Page 29 of Guarding Zuri
The phone ring sounded like a jet engine blast, and they tore apart. Daemon cursed and slammed his cell to his ear. “What?” he barked. He stood and exited the room.
Her rapid and ragged breathing filled her ears, condemning her actions. He was her bodyguard, not her lover. She couldn’t use him to run from her grief. One day soon, he would be out of her life, and then what?
That can’t happen again…
CHAPTERTEN
Daemon didn’t need his desire for Zuri pushing through the surface of his calculated and carefully manufactured self-control.Not so calculated.After almost kissing her on the plane—with Blaine and Colin watching—Daemon thought he’d put a clamp on his impulse. There was a professional line he had never crossed. Zuri wouldn’t be the one to tempt him to break that rule.
But they had sat too close. Her warm body pressed against his, her plump lips impossibly near.
And those tears.
Hehatedto see a woman cry. Made him feel helpless—like a failure. His mother had cried in the hospital, full of grief that she was leaving so soon. She had tried to hide it behind her smiles and words of peaceful resolve, but he had caught her once, when she didn’t know he stood at her door. Her frail body in the bed wracked with sobs broke him. He couldn’t do a thing about it. Powerless to change her fate.
Seeing Zuri cry over Joqi’s family had speared his self-control. The strong woman who had fired him in front of the resistance, who ached over the death of her dear friend, crumbled in his arms. Her vulnerability deteriorated his resolve. Compassion was what she needed, but he’d been so struck by her beauty, intensity, and sacrifice for her people, that desire blossomed instead. When their lips touched, and she didn’t pull away, he gave himself permission to taste. And the line that had been so clear, one that had defined his boundaries and limits, had disintegrated with a single kiss. Warm and salty, but just the touch of her hardened his body and set it on fire.
And then his father.
The man’s call couldn’t have been more untimely or unwanted. It was like his father had a tracker on him and knew the second he touched down on American soil. Daemon had promised to call his father’s secretary to set up a meeting—when he had the time and wasn’t on a job.
Now the man was here. Arthur Knight at Knight Shield HQ. The last time his father visited was at its inception. Protective security didn’t interest Arthur Knight; he loved chasing deals in the boardroom. Other than wanting Daemon to succeed him in business, Arthur Knight didn’t bother with Knight Shield except to have his accountant review the books every year for tax reasons.
Not waiting for the elevator, Daemon raced down the stairs.Is he desperate for something? Why come all the way here to discuss the transition?Whatever timeline his father was on, Daemon was going to push it further out. Knight Shield was doing too well for him to turn it over to someone else. And running the whole of Knight Industries would require all of Daemon. That was an impossibility. He was having too much fun flying all over the world, buying the latest in tech gear, and fueling his adrenaline to ever be shackled to a desk—or a woman.
When he reached the main level, Daemon halted. One of his men pointed to the closed door of Daemon’s office. Daemon nodded and then took a deep breath. He walked in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.
Dinner would have to wait with his father demanding an audience. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have cookies. Daemon grabbed a handful of warm chocolate chip cookies and shoved two in his mouth. His guys snickered as he passed. They understood cookies were fuel, and he’d need them to do battle with the elder Knight.
They were also comfort food, which he would need after the battle. Or during. Okay, before, during, and after.
“You know you’ll have to burn that off later,” Blaine said, nodding at the cookie in Daemon’s hand.
Daemon came to where Blaine sat on a sofa eating. “Did he say anything?”
Blaine snorted and spoke around his food. “Your father? Speak to the peasants of the land? Are you joking?”
Daemon took another bite of a cookie. “Then it’s going to be about what it’s always about.”
“The kingdom?”
“The kingdom,” Daemon sighed.
Blaine waved a napkin at him, his voice high-pitched. “Will you wear this for me in battle, Sir Knight?” Daemon slapped the napkin out of his friend’s hand while Blaine laughed. “Good luck, man.”
Daemon opened the door of his office. “Dad,” he said around his cookies. He closed the door and walked to his desk chair. His father had a habit of occupying it whenever he waited for his son. Daemon always suspected he did so both out of a lack of respect and to continue the established hierarchy of dominance. Daemon would never ascend unless his father willed it.
Today, his father behaved out of character. Arthur sat in an armchair across the room, legs crossed, elbows propped up, and fingers interlaced. Patiently waiting. “Son. Took you long enough. I was told you landed hours ago.”
“How many times have I asked you to let me know when you’re coming, Dad?”
Arthur chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You like to see me off-balanced.”
Arthur lifted a heavy salt-and-pepper brow, his gaze scanning him. “Are you?”
Daemon settled in his seat and stared his father down. “No.” He took a huge bite of his last cookie. “Everything is harmonious.”
