Page 16 of Knox

“It’s fine,” Knox says from right behind me, his voice a low drawl. “We can find a hotel.”

“There are ten guest suites in this house, apparently collecting dust. So, unfortunately…” I scan him from head to toe. “…there’s no need for a hotel. You’re staying here.”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters, matching my glare.

“Lovely!” Alistair steps between us and smiles. “If you please.”

“Kitchen access is that way.” I point toward the left. “Staff contacts and a room for your equipment are at the end of the first floor.”

I turn and gesture further down the hall.

“There are two rooms ready on this floor around the corner to the left, and one more up the stairs to the right. Any questions?” I ask, and they all shake their heads.

“Great. Breakfast is at nine. If you need anything, you can ask Silvie, Mark, or anyone else.”

“Breakfast is at nine?” Knox asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s called beauty sleep. Maybe you could try some.” I turn to Logan and Alistair and nod. “Good night, everyone.”

CHAPTER 3

KNOX

I open the door and walk into a fucking nightmare.

The guest room is big. So damn huge it’s bigger than my entire kitchen and living room combined.

The floors are made of dark wood… which is stupid, considering most of the surface area is buried under three different mats.

On top of the largest mat sits a huge four-poster bed draped in thick curtains, and a sitting area circles a fireplace with an ornate stone mantel.

Ugh… It looks like Richie Rich puked in here.

I drop my duffel onto an antique chair that seems like it’ll shatter under the weight… hell, everything in this room feels like it’ll break if I touch it.

BZZT! BZZT!

I take my phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen.

Logan.

“I haven’t run away,” I say the second the line connects, and Logan chuckles at my misery.

“You’d better not. I bet you’d last two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” I scoff, pacing the floor of this stupid room. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, it’s better than Tae’s.”

“What did he bet on? Two days?”

“Two hours.”

I laugh, picking up a ridiculous little satin pouch that rests on top of my pillow. I squeeze it, and a puff of artificial lavender hits my nose.

Blegh… I gag on the scent.

“Who knows, boss… I might die before that.”