Page 68 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“The Lewis estate.”

The largest social housing estate in that area. He’s in the catchment of the regeneration project. “We’re rehousing him.”

She nods.

“Right, well, you have three choices.” I fold my arms over my chest, mirroring her. “One, you get a lift with my driver. Two, you get a lift with me on my motorcycle. Three, we run to your dad’s house together.”

“Or option four, I do what I want because I’m a grown woman, and I run home alone.”

“No. Absolutely fucking not. Pick an option from the three.” Options two or three only.

She skewers me with a glare. “You can’t stop me from leaving this building by myself.”

My jaw tightens. It’s approaching eleven o’clock and I don’t want to stand here arguing all night. “If you’re in my building, I have a duty of care. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep unless I know you’re safe.”

“You don’t have a duty of care if I’m the one that decides to work out-of-office hours. I’ll email you as soon as I get back.”

I swear under my breath. Why does the woman have to be so stubborn?

She goes to walk around me, but I take her by the wrist and pull her towards me. “If I let go of your wrist and you run out that door, I’m going to run with you the whole way to your dad’s place.”

She tuts. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Try me.”

Her eyes flare, a war brewing behind the blue. “You’ve been drinking. You can’t drive a motorcycle now.”

I shake my head. “I had one beer at dinner. Hours ago. Besides, I break down alcohol quickly. I’m a big guy.”

“That you are,” she mutters. “So . . . was it a date?”

Her light tone doesn’t fool me. I wonder for a second if I should fuck with her.

“Depends how hot you think the Mayor of London is. It was a business dinner. Come on, you’ve been in the office since eight this morning. You must be exhausted. Let me take you home.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Option two. Motorcycle.”

“Good choice.” I wink.

That makes her even angrier.

“You’re the boss,Mr. Knight.”

“Maybe I overreacted slightly,” I say, sheepishly. “Jack works too.”

“Off the record, maybe you are giving me whiplash,” she mutters. “Wait, why do you have the motorbike with you if you have a driver at your beck and call?”

“You’re about to find out. Come on, grab your things.”

She picks up her bag and follows me to the lifts.

I press the button for the lower ground floor, and the doors slide open. “Ladies first.”

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.” She steps ahead of me into the lift. “You won’t go too fast, will you? I don’t want to be in an accident because of a boy racer showing off his toy.”

I chuckle as the elevator descends. “I got that out of my system a long time ago.”

The doors slide open, and I hold my arm out for Bonnie to exit first. “The last bay to the left.”

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