Page 22 of Fighting Mr. Knight

Of course.How could I forget? That’s why he’s so involved.

Jack’s dad was murdered by one of East London’s deadliest gangs, the Wicks family, not far from the factory.It must have been nearly a decade ago.

I don’t know what to say. Jack might be a bastard in business, but he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “That must be hard. What are you planning. . .for the, uh, spot?”

He smiles sadly. “A boxing gym for young guys. It’ll be named after him. Dad was a semi-pro boxer, you know? That’s how I got into it. I almost went pro myself.”

“That’s really nice. I’m sure he would have loved that. Why didn’t you go pro?”

He pauses. “After Dad died, I never wanted to box again. Not if it wasn’t with him.” There’s a hint of pain. “I threw myself into work instead. By the time I started boxing again, I was too old to compete professionally.”

What the hell do you say to a guy whose dad was murdered, with the story splashed over the papers in gory detail? Jack was pretty famous back then so even though murders are a dime a dozen in London, it still made headlines.

“I’m sure your dad would have been happy to hear you’re boxing again. That must have been such a difficult experience to go through. I can’t imagine.”

He shrugs roughly, and I sense he doesn’t want to elaborate further.

Seems like we all have our demons, even billionaires. Maybe his tragedy is why he’s so ruthless in business today. I wonder how things would have turned out if his father were still alive.

I don’t want to feel sorry for the guy.

He looks at me for a long moment. “Are you okay? You seemed upset when you came in.”

My cheeks heat. He’ssurprisingly astute for a guy who’d been in the middle of firing a company. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Tell me.” His voice softens. “Please.”

“It’s stupid.” I shrug, feigning indifference. “I just wasted time on something. Kate said she wanted something personal in the marquee for her wedding. We talked about displaying photos of her and Sean so I said I would make a mosaic. I got it printed to hang beside the top table.”

He gives a nod of recognition. “I’m not surprised to hear you made that. It took me about thirty minutes to take it all in. So much detail.”

“Oh.” I look at him, surprised. “You’ve seen it?”

“As soon as I walked in. How many photos did you use?”

“Over two thousand,” I admit.

He lets out a low whistle. “Where did you find over two thousand photos?”

“I’ve been secretly videoing them for years.”

He stares at me.

I smirk. “I’m joking. Social media, photos from when we were growing up. It’s frightening how many photos you can find on the internet. Friends and family. You even gave me some, Jack.”

“I did?” He frowns, confused.

“Your PA did.”

His frown deepens. “Did you contact me?”

I deliberated for hours over whether to include his email address. After all, he is a friend of Sean’s, and I asked Sean’s other friends.

In the end, I’d included him. And a lovely PA named Jess responded.

“I hope that’s alright. Jess was really helpful. I think she got the pics from your sisters or mum.”

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