Page 144 of Knox

I look down to find a guy standing right in front of me.

He’s noticeably shorter than Cillian, mid-twenties, wearing a hideous shirt buttoned halfway down his chest and layered with four long diamond necklaces.

Jeez…

“Are you here alone?” the guy slurs, stepping right into my space and reaching out to drag his bony fingers across my chest.

“I’m on duty, so please step away, sir,” I say, but the tacky, rich drunk doesn’t listen.

Screw this.

Annoyed, I flick his hand away, but instead of getting the hint, he laughs, finding my rejection hilarious.

Fucking creep.

He sways closer, letting his weight fall right against my body, proving he’s as stupid as he is drunk.

“Fuck, you are so hot,” he moans, his arms clinging to my shirt. “Kiss me, sexy man.”

“Not interested,” I say, pushing him away, but the fucking money leprechaun is not letting me go.

“Playing hard to get? I love it! Name your price.”

“My price?”

“Yes, baby, your price for a week with me,” he leans closer, “and whatever number you’re thinking, double it.”

A muscle ticks in my jaw, and I am two seconds from punching this asshole in the face, but I stop because of Cillian.

This event means everything to him, and there is no way I am fucking it up.

Especially not thanks to a moron like this.

“Look, dipshit, I’m not for sale. Now move the fuck along before I throw you down the cliff.”

“Oh, don’t be boring,” he whines, pressing his entire weight against me, rubbing himself against my side. “Let me take care of you. I’ll take you shopping to cities you’ve probably never even heard of, like Paris or Milan.”

Pfft!

Please…

Not to brag, but I’ve run four separate operations in Paris, and I spent three weeks in Milan gathering intel on a drug-dealing network Oliver helped us dismantle… and this drunk clown thinks he’s introducing me to the luxury life.

What an idiot.

“I’m serious,” he keeps blabbing, his hand wandering lower. “I’ll pay you a million bucks to fuck me for a whole week. But I swear, once you try me, you won’t even care about the money.”

My skin crawls with disgust as I snatch away his grabby little hand before his fingers can make contact with my dick.

I take him by the wrist, twist him forward, and punch him in the stomach, hoping to stop him from touching me.

Within seconds, his face turns white, his eyes close, and he falls to the floor unconscious.

“You seriously fainted from an uppercut? …Even Finni lasted longer than you in one MMA class with Holden.” I crouch down, check his pulse, and glance over my shoulder, scanning the surrounding area.

Nobody saw.

Perfect.