Page 84 of Knight

She knows me too well. “No!”

Willow laughs, “I guess it is Christmas. Insider tip, Elizabeth likes her nog, extra spiked.”

“It’s what?” I stumble at her words, my grip on the rail stopping my fall.

“Christmas! That’s why I called! I wish you were here! Marseille is beautiful but I miss you already.”

My hand comes to my chest. Even though my sister has her crew, I’m happy to still be important to her. “I miss you too, Low. A lot.”

“How’s Cabo?”

“Uh,” I stall. Do I tell her I’m with Damien? I don’t want to worry her so I’ll save that conversation for when she gets back. “Great!” I shut my eyes tight, hearing myself lie to my sister again.

“Did you and Christian—”

“No!”

“Willow?” Damien asks from the top of the stairs and I try to cover the mic with my hand.

When I nod, I’m happy Willow didn’t hear him as she rambles on about all the excursions she’s been on. The things she ate. What she’s seen. Hell, they even gave her an Apple Watch for Christmas. My sister would have never had this opportunity otherwise and it’s hard to ignore that some good could come out of Eden. For the both of us.

“Jo?” Damien calls again.

“Low? I gotta go.”

“Okay! Merry Christmas, Jo. I love you.”

“I love you more. Merry Christmas.”

“Everything okay?” Damien asks after I hang up.

When I make my way up the stairs, I lean against the rail. “Yeah, she wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas?” Damien asks, eyebrows at his hairline.

“Seems so.”

He smirks, taking my hand, as he rises from where he sits. His lean abs and pecs come into full view again. His porcelain skin smooth and inviting as always. “C’mon.” Holding onto the rail, he starts leading me down the steps.

“Where are we going now?” I ask, my body stumbling into a wall as Damien leads me down a long hallway to a big brown door.

“Careful,” he laughs. Damien takes me between his large palms before he opens the door. Hitting a light, we continue down to what smells like a basement. Mothballs and sawdust.

“Are you gonna kill me?” I ask, careful not to go flying down these stairs. He squeezes ahead of me and I stop when I make it into a large room. It’s like a rec room on steroids. Two black felt billiard tables. A large screen in front of plush recliners and a bar that looks bigger than the one at Emilio’s encased in rich dark wood. Something rustles from the door behind the bar and I make my way to it, my feet on the cold hardwood floor. When I’m in front, something glittery and soft lands on me. “What—” A large fuzzy spider sits on my head and I hate that I yelp. Blame the whiskey. “What the fuck, King?”

He stops rummaging around in a room organized with boxes and labels, turning to me over his bare shoulder. “Did you just call me King?”

“No.” My cheeks fill with heat. “The whiskey did.” When I stick out my tongue, he bites his lip and it’s like we’re thinking the same thing but my curiosity gets the best of me. “What’re you doing in here?”

He pulls out a long box before he pulls out two big plastic boxes behind it. “Decorating.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t traditional.”

“I’m not.” He turns a box around to show me the label. It reads, “Halloween.” The box next to his long toe has a white tree on it. He picks it up, hoisting the box on his shoulder while grabbing one of the large plastic boxes with little effort. Kinda like how he handles me. “C’mon, Rowland. Let’s fuck up Christmas.”

* * *

Damien King is full of surprises.

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