Page 62 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“Morning, Jess. It’s Bonnie from Bradshaw Brown. We’ve spoken before over email. You helped me get some pictures together for the mosaic for Sean’s wedding.”

“Ah, yes, Bonnie!” Her voice floods with warmth. “Thanks for sending me a picture of the final thing. It looked amazing! Kate and Sean must have been delighted.”

“Umm, yeah, I think it went down well. Thanks so much for your help.” I clear my throat. “Listen, Jess, I’m hoping to speak to Mr. Knight for five minutes today if that’s possible? Could I schedule a meeting?”

There’s a pause. “I hope you’re okay after yesterday.”

So, everyone knows.

I let out a sad little laugh. “I’m calling to redeem myself.”

I canfeelher sympathy down the phone. “He’s back-to-back with meetings all day. Let me see what I can do, Bonnie. I’ll call you back.” She pauses. “Oh, and I shouldn’t be saying this, but it sounds like you got unlucky yesterday. He’s not usually that hot-headed.”

I know she’s trying to console me, but it somehow makes me feel worse. “Thanks.”

At least I tried. A large part of me is relieved I wasn’t put through.

My phone buzzes.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

Jack Knightflashes up on the screen. It’s his personal number.

Gah.

“Good morning, Mr. Knight,” I say in my most professional tone.

“Bonnie.” His voice is low and hard, a growl rather than a greeting. In the background, there’s a lot of noise, like he’s walking fast.

See,that’swhat I’m talking about. The guy kicks me out of a meeting, fires people in front of me in a hot tub, gives my number to random guys, not to mention fires my dad, making him an all-round brute.

Yet my pulse goes from resting to racing just from hearing him say my goddamn name.

I make a mental note to go on a date with Christopher, the guy I’m messaging ASAP.

“I’d like to personally apologise to you for yesterday.” I’m proud that my voice is strong.

“Come and apologise in person.”

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Would you like me to schedule a meeting?”

“No,” he says gruffly. “Come down to the basement. Last door on the left.”

Thank God I had the good sense to get into the office early.

I take the lift.

With each floor, my stomach becomes more unsettled. He’s not going to make this easy if he wants to see me in person at this hour.

Apologise, and move on. In a week, it’ll be forgotten. In a few months, you’ll have your promotion, get on the register and can jump ship.

My pep talk does nothing.

Why the hell am I meeting him in the basement? Besides the gym and access to the carpark, I can’t remember what else is down here.

A morgue?

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