Page 11 of Devoted
“Knight—” She huffs out a breath. “I worry about you.” Reaching over the desk to where my hand lies on a stack of paperwork, Harriett cups my hand between two of hers.
Guilt seeps into me.
I don’t want her to fret over me. No matter how old I get, she always worries, and I feel horrible every time I give her something to worry about. Learning about my nightly activities wouldn’t go well with her, so I keep the truth to myself. I wouldn’t survive her wrath if she knew I was stalking Vivian, and yet, I have no desire to stop.
“You wanted to go over the guest list for the event next week, correct?” I ask, thankful I remembered what Harriett had come here for.
Slowly, she releases my hand after giving it a stern pat. The gesture is one to tell me she is not done with her questioning, and she will be revisiting the subject.
Well into the evening, my mother and I talk about seating arrangements and guest lists over shared cocktails and food delivery. Her presence eases me, somewhat distracting my thoughts from obsessing over Vivian. Though there is somecomfort in knowing my girl is in the same building as me, a short walk away.
Only thirty minutes remain until we open the doors for the show tonight when I finally escort my mother out of the club. I could tell she was considering staying for the show, and while I’m not against her having fun, I also wouldn’t want to be sitting next to her as she ogles my employees. Thankfully, she commented that she already had dinner plans with a few of her friends.
Walking back to the front doors, I give our head security guard, Bri, a small nod as she stands in front of the quickly forming line of patrons. Most of my employees only ever get small gestures or curt words from me. My professionalism has been a point of pride and a reason why my entertainment conglomerate has done so well for almost two decades.
Which is another reason why mysituationwith Vivian is so odd. I’ve never been interested in an employee or dated anyone in the arts and entertainment business. It’s not a line I’ve wanted to cross, as I assume the fallout of it could be annoying to deal with. Having learned my lesson the hard way, I know it’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.
Even after my reflection, my mind and my body do not communicate, because I still find myself maneuvering backstage to get to Vivian’s office downstairs.
As I open the door to the stairway, a flash of blonde hair takes over my sight line. Correction, a flash of blonde hair belonging to ascreamingVivian takes over my sight line.
My instincts take over, and I fall to my knees, sliding a few inches in my panicked effort to catch Vivian before she fallsforward onto the last step up the stairway. Pain shoots up the leg I injured last night, but it’s the least of my worries.
I catch her with my left arm, sprawling it across her upper chest before her wrists has the chance to meet the concrete. My other arm automatically wraps around her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t slide backward.
Vivian’s eyes are closed like she is still waiting for the impact, and it takes her a moment to realize someone is holding her. Almost as if she can’t believe what she sees, she places her hand on my forearm, the tips of her fingers warm and gentle as they travel through the hair there.
I take advantage of Vivian’s stunned silence to observe her. Her short golden waves are half up and half down in a hairstyle that lets me see more of her face. She wears no makeup today, but she is just as painfully lovely.
I’ve only seen her with her signature lipstick and eyeliner. Without the eye makeup, her eyes shine in a different way. Those hazel eyes stay fixated on my forearm as her breathing evens beneath my hold.
Neither of us has moved in a few seconds, and I hope she doesn’t notice how I cradle her tighter. I can’t help it; she feels so good in my arms. I hate that such a drastic event had to happen for me to get this close to her. Her expression was terrified as she fell.
But why does it feel like I was the one who was falling?
And then she fucking pinches me.
“Vivian,” I chide, and I’m surprised at the rasp that comes with it.
“Did I die?” she asks, finally turning to meet my gaze. The question draws a huff of a laugh from me. “Are you real?” She searches my features.
“No, you did not die.” I shake my head at her, but I know a traitorous smile spreads across my lips. “And I’ll let you know that typically you pinchyourselfduring a reality check.”
Vivian nods, causing a few strands of her hair to fall out of the little bun atop her head. I stop myself from pushing them back in place.
“Oh no! I didn’t do that to you, did I?” She scrambles to get a better look at my forearm resting against her chest, moving it away from herself. There is no need for me to keep holding her anymore as she’s righted herself now, but I miss the sensation all the same. I look to where she drags her fingers over the marks I got from falling out of her tree last night.
“Uh, no.” I pull my arm away from her, but I keep my other arm wrapped around her back. I might be panicking at the possibility of her making the connection, but I would never let her be in danger. If she can fallupthe stairs, I’m sure she can fall down the stairs as well. “These are not from you.”
You haven’t honored me with your marks.
CHAPTER SEVEN
VIVIAN
Please and thank yous.
“Ishould probably get off the stairs, right?” I ask with an awkward chuckle, already raising myself. With a groan, Knight follows me up, keeping his arm behind my back even after I take the last step to meet him at the landing.
