Page 55 of The Knight

Leo pressed his teeth together. “Maybe you should have left the tie at home.”

Zak gave up on the tie and shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. Stay locked in that head of yours. What do I know?”

Leo exhaled.Time to change the subject.“I think this is us.” He motioned toward the door. The brass handle gleamed under the soft light from the wall sconces.

Meeting room S6.

Kat had arranged this in-person briefing, insisting no form of digital communication could be trusted. As soon as she’d confirmed the meeting, he’d flown to England. He rubbed a hand over his scar, feeling the familiar ridge under his fingers. What should’ve been a straightforward security detail in Iceland had spiraled into something else entirely.

But Raptor was involved. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Zak gave the door a quick knock, not waiting for a response before stepping inside.

The room had surrendered to modern efficiency—all blank walls and identical chairs around an oval table. But overhead, an enormous crystal chandelier defied the corporate makeover, painting the walls with rainbow light.

Zak’s eyes tracked the play of light. “Someone forgot to send the chandelier the memo about the dress code.”

The woman at the back of the room turned to face them.

Kat. Holy hell.

There she was. The cause of all his restless, frustrating dreams.

Leo clenched his teeth, wishing it were later in the day—when a shot of bourbon might take the edge off the moment.

No such luck.

Her arms were folded, auburn hair pulled back from her face, framing those striking cheekbones and intelligent eyes. His pulse spiked, an involuntary reaction he hated himself for. No matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check, his body always betrayed him around her. It didn’t help that she was effortlessly stunning in that form-fitting midnight-blue dress, one that highlighted every tempting curve. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in soft waves, and small silver hoops glinted in her ears.

Rein it in, Bychkov.

Now his brain processed the lean man with glasses sitting at the table. His face rang a bell.

“Leonid. It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.” Her voice was pure honey—richer and warmer than it ever sounded over the distance of a video screen. “This is Einar Gunnerson. He’s Head of Research at Hellisheidi. He was concerned for his staff member, Dr. Jonsdottir, and flew out specially for the meeting.”

“Hi. I’m Leo Bychkov. Guardsmen Security. We’ve spoken on the phone.” Leo shook Gunnerson’s hand.

Einar’s thinning hair was finger-combed into nervous disarray. “Yes. So good to meet you in person.” Something flickered beneath his polite smile, but it was gone before Leo could pin it. “Thank you for all the care your team has taken over Freya.”

“Our pleasure.” Leo turned his attention to Kat. Her handshake caught him off guard. Professional, brief—yet the fleeting contact sent electricity skating up his arm. “It’s good to see you too, Kat.” He kept his voice neutral even as that familiar pull tugged at him, the one he’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Kat’s gaze shifted to Zak. “Zakhar Bychkov. One of the Bychkov brothers. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Landon.” Zak eyed Leo. “I hope we can be of service.”

“Yes. The work you did with Alina Anderson on locating theArchitectwas impressive.”

“Nothing like trying to find a needle in a freezing, pitch-black haystack at the bottom of the world.” Zak grinned, delivering the line with his trademark charm—the one that in the past led to spontaneous phone number appearances and occasional wedding ring removals.

Leo watched Kat before his brain could override the instinct. Stupid. Zak had eyes for no one but Alina. But old habits died hard—especially when they involved beautiful women and his younger brother. He needn’t have worried. Kat’s gaze swept past Zak like he was part of the furniture, landing back on him with an intensity that made his pulse stutter in his throat.

“Please, sit.” Kat gestured toward the table. “We’ve got coffee. Cookies, even. MI6 is rolling out the red carpet.”

She poured coffee with fluid grace, sliding his cup across the table. “Fox and Knight are en route with Freya Jonsdottir. They docked this afternoon—our car’s collecting them.” She settled against the table’s edge, her blue dress riding up an inch.

Dear God.

His fingers found the table’s edge, the wood creaking under his grip as he sucked air into his lungs. “Thank you.”

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