Page 7 of Knuckles & Knives
He flinches.
I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I can’t afford to be soft right now. I can’t let the memory of the young man who I had my first crush on compromise my mission.
“Fine.” Dom’s voice goes flat and professional. “But I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not?—”
“Non-negotiable.” His tone brooks no argument. “You want to walk into the lion’s den? Fine, but you don’t go alone.”
Marcus watches our exchange with obvious fascination, like he’s taking notes for future reference. “How touching. A reunion worthy of Shakespeare.”
“Fuck off, Marcus,” Dom says without heat.
“Gentlemen,” I interject before the situation can deteriorate further, “can we focus on the matter at hand? If Kieran Frost wants to meet with me, where and when?”
“The VIP lounge. Now, actually. He’s been waiting for you to finish your… business down here.” Marcus moves to his desk and activates an intercom system. “Security will escort you up.”
As if summoned, two large men in expensive suits appear in the doorway. They’re clearly professional muscle, the kind of men who break bones for a living and sleep well afterward.
“After you,” one of them says politely, gesturing toward the door.
I take a deep breath. Meeting Kieran face-to-face is a risk, but it’s also an opportunity. If I can get close to him and earn his trust somehow, I might be able to gather the intelligence I need to bring down his entire family.
“Ready?” Dom asks, moving to my side.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Together, we follow Marcus and the security team out of the office and toward what might be my destruction or my greatest triumph.
The VIP lounge is accessible through a private elevator that requires a keycard to operate. As we ascend, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the polished steel doors—sweat-dampened hair, split lip from the fight, amber eyes bright with adrenaline and determination.
I look like what I am—a weapon wrapped in human skin.
The elevator opens directly into an elegant space that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end hotel. Soft lighting, rich leather furniture, and crystal decanters filled with expensive liquor, but my attention immediately zeroes in on the man standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a commanding view of the fight club below.
Kieran Frost is even more striking in person than he was from a distance. Tall and lean with the kind of aristocratic features that belong on magazine covers, he’s dressed in a charcoal suit that probably costs more than most people’s cars. His platinum blond hair is styled to perfection, and when he turns to face us, those ice-blue eyes hit me like a physical impact.
He’s beautiful in the way that predators are beautiful—all clean lines and deadly grace.
“Ms. Upton,” he says. His voice is cultured and educated, with just a hint of something darker underneath. “Or should I say, Ms. Blackwood?”
The pretense is officially over. I suspected as much. Still, I lift my chin and meet his gaze directly, refusing to show weakness. “Raven will do.”
“Raven.” He tastes my name like fine wine, and something about the way he says it makes heat coil in my stomach despite everything I know about him. “Welcome back from the dead.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”
Kieran’s smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “I’m sure it is. Tell me, how does it feel to stand in your father’s old territory, knowing that everything he built now belongs to my family?”
The taunt hits its mark, and my temper flares, but I’ve had five years to learn control, so I simply smile back with equal venom. “Temporary setbacks happen to the best of us.”
“Temporary?” His laugh is like silver bells with an undertone of broken glass. “My dear girl, your father’s empire has been carved up and distributed. There’s nothing temporary about it.”
“We’ll see.”
Something flickers in his expression—surprise, maybe, or grudging respect. He moves closer, and I catch a whiff of expensive cologne. There’s power in his every move, danger too.
“You have spine, I’ll give you that. Just like Vincent.” His fingers brush against my jaw, a touch so light it’s almost imaginary. “But spine won’t save you from the consequences of coming back here.”
