Page 142 of Fighting Mr. Knight

Mollie is his youngest and about six months old.

“You might be married faster, huh, Knight?” Tristan’s lips quirk as he plays with his own wedding ring.

I can’t hide my grin. “Bonnie is incredible. No other woman compares. I’m done.”

Tristan studies me, smirking. “Sweet Jesus. A woman finally capable of taming Knight. How the hell did she do it?”

I shrug. “Just by being her. I’m a simple guy.”

Danny looks at me thoughtfully. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you happy, mate. Bonnie is a lovely lass.” He pauses. “Any more updates on the case?”

I down my Scotch. “We’re closing in. The barmaid from the White Horse was interviewed. She said she saw two guys running away roughly around the time of the incident. She didn’t want to say anything when Wicks was thought to have done it.”

“Does she remember after all this time?” Tristan asks.

“The police are doing a sketch of the two based on her description,” I say. “Then they’ll work their magic and age it. One of them will be the guy Wicks said, Gleeson.” My hands tighten around the glass. “I almost feel sorry for the other poor fucker. I won’t stop until he has the heaviest sentence there is. A fucking unreasonable sentence.”

They exchange glances.

“Let the police do their job,” Danny says in a measured tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply gruffly, downing the last of my drink. “Look, I have to shoot.”

Danny’s eyes narrow as I stand up. “Where the hell are you going?”

I wrestle a grin. “I have to unblock a sink.”

“Fuck’s sake, Knight. You do realise one of the perks of being a billionaire is that you can pay a plumber?”

“What can I say? I’m old-fashioned. I don’t want another man touching my missus’s plumbing. Later, chaps. See you for golf on Sunday.”

“You bloody better,” Tristan mutters as they both scowl.

“Where are you going, Jack?” Alexia purrs as I ask for my coat. “I’m planning to have a nightcap with you.”

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I have a girlfriend.”

She laughs in my face. “Sure, Jack.”

Fuck’s sake.

***

Thirty minutes later I’m in Bonnie’s flat, grinning at her like a desperate dog with his owner.

“You didn’t need to leave the guys early, Jack.” She looks more exhausted than Danny.

Her pyjama T-shirt is looser than it should be. I worry she’s training too hard for the marathon. All she seems to do is run, work and fuck me…hard.

I sink into the couch, exactly where I’m supposed to be as Bonnie curls up beside me. She tries to keep her eyes open but after minutes her head falls onto my chest.

I brush strands of hair away from her sharp cheekbones, careful not to wake her. With her mouth slightly ajar and face scrubbed of make-up, she looks younger than her twenty-eight years.

I could watch her sleep all night.

Her eyelids flutter and I wonder what she’s dreaming about.

I know I don’t have her completely yet. Not the way she has me. There’s something stopping her opening up.

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