Page 173 of Twisted Knight

“And your brother,” Holden asks eventually. The sky is dark outside the windows of the jet with dots of light below us wherever we are. “Where do you think he stands in all of this? Gut instinct.”

“I think he’s to blame for the company failing. Yes, the economy plays a factor, and the interest rates affect our loans, our price points, but that doesn’t account for the loss in capital.”

“And where do you think that capital has gone?” There’s an intensity in his eyes. An expression that says he might know more.

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Knight,” Rhonda interrupts, her voice even more sultry this time around.

Holden looks at me and grins before turning to her. “Yes?”

“We’ve been cleared for landing. I need to collect your drinks and plates.”

“Of course,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheek to fight the grin that acknowledges my jealousy.

“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask to distract once she’s left us.

“Not yet, no.”

“Can you give me a hint?”

He twists his lips for a moment and then nods. “We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“Whatever it is you want to. Closing a deal. Getting out of the office. Finally doing something you’ve promised yourself you’re going to do forever.” He shrugs playfully. “Make of it what you will. You don’t always have to have a specific reason to celebrate.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You don’t get to make the celebration rules, Sunshine.”

FIFTY-SIX

Rowan

“Manhattan?” I ask, eyes wide as I stare at him, excitement bubbling up. “Why are we in Manhattan? We have clients—”

Holden’s lips meet mine to shut me up as the limo heads toward the city’s lights. Our tongues touch and our bodies heat up as I thread my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck and his splay across my back. “No more talking about work. We’re off the clock.” Another brush of his lips. “We have plans.”

“Plans?” I ask and then silently freak out at the clothes I have on and my makeup bag being back in the office. Hold up, Row. You’re in New York City. The man just whisked you away in his private jet. This is when you sit back, stop trying to control shit, and enjoy the ride. “What kind of plans?”

He just gives me a shy smile and shrugs, but then wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulls me into his side, and presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

But the waiting and seeing doesn’t take long—the car soon pulls up in front of the Ritz-Carlton. We bypass the front desk and step directly into a waiting, private elevator. Holden nods at the elevator attendant and within moments he is opening the door to the royal penthouse suite without breaking stride.

I follow him in and am surprised to find a team of women waiting there. “Holden?” So many questions in those two syllables of his name.

He leans over and presses a kiss to my lips. “Can’t have you going out for a night on the town without having someone help you get ready.”

“Are you…”

“Serious?” He smiles. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ll be taking these from you because no working is allowed,” he says, removing my phone from my hand and my bag from my arm before turning to the team of ladies waiting for me. “I’ll be over here working. Ladies, she’s all yours.”

Our eyes hold for a beat, so many things I want to say but don’t know how to voice so I try to put them in the one, single look. Thank you.

For making me feel special.

For taking time out to do something.