Chapter 14
Iordered water. The bartender poured it into a crystal glass like it was champagne.
“Water? At an open bar?” Archibald’s voice came from behind me. “You’re more disciplined than your old boss.”
Son of a bitch.
I turned. Archibald was right there, leaning against the bar, a fresh champagne glass in hand. His eyes were unfocused, cheeks flushed.
“I’m working,” I said.
“Right. Working.” He said it with air quotes. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what it is.”
“Sure.” He moved closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You know, I’ve been wondering. What kind of work does Knox have you doing, exactly? Filing? Scheduling?” He lowered his voice. “Or is it more. . . personal?”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on.” Archibald’s smile was ugly now. “I saw you with that actor in New York. I know how these things work. Rich guy, hot assistant, close quarters. . .” He gestured vaguely. “Nobody judges. Hell, Knox could use someone to help him relax. Guy’s wound tighter than a fucking spring.”
“You have the wrong idea. And you need to back off.”
“Why? Worried I’ll blow your cover?” He leaned in. “Though I gotta say, I’m surprised. Didn’t think Knox was into guys. Or maybe that’s part of his whole angry act. Compensating for something.”
Everything in me went cold.
“What did you just say?”
“I’m just saying, it makes sense now. Why he’s so aggressive on the ice, why he can’t keep his shit together.
Must be hard hiding who you really are in this league.
” Archibald’s eyes glittered. “And now he’s got a hot assistant following him around.
People are gonna talk, Matthew. And in this league? Talk sticks.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” He reached out, fingers brushing my arm. “You could do better, you know. Knox’s a ticking time bomb. He’s gonna crash and burn, and you’re gonna go down with him if you’re not careful.”
I jerked my arm away. “Fuck off. Andrew isn’t—”
Archibald laughed. “Andrew? Oh, that’s sweet. You’re on a first-name basis.”
“He’s a better person than you too. He actually gives a shit about this charity, about the animals, about doing something meaningful. While you sit there getting drunk and running your mouth like the pathetic asshole you are.”
“Careful.” Archibald’s smile was gone now. “You’re just the help. Nobody gives a fuck what you think.”
“But they give a fuck what I think.”
We both turned.
Knox was standing three feet away. I hadn’t heard him approach. His hands were in his pockets, posture deceptively casual, but his blue eyes were ice.
“The hell are you doing, Archibald?” His voice was surprisingly quiet.
“Just having a conversation.” Archibald straightened up, trying to look sober and failing. “Your boy here was getting defensive about you. It’s cute, really—”
“Touch him again, and I’ll break your fucking hand.”
The bartender suddenly found something very interesting to do at the far end of the bar.
Archibald held up his hands. “Relax, Knox. I wasn’t—”
“Yeah, you were.” Knox took a step closer. “You’ve been making your little comments, thinking you’re clever. You’re not. You’re just drunk and pathetic.”
“This is a charity event—”
“You don’t talk to him.” Knox’s voice dropped lower. “You don’t look at him. You don’t fucking exist near him. Clear?”
Archibald’s face flushed red. “The hell? You can’t tell me—”
“I just did. And if you have a problem with it, we can step outside and handle it like we handled things on the ice.”
The threat hung in the air.
Archibald looked between us, calculation in his eyes.
Then he laughed, sharp and bitter. “You know what? This makes so much sense. The anger issues, the fighting, the whole protecting your teammate bullshit.” He swayed slightly, smile widening.
“You’re just a no-talent, closeted fuck-up who can’t handle his own shit, and now you’ve got this pretty little—”
Something in me snapped. It wasn’t panic or fear. It was rage, hot and immediate, burning up my chest and down my arm.
I moved before the thought finished forming.
I swung.
My fist connected with his jaw with an audible crack.
Everything stopped.
Knox’s head snapped to the side as he stumbled half a step, catching himself on the bar.
Wait. . . Knox?