Page 54 of Fighting Mr. Knight

All the Bradshaw crew look nervous, but Max tries to hide it.

“Max, is this the full team?”

His brow furrows. Just as he is about to respond, one of my assistants opens the door and Bonnie rushes in.

I’m late, which means she is very fucking late. I check my watch. Twelve minutes to be precise.

“Sorry,” she says without even looking at me, scanning the room for an empty seat.

I clench my teeth, my anger only slightly tempered by disbelief. “Did you have somewhere better you need to be?”

She gapes at me.

Maybe I wanted to make the other groomsmen jealous.

Her eyes are red and tired looking. What the absolute fuck? Is she hungover?

I take in her blue dress and laced-up boots, which look like flat biker boots. On her, they are sexier than stilettos.

“Personal issue,” she mumbles, squeezing past everyone to take a seat at the back only to realise there isn’t enough room. “Sorry, excuse me” she mutters as she reverses, finally taking a seat at the front.

I glare at her. She thinks she can swan in at any time she likes? “I have thirty minutes so it’s in your own interest not to waste my time. You just wasted two.”

The room collectively inhales a breath and holds it.

She nods, looking contrite enough that I decide to let her off the hook.

I turn my attention back to the room, pausing to roll my sleeves up. “I’ve built urban villages all over the UK but this project is special to me. If you haven’t already figured out by the accent, it’s where I call home. We’re not just building shiny apartment blocks. It takes a lot more to take an existing community entrenched in working-class culture, and sensitively build a whole new community for thousands—two thousand new jobs, 2500 people to rehouse. Community centres, schools, new parks, new health centres.”

Everyone’s eyes are glued to me, with one exception.

Bonnie stares down at the table. She’s on a different fucking planet. Every so often, she glances over at Max like some lovesick puppy.

My nostrils flare. No one has disrespected me like this since. . .well. . .never.

Nobody.

“Businesses will look to the east for headquarters as they would Bond Street and Canary Wharf. The economic benefits are enormous for an area that has been neglected for too long. I need a brilliant team to create that equilibrium between building a new progressive community while keeping our heritage alive.”

Bonnie looks at me briefly then it’s back to staring at the table.

“You have a great responsibility,” I continue, eyeing up the team. The rest look as eager as they damn well should be. “You will be transforming a London historical landmark. London doesn’t have a car industry anymore, but that grey factory sitting idle was the backbone of the East End for years. It provided jobs for thousands.”

As I launch into the details of my regeneration plan, Bonnie doesn’t look up once. Not once.

Max asks a question as I glare at Bonnie. I answer him and move on. The more senior members of the team pepper me with questions and I reply through my growing annoyance.

Sean steps in to answer the finer details.

“You’ll be collaborating closely with the teams working on the other phases, so you’ll move into our office until construction tenders are ready for the building contractors,” I add. “We’ve allocated an open-plan space close to the Lexington team overseeing the project.”

Bonnie looks down at her hands as if this is the last place she wants to be. Is she even fucking listening to a word I’m saying?

“Bonnie,” I growl through my teeth, “do you have any questions?”

Her eyes hit mine like a cow caught in headlights. Her mouth opens and then closes.

“Are you incapable of hearing me?”

---