Page 14 of Knight

And am I so fucked up I forgot the whole thing?

I’m standing near Damien’s bedroom door before I even realize where I’m heading. The first time I came here blends with the events of that morning. His body was as soft as the light entering the room, his voice as comforting as his touch—before it all came crashing down.

“You speak French,” Marion’s voice comes from the room and as I tip-toe closer, I don’t expect the one that comes next.

“I’ve learned a little something,” Isaac’s voice follows before Marion giggles. The sound of clinking glasses comes next. “But you can teach me more, baby.”

“Ssh, ssh, ssh.” That sounds like Marion before I take a few steps back. I hear the click of the door locking before their voices get muffled.

What the fuck was that?

My mind goes from a daze to a whirlwind as I turn around, moving away from the door. Rounding a corner, I’m faced with a narrow hallway and another set of black double doors. One’s cracked open, the sound of a running faucet inside. Peeking through the cracked door, a large king bed sits in the middle of the room, dead animals for an excuse of rugs on either side. The dark decor and glamorous furnishings scream Sebastien King, so does the plaid jacket hanging off a shiny coat rack.

There’s a damp trail of footsteps leading towards another set of doors. A thud comes from behind it, then a familiar grumble, words in Spanish. My eyebrows lower, “Christian?” He jumps when I crack the door, but I’m startled too. Christian stands inside the bathroom shirtless, his tanned pecs as chiselled as his abs. “Shit, sorry!” I explain, “I heard a noise and I—”

“Come in.” He peeks around me before pulling the door closed. He has his shirt in one hand, his blazer hanging off the side of the gold plated sink. The bathroom is large and spotless. Spacious with a glamourous industrial theme. Carved stone for a bath, an exposed showerhead in front of large windows.

He continues dabbing at his shirt with a fluffy white towel. “When Lea said we should give him a shower, I didn’t expect one of my own.” He flashes a Colgate smile, one that helps to thaw the ice growing around my heart.

“Damien?” I ask, my voice still a shake, doing a horrible job at playing off the fact that I saw him minutes ago.

Christian nods, holding up his shirt, his efforts showing no results. It’s hard not to eye those lean, hockey player muscles, his biceps catching the light. “Should’ve gone with black.”

“Here.” Reaching for his shirt, I need this distraction. Anything. “Got a hairdryer?”

His shoulders drop as I perch on the counter, Docs swinging below me. Christian reaches for the shelf under the sink before he pulls up a giant blow dryer. “Thanks, Jo. Hope it’s not too much.”

“I should be thanking you.” Taking the hairdryer from Christian, I plug it into the outlet beside the sink. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Shaking his head he stops me. “I didn’t want you being alone. You’ve been through enough.”

Another weak smile comes on my face as I start the hairdryer. It’s quieter than the ones I’m used to, Christian sitting on the counter beside me.

“So, how you holding up?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Crazy out there?”

I shrug. “It’s a goddamn party.”

“Wouldn’t be Eden if it wasn’t.” Christian scoffs.

“Your folks aren’t here?”

“They already had a meeting scheduled with their lawyers this morning.” Christian’s head falls back against the mirror. “They should be swinging by but I hope they don’t. They can be a bit much.”

The hairdryer starts to do its job. “If they’re anything like the Archibalds, I know what you mean.” I try my best to impersonate Nancy’s taught voice. “Wear this. Come to that. And don’t you dare make me look stupid.”

Christian laughs, putting on a deeper voice than usual. “Win all the games, Christian. That’s how you become a man!”

I snort at his impression. “Is that your dad?”

His cheeks redden. “Sure is. He won’t quit until I go pro like he did.” Christian watches as I move the dryer to another part of his shirt. “They think they can tell us what to do when they’re more lost than we are.”

Christian’s right, but it reminds me of something similar Damien said before. I nod, my attempt at small talk drifting away as the King’s words enter my head again.

Didn’t you?

“You alright?” Christian’s hand comes to my back, his warm touch shaking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s … my stomach.”

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