Loveless Knight (Sins of Knight Mafia Trilogy 3)

“There used to be a land line in here.” Knight walked the small perimeter of the cabin. It only took a few seconds. He rubbed the side of his square jaw. “We’re not going to be able to communicate here, are we?”

I shook my head. “No. This won’t work. If you’re going to lock me away, I have to be able to use my phone. And what about Kimble? He’s going to text when he lands at the airport. What if he gets in early? He has no idea where I am.”

“Damn it.” His short-term plan was already falling apart. “I don’t like that you can’t call me if you need me.”

“I don’t either. Hide me in the trunk?” I teased. “Then I can text you all through dinner.”

He huffed. “Funny. It won’t be for long. Just an hour. Two at the most. I promise. I’ll get back as soon as the Castilles tip their hand.”

“You could get roped into drinks. Business that has nothing to do with Crew,” I argued. I didn’t want to stay in the cabin.

“Let me go to dinner. I’ll be back with food and then we’ll figure out where we go next.”

“Together?” I pressed.

“Yes. Together.”

He circled his arm around my waist. “I know this isn’t where you want to be. I’ll be back. I swear. I wouldn’t leave you here.”

I nodded, willing myself, pushing myself to trust him. To believe him.

His thumb stroked the side of my cheek. I didn’t think I could feel excitement today. But Knight had unearthed it from a dark place. Exhumed a sliver of happiness when I thought it had been extinguished. He summoned it to the surface as his mouth covered mine. If I could just breathe him in maybe the world would be okay again.

8

Knight

Her kiss was still on my lips. Her voice in my ear. I had to clear my head.

I checked my phone again before walking into the Castilles’ restaurant. I didn’t want to be glued to it over dinner, but the fact that it had remained silent all afternoon was starting to make the uneasiness in my chest expand. Who had Crew? What kind of a sick game were they playing?

I wasn’t about to give in to my sister’s worry, but her instincts weren’t off. That was hard for me to admit.

“Knight, what a surprise.” Margaret Castille air brushed a kiss on each cheek before turning to my sister. “Seraphina, you never bring anyone to dinner. This is a treat.” She greeted us outside in the restaurant’s portico. A valet had taken my car. The archway was covered in ivy and long ferns dangled around us.

“I hope you don’t mind, Margaret.” I took her hand. “Seraphina mentioned she was meeting everyone, and I thought I’d tag along. It’s nice to see family.”

“It’s always nice to see family.” She beamed. “Where is Felicia? You could have brought her with you.” She looked past my shoulder as if my mother would magically pop out of a row of hedges.

My inward resistance to going anywhere with my mother wasn’t something I was going to share with Seraphina’s in-laws. “She has other plans tonight. Maybe next time.” I bit my tongue. She was likely on her second bottle of wine, wandering the house, yelling at my father’s portraits, and barking at the house staff.

Seraphina’s nervous laughter was almost too telling. I gave her a gentle poke in the back to put her in check. We needed steady actions.

“That’s too bad. I’m sure it’s hard to be alone now. I really can’t imagine. You should bring her, dear. I can’t imagine how she spends her time without your father around.” She turned to her own husband. “Look, Knight came to dinner with Seraphina.”

“I see that.” I shook Louis’s hand. He had a good strong grip beneath fat knuckles. I regarded the large gold ring on his hand. The Castille crest was formed from diamonds. It sparkled when it caught the light from a nearby gaslight.

“Thanks for having me.” I looked around. The steakhouse was crowded with diners. I saw business meetings underway. Dates. A birthday dinner as we were guided through the tables and into a private dining room. Brandon was inside. He barely noticed when Seraphina sat next to him. From what Seraphina said, it was normal for her husband to ignore her.

The rest of the family gathered. A server opened several bottles of wine and placed them on the table.

I’d spent Sundays as a child squirming against wooden backed pews, meant to keep my spine straight. My mother tossed warning looks while my father checked his watch in between the priest’s movements on the alter. I’d inhaled the smokey incense and lit candles after mass. It always seemed meaningless. An exercise in building tolerance for the ceremony. As I sat watching Louis Castille, I flashed back to those moments, kneeling behind a pew, complaining about my knees and my father’s growl on my neck to endure. To shut up and listen.

“I think we should toast the evening.” Louis raised his full glass in the air.

My sister had already been given a glass of sparkling cider. She joined her father-in-law by raising her glass.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked. I wondered if this was it. If this was in fact a celebration of taking down their son’s competition. I couldn’t believe they would be blatant enough to brag about it.