Ruthless Knight: Chapter 3

I stride toward the handsome man staring back at me.

When he does a full sweep of my body, my trembling legs feel like they’re going to dissolve into pools of water.

His gaze wanders over my body from head to toe with whispers of sin emanating from his stare.

I’m still in the young and inexperienced department, but I can honestly say I’ve never had a man look at me the way he is. As if he wants to strip off my clothes and devour me right here with everyone watching.

The thought and the look send a sudden rush of liquid fire pumping through my blood. I have to swallow hard to chase away the sensation.

I’m not by any means a nervous person, but this guy is doing all sorts of unexpected things to my body.

As I get closer, he straightens, looking like a giant in comparison to my five feet and four inches. And my God…

From afar, he was already gorgeous, but up close, his face and muscular body are a whole other masterpiece. I would definitely have to say that he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in all my twenty-four years.

His straight nose and square jaw give his masculinity a sharp edge. Fire dances in his arctic eyes with a hint of predatory menace, tangoing with the overhead light beaming down on his obsidian hair.

His hair is so dark that against my platinum blonde, we must look like night and day.

He’s what you call dangerously beautiful. Being around a man like him wouldn’t make you think twice about losing yourself in him. Among other things, like dignity and common sense.

When I reach him, I try to summon confidence despite the bats fluttering around in my belly.

“Hi,” I say, mentally giving myself points for channeling my inner Marilyn Monroe. “Here at your request.”

The beautiful man stretches out one long arm with a thick Rolex strapped around his wrist, and the corners of his lips lift into a sexy smile. The sight makes me think of forbidden things I shouldn’t contemplate. Definitely not when I promised Dad I’d give Nathan a chance.

But Dad isn’t here right now.

I take his hand, and he gives me a brief handshake. His hand is warm and dominating in contrast to my dainty one.

“Knight Grayson,” he speaks in a deep voice that matches the opulence of his presence.

I work his name through my mind and confirm I definitely haven’t heard of him. Trust me to be the only woman in New York who hasn’t heard of a man who’s been in the news for a month.

“Pleased you accepted my request,” he adds. There’s a slight accent to his voice I can’t quite place. It makes me believe I was right about him being from the Mediterranean. I’m not sensing Italian, though.

My father works with a lot of Italians at Wright Investments, so I’d pick up on the accent straightaway.

“Me too. I’m… Aurora Wright.”

“Nice name.”

I smile back at him, appreciating the compliment. “I’m glad you like it. Thank you for the offer to join you for a drink.”

“I figured you’d have more fun with me than staring at your plate.” His voice pours over me, warm and cool like light rain on a hot summer’s day. “Food not to your liking, Goddess?”

Goddess?

Me?

I’ve been called beautiful several times in my life, but goddess is next-level perfection. Coming from him, it feels like a huge compliment when he’s the one who looks like the statue of a Greek god come to life. The closest I ever got to being a goddess was in tenth grade when I played Persephone in the school play.

When Knight intensifies his stare, I remember he asked me a question. About the food. The food that Elena is now clearing away.

“No, it wasn’t the food.” I place a hand to my heart, as if to give my words more truth. “I’m… just kind of having a bad day.”

He searches my face. “I see. Well, maybe you’ll have a different kind of night with me.”

“Maybe.”

He flashes me a crooked grin and motions toward the frosted glass doors leading out onto the terrace. “Follow me.”

When he moves, I fall in step with him, and he presses his palm to the small of my back, radiating ripples of heat through my body.

My day already feels like it could be different because of this unexpected turn of events. I wonder how the rest of the night will play out.

We walk onto the terrace, where we’re bathed in a mixture of moonlight and amber from the overhead lights. The same metallic colors of champagne and burgundy inside the restaurant are out here.

One of the new waiters approaches us with a gracious smile.

“This way, please.” He waves toward the furthest booth in the VIP area, and I understand why this section is booked out for months.

With the wooden gazebo built around the seats and long white curtains flowing down like wings, it looks like something you’d see in the Caribbean. The ships in the harbor behind us add to that vision.

The waiter seats us, then stands by Knight to take our orders.

“A bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac, please,” Knight asks, his accent thicker. Now that I’ve heard it clearer, I guess it to be French.

I also haven’t failed to notice how he ordered a thousand-plus-dollar bottle of wine as if it were water.

“Sure.” The waiter gives him a curt nod and leaves us.

Relaxing my shoulders, I stare back at Knight when he looks at me. The light of interest in his eyes reignites that heat I felt moments ago.

“I like it out here.” I nod, taking in the view.

“Thought you might.”

I smile at the thoughtfulness behind the comment but tamp down the bubble of excitement rising inside me.

I need to remember that this is just a drink, not a date, and no matter how ridiculously gorgeous Knight Grayson is, I need to be sensible.

Even if it’s hard.

He places his elbow on the table, making things even harder when he leans in, and our knees touch. “So, what made your day so bad?”

Should I tell him?

I quickly mull over what I could say and decide that telling him the truth might be harmless. It’s not like I have to go into all the details.

I take a quick breath of the cool night air to steady my mind, then I think of the easiest way to begin. “There was a job I really wanted, but I didn’t get it.”

Sympathy softens his godly face, but the emotion looks as odd on him as an ill-fitted suit. As if sympathy is not an emotion he often expresses.

“Sorry to hear that. What kind of work do you do?”

Good question. Right now, I’m all over the place, from writing to managing Sunset Cove, another big change in my life. One thing, however, has been consistent—writing.

“I’m a writer. I want to write for a lifestyle magazine.”

That’s the ultimate dream, but currently, the only writing I’ve been doing is erotic romance novels and serials under the pen name Cordelia Harris. It’s my side hustle and a well-hidden secret I’ve kept for the last three years. Again, nobody knows about it except Madison. Mom knew, too, but due to the nature of what I write, we agreed to keep it from my father.

For as loving and nurturing as he is, Dad is strict and old school. He definitely wouldn’t be too happy if he ever found out what I do on the side.

“Sounds like a good career choice.” Knight dips his head.

“It will be.” If I ever make it. With the spell of bad luck I’ve been experiencing, that dream is getting further away from me. “What do you do?”

My question comes with the confirmation that I know nothing about this man who Elena deemed as one of the most sought-after in New York.

Pride spreads across his handsome face. “Property development. I’m a senior investment manager at Grayson Inc., my family’s business. Essentially, I look for acquisitions. Then I turn them into multimillion-dollar investments.” His tone gives off a mysterious vibe. Like there’s something hidden beneath the meaning of his words.

Maybe I’m being paranoid. God knows I’ve been the classic worrywart lately, so anything that doesn’t sound right to me will appear mysterious, but I brush the notion aside and school my mind.

“That sounds exciting but like a lot of work.” And there’s no way I would have known about his background. I can’t quite blame my recluse lifestyle on my lack of knowledge on who’s who and what’s up and happening in New York. I just didn’t grow up that way. Unlike most of these socialites and debutantes who float around ignorant of reality, I had a different life once.

“Like everything, it has its darker moments, but I do enjoy my work.” He sits back, and the moonlight catches his eyes, making them seem almost opaque.

“That’s always good.” I think of what else we can talk about to keep the conversation rolling. I’d hate for that awkward silence people fear to sneak up on us. His accent comes to my mind, so I choose that. “Do I sense a hint of an accent in your voice?”

“It’s French.” He confirms my previous assumption, giving me a wide grin that unleashes deep dimples I’m tempted to swim in. “My mother is French. My brother and I were born here, but we lived in Marseille until I was fourteen.”

“Oh, wow. France sounds amazing. I hope to go there someday.”

“You should. It’s an amazing country.”

I love hearing about people who have lived in other countries and those who have traveled.

The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path draws our attention toward the sound. It’s the waiter coming back with the wine and two long-stemmed glasses.

“Your wine,” he announces, setting the glasses on the table. He uncorks the bottle, pours us each a glass, then places the bottle on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Not at this moment,” Knight replies, glancing back at me. “I’ll send for you if I need anything more.”

The waiter bows and leaves us once more. I watch him make his way down the path to where the other booths are, and I think of how far away we are from everyone else.

Knight picks up my wine glass and holds it out for me to take.

“Thank you.” I take it and sip at the same time he drinks his. The wine tastes sweet and flavorful. The combination is intense, but so good I could drink the entire bottle. “This is delicious.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Knight places a finger on the label on the bottle. “This one always has a great mixture of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot.”

God, his accent. It’s so sexy when he speaks French words, I’m tempted to ask him to say more.

“You sound like you know your wine.” I grin.

“I know a good thing when I see it.” The tone of his voice and the glint of desire in his eyes suggest he’s not exactly talking about the wine.

He sets his glass down, and that desire in his eyes I previously witnessed deepens. “So, other than the fact that you’re beautiful and you want to be a writer, what else should I know about Aurora Wright?”

The mixture of calling me beautiful and the sensual way he said my name has me flushing like a shy schoolgirl talking to the most popular guy.

“I’m sure… there are other interesting things about you.” His voice dips to a hypnotic timbre that makes my pulse gallop.

My cheeks burning, I ask, “What do you want to know?” I sound as if I’m an open book aching to be read. But I’m so far from that. Even if I were, there are many things I can’t talk about. It’s just nice to flirt and pretend I can.

Knight’s gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there for far too long. Longer than what’s socially acceptable, if you can call looking at someone’s mouth acceptable. But I have a feeling the general rules of society don’t apply to this man.

When his eyes move from my lips, and down to my breasts, my nipples tighten and pucker as if he caressed them with lust-filled invisible fingers.

My entire body is electrified from the sight of him assessing me, and my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

When his gaze eventually climbs back up to meet mine, he places a finger at his temple.

“Tell me about your writing. How did you get into it?”

The question surprises me. From the salacious way he looked at me, I expected a different question. It seems he decided to go with a safer topic than whatever was on his mind as he checked me out.

“I did a piece for the school paper in my sophomore year of high school,” I answer. My heart expands at the memory of the opportunity that changed my life. “I was filling in for one of the other writers who came down with chicken pox. The piece I did was so good, the head decided to keep me. Everything sort of took off from there.” The longing in my voice makes me sad that I haven’t accomplished my dream yet.

“Tell me more.” He looks genuinely fascinated to hear more.

I smile back at him, proud to talk about my accomplishments. “I did my first internship at Time Magazine. It was only a summer placement, but I loved it.”

I continue telling him about my writing journey while we drink, then our conversation switches to traveling, where I listen to him regale me with stories about all the countries he’s visited.

Soon, I loosen up completely, and it gets to a point where we stop pouring glasses and start passing the bottle between us as casually as if we do this all the time.

Quite possibly, the wine could be the reason I’ve mellowed out. I’m not over my limit, but the wine was stronger than I’m used to. Thank goodness I’d already decided I was going to take a taxi home.

Time fades into the ether while we captivate each other. It’s not until the lights go out in one of the buildings across the street that I glance at my bracelet watch and nearly jump out of my skin when I see it’s a few minutes before midnight. We’ve been talking for a little over three hours.

I can’t remember the last time I did that with anyone. The closest time I can think of is staying up late with Madison at summer camp. But that was eons ago. Neither of us has time like that now. Even when we take a girls’ trip where it’s just the two of us or with our other friends, we never talk for as long as we used to.

And here I am, talking it up with a man I’ve only known for over three hours.

Knight looks at his watch, too, and straightens.

“Late?” He quirks a brow.

“Yes. I should probably get going.” Except, I’m not ready to step back into the shoes of the girl I was when I first got here. I’m dreading it.

“Do you want to?” His words come out a little like a challenge. As if he’s daring me to tell the truth.

I feel like I can’t lie. Although, on this occasion, I probably should.

“No.”

“Then stay.”

I chuckle. “I think the restaurant’s going to be closing soon.”

“They’ll stay open if I want them to.” His words exude arrogance but are tamed by the flirtatious wink he gives me.

“I don’t doubt that.” I smirk, leaning my head to the side as I give him an amused stare.

“Then you should stay.” His voice drops on that last word, and the sensuality in his deep tenor makes my stomach flutter.

Heat rolls over my skin again like hot coals. I want to indulge in the feeling and allow it to take me to wherever this could go, but that voice of warning returns, reminding me to be sensible.

It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other. That attraction is as tangible as the empty bottle of wine on the table, so staying is something I shouldn’t entertain.

“I shouldn’t stay.” I bite the inside of my lip.

“Shouldn’t? What if I want to see you again?”

He wants to see me again?

An angry blush sweeps over my body, and I know there’s no way I can hide my reaction, especially since I want to see him again, too.

Whether it would be good or bad for me, I’d actually love to. Tonight was the most fun I’ve had with a man in years. Years.

I almost felt like the old me during the time we’ve spent together.

But… realistically, stretching this out is going to make everything worse. At the stroke of midnight, I’ll turn right back into a pumpkin with the shitty life I was trying to escape when I came here. The sensible thing to do is use the little resolve I have left to thank him for a great evening and call it a night.

“I probably shouldn’t do that either.” Saying those words feels wrong.

I’m surprised when he gives me a wide grin. “I’m hearing this word again—shouldn’t.” He narrows one eye and stares at me as if he’s trying to probe into my mind. “Perhaps if you say you can’t, I’d be more inclined to believe you.”

Can’t.

Given that I really can’t, that word should be easy to say, so I try.

“I….” I try and fail miserably.

And I know why.

I failed, and I’m still failing, to say the words because this handsome stranger has awakened my body with a carnal desire I know I shouldn’t entertain but want to. I should chase the feeling away and focus, but it’s been so long since my body has been given any attention and adoration, I’m starving for both.

It doesn’t help that Knight is looking at me again as if he wants to consume me, with a wanton darkness of lust lurking in the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly, I’m momentarily breathless, caught in a war of emotions that seems to have snuck up on me.

Noticing my conundrum, Knight inches closer, and I become hyperaware of how close we are. We’re so close we’re sharing the same air.

“Having trouble?” His voice almost takes on a sing-song edge.

“My life’s a little complicated at the moment.” That’s the best way I can explain my situation without going into any of the unsavory details.

“Complicated? That’s the same kind of asshole word as shouldn’t.”

“I know.” My voice dips to a reflective whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But…” His gaze rivets to mine, and he searches my eyes again.

Eagerly, I wait for him to continue. The interest inside me rises with each passing second.

I realize when his smile widens that he wants me to ask a question. That but was some sort of invitation. Like dropping breadcrumbs and waiting for me to follow, but where is he going to lead me? I’ll only know if I ask the question.

“But what?” I ask.

Knight inclines his head. As if on cue, the wind sweeps a lock of his hair over his eye, ruffling his neat perfection and making him look more rugged. Sexier.

“What if… I made it easier for you?” His voice pumps temptation through his words like an aphrodisiac, piquing my interest even more with another handful of breadcrumbs.

“How?” Another question he wanted me to ask.

One thick finger floats down to the pulse point on my wrist, and raw heat spreads through me, fueling the desire I’ve been keeping on a tight leash.

The simple touch takes control of my body. And I think he knows.

The wild, possessive look on his handsome face suggests Knight Grayson is fully aware of the effect he’s having on me. He has been all along.

“What if…” His voice breaks purposely, like before, and his chiseled jaw hardens. “What if I told you I want you?”