Chapter One #3
to protect those in weaker positions. You don’t want to find out how well I
learned that lesson.”
She strode away, those heels of hers clicking on the tiled
floor.
He was making friends and influencing people. Wouldn’t his
mum be proud?
His mother likely barely remembered his name now that she
had her perfect daughter-in-law and perfect grandchildren.
You’re a brute. Just like your father. I don’t know why
you’re surprised Andrea prefers Bryce.
He shut that shite down. He wasn’t going over that again
tonight. His divorce wasn’t going to play through his head like a horror movie
he couldn’t get out of.
He wasn’t going to think about Andrea or his baby brother,
who’d once told him he was the greatest man he’d ever known. Bryce had admired
him when he was young. Then he’d turned into a rotten piece of shite. Or
perhaps it had always been an act and he’d never known his brother at all.
His cell buzzed, and he slipped it out of his pocket.
Normally cells weren’t allowed on club floors, but there were several MI6
agents here and they couldn’t simply not respond because they were playing. His
work was vital and didn’t conform to normal business hours. In the past he
would have been thrilled at that buzz. It meant there was a chance he could
concentrate on work for a while. His commanding officer was a stickler for
rules, and leave was required from time to time.
But now he hoped it wasn’t work. He didn’t want to drag
himself out of here. Turned out some leave was good for a man.
He relaxed when he saw it was a text from Oliver.
Hey, Mal. So sorry to miss you. I sent a text to
Sophy. She’s pairing you up with a sub I’ve known for a while. Fun girl. She’s
in college and has zero desire for anything but a good time.
Mal stared down. Oliver knew his past well, knew what he
needed from an experience. It should make him feel better, but it rather made
his gut tighten. Was that all he wanted out of life now? A good time every few
months with some meaningless woman? He shoved the thought aside. Even if he was
looking to try again—which he was not—he wouldn’t do it here. He rarely got
into London. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. He wasn’t built for long-term
relationships.
She knows I’m not staying? I would love to come to
the club every now and then, but I can’t have anything permanent.
He waited while the screen showed the bubbles that meant
Oliver was replying.
You could if you wanted to, but I understand. I
picked her for you but also for her. She’s gorgeous and sweet. She needs this.
Have fun and know you’re doing the world a service. She can be on the bitchy
side when she hasn’t indulged.
Oliver Knight was one of the few people in the world he
called a friend, despite the fact that the man was younger than him and came
from a completely different world. Oliver liked to act the playboy, but Mal had
seen him do heroic things. There was a core of goodness to the man, and he
seemed to think he owed Mal something. Take one bullet for a man…
All right. I’ll have fun. You do the same in Rome.
It will be a blast. Literally. I’m going to blow the
shit out of a boat carrying weapons to Northern Africa. Wish me luck. I have to
blow the boat and be back in time for the paparazzi to catch me with an Italian
actress. I love this job.
And he was reckless. He was supposed to speak in code or not
speak at all, but that wasn’t how Oliver operated.
Not a secure line. Be careful. See you soon.
He slid his cell in his pocket and felt oddly nervous. Which
didn’t make any sense at all because he was walking into a room where his
partner already consented and knew the score. It was as safe a scene as he
could make it.
When had he started trading excitement for safety? He took a
sip of his beer. It was his first, his only, and he likely wouldn’t finish it
given the time constraints. He needed to be in the privacy room soon.
A sub who didn’t want more than a good time. It made him
nervous. It made him wary, but then what didn’t these days?
He needed to think about the scene, but his eye caught on a
woman sitting at a table talking to what had to be Oliver’s sister. There was
no mistaking her. He hadn’t had the pleasure, but Samantha Knight looked like a
female version of her brother. She had the same bright blue eyes and curly
blonde hair, though hers was significantly longer than Oliver’s.
But the woman she was talking to looked like a goddess.
Golden hair that brushed her breasts. He stared at those
breasts. They were fucking gorgeous. She was seated, but he would bet she was
petite. No more than five five. She would barely come
to the top of his shoulders. If he wrapped her up, she would be completely
surrounded by him. She laughed, the sound carrying over the space between them
and filling his ears. A sweet laugh and a smile that told him she smiled often.
She waved off something Sami said, and even her hands were delicate.
She was the kind of woman he was always attracted to.
Delicate. Entirely feminine. Someone who needed protection. She wasn’t a tiny
thing, but there was an air about her that made him want to shield her from the
world. She was exactly his type. Solidly built, with curves for days and an arse he could grip while he fucked into her, and the sweet