Page 62 of Shaken Knot Stirred

“Mr. Knightbridge. I don’t know who you think I am but…”

“Moxie,” her name left my lips with a growl. “I know who you are. I know what you taste like. I know what it feels like to be inside you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her lips insisted, but her eyes told me that was a lie.

I put my arms lightly around her and switched our position so that I was now sitting on the edge of the marble counter. She was nestled perfectly between my legs, but I only touched her with my fingertips on her lower back.

“You’re in trouble. I can help.”

“You don’t even know me,” she snorted and rolled her eyes. That wasn’t part of this little masquerade she was running. That was Moxie, my Moxie, the take-no-shit owner of the Delta Lounge, warning me I was out of my depth with whatever shit she found herself in.

I grabbed her by the throat with a light touch.

“Look at my aura and tell me I wouldn’t burn the world down right now for you?” I knew nothing about auras and how they worked, but that was my truth.

“Alistair.” Her breath was ragged. Conflict raged in her eyes. I stroked her pulse with my thumb. “You can’t.”

“I’m not holding you here. You can leave at any time. But Iwillfollow you.”

“Don’t,” she breathed, leaning into my palm. Then she ripped herself away from me. We both groaned like it physically hurt.

Five steps in that pretty dress took her to the door. She pulled it open and paused. “You’re the promise of a dream I can’t have.” She said without turning. The door eased shut silently.

I flung the door open just in time to see her slip into the elevator. Alpha speed couldn’t get me there before I was shut out with a merry ding.

I tore back through the club, not giving a single fuck. I scattered people, and my brother shouted. The service elevator had an express button. I’d beat her to the ground floor.

Chapter 34

Moxie

Alistair.

Oh no, it wasStar.

Star fucking Knightbridge.

I fanned myself with my borrowed clutch. I was wearing too much makeup to cry. I tipped my head back and gulped at the air. The doors opened into the lobby prematurely. I needed more time to collect myself. I cracked my neck and smiled demurely.

I could still pull this off. I could still give Beg what he wanted.

I refused to turn around, not even a glance up at Sanctum in his vague direction. The only way I could pull this off was if Alistair never existed.

I strolled across the lobby and strong-armed the door, ignoring the fluttering attendants. Beg’s ridiculous truck loomed like a threat across the wide circular drive.

Damn it. I couldn’t do this.

“How the hell do I get off this damn island?” I snapped at one of the doormen who reared back as if I had actually slapped him. Paramour was in the Floating District, a series of islands and barges just off the coast. There was only one bridge to service the pleasure district.

“I could call you a car, ma’am,” the doorman stuttered.

“Quickly,” I responded.

I felt the engine rev in the pit of my stomach. I saw that hideous truck just on the other side of the pristine little garden inside the drive’s circle. Fucking Beg had tracked me here.

“Quickly,” I said again in sharp staccato, pronouncing it like two words. Beg made a slow rotation through the parking lot.

“This is bullshit.” I turned and stormed off as fast as my borrowed shoes could carry me. I had zero clue where I was going but I was sick of being penned in and corralled.

---