Page 58 of Fighting Mr. Knight

There are more important things at stake here. I need to make everything right.

He nods to some of the team as he passes, with the lucky ones getting the infamous Jack Knight grin.

I swallow the big lump in my throat and try to catch his eye. “Mr. Knight,” I call after him.

He hears me. He looks me right in the eyes. Something flares in them for a fleeting second, maybe regret, but it’s gone so quickly it might be wishful thinking on my behalf.

His square jaw flexes and he keeps on walking.

I recoil in horror and look at Nisha, who seems equally shocked.

She shakes her head as he disappears into an office at the end of the aisle. “Just leave it.”

I feel every eyeball in a ten-metre radius boring into me. When I turn, they all divert their gazes like I’m Medusa about to turn them into stone.

I resist the urge to flip him off. Behind his back, obviously.

It’s a lose-lose situation. The worst-case scenario is I’m thrown off the project. The best-case scenario is I get to stay on but I have to watch him swagger up and down past me every day, the two of us hating each other.

The only bittersweet win for me is that the humiliation of getting kicked out of a major meeting is that it will distract me until quitting time from thinking about Max’s love life.

“Wine or yoga, which one will help more?” Nisha asks in a low voice. “Or both?”

“I can’t. I have to run fifteen miles after work. Marathon training.”

“Jesus. I haven’t run fifteen miles this whole year. Each to their own. Endorphins are supposed to make you happy,” she adds hopefully.

My eyes travel to the glass boardroom where Jack is seated, talking to about twenty people.

Abruptly he swivels in his chair and his gaze collides with mine. His lips move but his focus is solely on me.

Wincing, I look away first.

Believe me, fifteen miles worth of endorphins won’t even make a dent after today.

16

Jack

The only thing that relieves tension when I’m wound up this tightly is to get the shit kicked out of me by my trainer. He’s an Albanian hard nut who trained worldheavyweightchampions and now wants an easier life. I pay an extortionate amount to have him at my beck and call in the gym, and it’s worth every penny.

“Jack.” Sean knocks at my office door. “Give me a minute.”

Grunting, I beckon him in.

He eyes the gym bag. “Something happened that you need to let off steam?”

“If you’ve got something to say, out with it, Sean.”

He closes the door behind him.

“This better not take long.”

“It won’t.” He smirks. “Shoot me down for overstepping but don’t you think you were a little hard on Bonnie?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Then stop overstepping. No, I don’t think I was too hard. Do you know how everyone else looks when they walk into that boardroom? Fucking appreciative. She looked like she was stuck in traffic on the motorway.”

God, she pissed me off.

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