Page 100 of Knight

“Why did I come here, again?” Allie mutters, pouring herself a glass of juice. She’s always been a responsible designated driver.

Sitting on the black sofa, I’m happy to have the VIP treatment if only for a place to rest my feet. It’s beyond me how people wear heels all day.

Nate settles in beside me, crossing his legs before he leans in. “So, see anything you like?”

I’m scanning the room for Damien before I even realize, glass still stuck to my lips and I’m about to need another. Every guy in here looks the same. Collars popped, stuffy suits. Unlike Damien, they all look like they have something to prove.

“Nevermind, your night is looking up already.” Nate points his chin at a booth towards the end of the VIP section. A guy with curly blonde hair, a broad chest, and golden eyes has his gaze our way. He’s confident. I can feel it in the way he doesn’t take his eyes off me when I glance back. Or the little smirk he gives when he realizes I’ve noticed. He’s wearing a denim dress shirt, beige slacks.

My eyes narrow, the face becoming familiar the longer I stare. “Craig Carson?”

“You know him?” Allie asks. “He’s Edwin Huang’s competition. His son, I mean.”

“And that’ll do just fine,” Nate sings, pushing me up from where I’m sitting. “Time to get this night going.”

“What? No—” I’m attempting to wobble on these six-inch spikes, not like I need the height. When I look back at Nate he gives me another bump and I almost topple over. When I look back at Craig, he’s coming this way, drink in hand, eyes on me. It’s either he doesn’t recognize me or he sees a challenge. After what happened at his mansion, I’m surprised to see his bold approach.

“Jo,” he greets with a wide grin, his pupils as dilated as the last time I saw him. “Nice to see you again.”

“Is it?” I arch an eyebrow, taking in his outfit. He looks a lot better now that he’s ditched the sweater combo, gleaming watch on his wrist. “Guess you can’t kick me out of the club like you did your house.”

“You two know each other?” Nate asks, unable to resist the dirt getting dug up in front of him.

Craig winks when he answers, “Something like that. I see you’re no longer with King.” He brings his glass to his lips, his eyes going up and down my outfit. “You look better without him.”

The minute he mentions Damien, I can feel the eyes of the King boring into me. A heavy, dark presence. When I look to the side, I confirm it. Damien’s in the VIP section across from us, the dancefloor keeping us separated. He’s in his own both, Lea beside him, talking and laughing with a flute of champagne in her hand. Her hand falls on his lap and he leans back, throwing his arm around her and fuck, it makes me want to punch them both.

Turning my attention back to Craig, I try to ignore the devilish distraction and my stomach knotting. “Are you rolling?” I ask. “Like, currently?”

“Why? Do you want some?”

I’m tempted, but the whiskey’s already working its magic when I say, “Let’s dance.”

His smile grows before he takes my hand, leading me down the stairs onto the dance floor. With one last glance at Damien, I give him that look with a side of a smirk.

Nate’s right. The best way to topple a King? Sweat him out.

The minute we make some space on the floor, Craig’s hands come to my waist. I turn around, giving him my back and I hope Damien’s watching when I press my ass into him. He smells like a Hollister store and it makes me want to gag while I try to sway to the music, catching the rhythm. Pulling my hands through my hair like I’m in a music video, it’s easy to add a little sass to my movements. A little extra sultriness.

Craig’s hold isn’t as tight as Damien’s. Isn’t as firm and dominant as the King’s. My mind drifts to him as the song blends into a slower one, Craig resting his chin on my shoulder. “You look incredible tonight, Jo,” he says. “Even better than that night.” I’m imagining Damien behind me, his body pressed against mine and I’m lost in the music, the memories still fresh enough to imagine.

Closing my eyes, I let my body go to the whiskey and the music. Even on a dance floor filled with people all I can imagine is being alone with Damien King. It’s so bad that I can almost smell him and when Craig leans in closer, I swear I hear him too.

“Are you trying to make me angry, Medusa?”

My body stiffens when I realize this isn’t the same guy I started this dance with. Opening my eyes I look at his booth with one less occupant.

“Get your hands off me, Damien,” I warn.

“Your words don’t match your actions,” he says in that low, rolling voice I’ve grown way too accustomed to. “I didn’t feel you pull away.”

And for some reason, I still can’t. My body seems to melt into his hold and before I know it, Damien and I are dancing together? Besides that kiss at the masquerade, we hardly hold hands with each other, but here we are. And I kinda like it.

But I shouldn’t.

We both sway to the music in silence, that firm hold feeling like home. It’s hard to deny that feeling yet again. Pulling away, a knot in my stomach threatens to make me puke. “Where’s Craig?” I ask.

“Might’ve told him I have chlamydia and we fucked all night long. Bareback.”

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