his face close to mine. I dared not breathe.
Then he smirked and let go. “See you Monday.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving me sitting there, my heart pounding, my mind reeling, and the scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
Half an hour later, I met Carmen in Soho so we could hit the boutiques before closing. I tried not to think about the insane project Mr. Knight had just removed from his shoulders to place on mine.
Sure, the experience would be incredible, but negotiating land deals? Setting up shell companies? It was enough to make me lightheaded after the week I’d just had.
For now, I could just focus on what was in front of me and enjoy what little peace I had left.
I loved this time of year: the decorations, the food, the smells. Christmas was my favorite holiday.
Carmen linked her arm through mine and dragged me toward another shop. Today, we were on a mission: I had nothing to wear to the office Christmas party on Monday.
“This is the new place I’ve been looking at online,” she said.
I looked at the shop window and realized it was a costume shop.
“A costume? No way!” I shook my head. “Can’t I just wear something red and be done with it?”
“Everyone will be dressing up, and you’re the new hire. It’s your job to commit to the bit.”
Without any further discussion, she got me into the store, and we started to browse.
There was never any point in saying no to her. She wouldn’t accept it, anyway.
She held up a costume—a red velvet dress with white fur trim and a matching hat.
“Are you serious?” I asked her.
“You’re going to look amazing.” She winked. “And I bet Mason is going to love it too.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” She pushed me toward the dressing room. “At least try it on. I’ll be looking at other options while you change.”
I sighed and walked toward the dressing room at the back of the store. I’d just try it on so she’d be satisfied.
I felt ridiculous as I slipped on the dress. I knew everyone was dressing up for the Christmas party, but it didn’t make me feel any less awkward.
I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like Santa’s sexy helper.
But it wasn’t Carmen who stepped into the dressing room.
My back fell against the rear mirror as his eyes locked onto mine before slowly roving down the rest of my body. His gaze lit a trail of fire across my skin.
“I beg to differ,” he said.
