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But the Knights never forget.
“Interesting.”
“The Collectors angle?” he asks.
“Only because of your interest in them.”
“I think you know my angle with that. But they aren’t part of this. They aren’t part of anything.”
No, the ones who dared put hands on his daughter are dead.
Not that she wants anything much to do with her father, anyway.
“Family dynamics interest me,” I say. “And you’ll get your list.”
I recount what I learned today and how I’m still trying to find a good time to get into the office on the dock.
“That office?” Smith asks. “Do you think that’ll hold anything of interest?”
“It’d be a good place to hide things, but we should try to find out what clients have shipments come in during the hours past midnight to say… four a.m. From five on, I’d call that early morning shipments.” I tap my pen against the paper I’ve been making lists on. “Any luck on that foreman?”
I can almost smell something in the air, something sensuous and inviting, and the atmosphere seems to charge. I sigh as I wait for Smith’s response, desire licking at my skin.
“He doesn’t bring his work home.”
“Then there’s a locker somewhere in the office.” I click open a file on my computer. In the background of the penthouse, I can hear someone moving around, banging things in the kitchen. Scarlett’s back, but I knew that already. She’s like spice in the air, because I smelled her before I heard a sound. “Or a safe.”
“Getting in there is hard. Someone’s always there. We crossed that office off the list. Too many people passing through it to be a good storage location for classified information.”
I see his point, but I disagree. “The meeting?”
“I’ll set it up for later tonight.” He pauses, and I know what’s coming. “You’re not going to tell me what your personal end goal is here, are you?”
“Would you?”
There’s a silence. “You’re usually a lot colder than this, West. Is Scarlett getting to you?”
“She’s part of my plan.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Part of my fucking plan,” I repeat, more for my benefit than his, before hanging up.
Scents of vanilla and chocolate weave through the apartment, seeping in under my office door. I work a little longer, and finally when I can’t stand it anymore, I close down the computer and lock all paperwork, along with the laptop I was using, in my safe. Just in case. And then I head out into the hallway.
Scarlett’s in the kitchen, baking. Again.
I lean against the counter and wait for her to acknowledge me. She really can be a shit sub. There’s nothing typical about her behavior and how she can change her attitude on a dime.
But that morning really opened up more doors in her. She’s got the beating heart and fiery soul of a warrior, a siren, all wrapped in spiky armor around her pain and humiliation sub alter ego.
She genuinely wants to fight against it all.
And I fucking love it.
Like she knew the exact moment I came close. I was silent, yes, but she went from relaxed to that tightly coiled, straight-backed girl who wants to pretend she rules the world.
Maybe she does in a way, but she also longs to bow to me and resents that with everything in her.
