Page 93 of Fighting Mr. Knight

He was watching me from the bar the whole time. I might have had one too many Old Fashioneds but I wasn’t imagining that.

So what the hell? What’s the guy’s deal? He clearly gets off on toying with me. Was his plan just to blue ball me or whatever the female equivalent is?

I’m a bloody fool.

Humiliatedis not a strong enough word for how I feel.

Excited voices break the silence as the door of the bathroom opens.

“I couldn’t tell you in front of the guys, I slept with him a few weeks ago. Right here in this hotel.”

“No shit!” a second voice shrieks. “I knew it. I could tell by your face the minute he walked past. Lucky bitch. Ugh, I’m so damn jealous. He owns this place, doesn’t he?”

My stomach plummets. For fuck’s sake.

“He does.” The first one giggles. “That’s why the bar staff are treating me like a queen tonight.”

I white-knuckle the toilet roll holder.

“Damn. How did it happen?”

“Same way it’s happening tonight. I was here . . . he was here . . .” she says in a singsong voice. “The chemistry was off the charts. We talked and . . . one thing led to another.”

I stop breathing in case they can hear me. They must think they’re alone.

Get a grip, Bonnie. Why do you care? You are way too emotional over this.

I haven’t even slept with the guy. This is what happens in the dating pool in London. Nisha’s right, I need to harden up.

I care more than I’d like to admit.

“How was it?” the second asks.

Oh God, please shut up, woman.

“Ama-a-a-zing,” the first says, drawing out the word. “I’ll die if I don’t get a repeat.”

“Have you talked to him much tonight?”

“Enough.”

“Is he interested?”

There’s silence for a moment. Then she laughs. “I’m getting some Knight tonight.”

Her words slam into my chest. That’s why he’s trying to get rid of me. He has better options. I need to get the hell out of this bar.

“Do you think you could get him to introduce me to the tech tycoon he hangs out with, Danny Walker?”

More laughter. And lots of clicking from the camera sound of a phone.

“I think Walker is married. Or has a partner.”

“Forty percent of marriages end in divorce,” the second woman says smugly.

This woman is a bitch.

I pick myself off the toilet seat and breathe deeply through my nose. They’re going to think I have bowel problems being in here the whole time.

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