Page 48 of Fighting Mr. Knight

Maybe

My finger stops abruptly.

Nice.

Christopher. Six-foot-four. Nice manly face. Gorgeous eyes. Recruitment manager, not a layabout. Pictures seem normal enough. No dick pics. Oh, he looks good in a suit. He looks like he could be Spanish or Italian. Annoyingly slightly like Jack Knight . . . I’ll click for some of this.

I swipe right to connect.

And . . . we match immediately.

Oh my God, Christopher loves me. This is way better than my therapy and it’s free!

The instant gratification . . . oh my.

Our future flashes before my eyes. Our kids are going to be gorgeous. Christopher is originally from Wales, so he’ll have a lovely accent. Not that gruff cockney tone.

I’m not sure if I’d want to settle down in Wales if it comes to it, but I would be willing to negotiate.

Maybe Christopher has a pierced nipple and a big dick.

Bonnie and Christopher. Bonnifer! It really is meant to be.

I’m a freak.

I’ll wait to see if he messages first. I’m sure that’s the rule. Nisha can help me with the responses.

Time to gain willpower and close the app. I need to cut this shit out. I’m going cross-eyed from the radiation emanating from my phone.

My fingers hover over the browser button.

Except . . . I’m a glutton for punishment.

I type inJack Knightand click news.

What I’m expecting to do with the information I find, who the fuck knows? I appear to have branched out in my stalking.

Jack Knight made me feel like shit.Definitely nothing of interest going on there.

There’s been no new news in the past few hours. Literally hours after the wedding, pictures of Jack and Michelle Allard at the wedding made their way into clickbait. Kate’s gutted she’s not in them.

I click on more images of him.

What the—

It takes me a second to realise the naked man with a massive boner is Jack’s face juxtaposed onto someone else’s body. I know better. That’s not the same dick I saw a few days ago.

Ireallyneed to have my delayed rebound. Tomorrow I’ll strike up a conversation with Christopher.

Then there are the women with him. So many women. In bars, nightclubs, theatres, beaches, water, strip clubs. East End. West End. Miami. LA. Berlin. Sydney. Even the Vatican city.

I type one more thing into the search bar.Archie Knight East End murder.

I remember the night he died.We were used to hearing sirens around our way, but when three helicopters appeared above, we knew something big was up. When it came to the Wicks mob, the police brought out the big guns.

Word spread from house to house like wildfire.

Father of local big shot Jack Knight had bled out, his death caused by Donnie Wicks.Although it seemed they never managed to make it stick to Donnie.

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