19. Knight
Chapter Nineteen
KNIGHT
Yes, I was using her sense of responsibility to manipulate her. Because I was a vile piece of trash that she’d never stay with, even if I was the last man on earth. But she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. As if I had those.
All in all, I felt way too high by the time she’d fallen asleep, curled up, of her own free will—mostly—in my bed.
And now I had to give the rest of my apartment an overhaul before she woke up.
Original paintings were out, but nice prints would be fine.
My mother would be a schoolteacher, which explained my college degree and the way I ate.
What had my mother actually done? Other than stay away from her only child?
No idea. It would be so nice to build a fake mother who was a schoolteacher who loved kids and gave me lots of snuggles.
I’d miss her so much, because she was dead, like my actual mother, and then Trixie would give me a hug when I told her about it.
I shook my head. That couldn’t be ethical.
Trixie deserved the ethical version of me.
I’d worked hard to have one of those. But Trix loved hugs.
She gave them to the weirdest people, like she could sense that you didn’t get enough love.
Not usually men, although she hugged Jordan a lot.
She needed hugs and cuddles. It would be completely ethical to lie about my childhood so that she’d be forced to give me what she actually wanted for herself.
Maybe.
Probably not.
I’d have to ask the Saint about it.
I smiled and inhaled a deep breath filled with the scent of my wife in my bed. Not my wife. Unless it would be ethical to marry her, since I’d be protecting her with my name. Would it be? I’d have to call the saint to double-check, but I was sensing a strong no.
After a long look at the beautiful lump in my bed, I stepped out into the hall, almost running into Charles.
He was lean, mean, and very good at mixed martial. He was also stable, mentally and emotionally, my best all-around security and personal details man. He was one of the few men not interested in Trixie. That might be the biggest qualifier to his place as the best personal secretary I’d ever had.
Behind Charles were four of my gorgeous bodyguards, each dressed to kill, looking at me like I was dirt to them.
Were they going to play out a breakup scene?
I didn’t do those. I’d have to have real relationships with women to break up with them.
No, they were angry because I didn’t call them when the security threat came to light.
Behind them were the hotel manager, Pensky, and his assistant, Willis. Both of them looked like sharks because they were. They’d take an attack on their hotel personally.
Once I had the door securely closed behind me, I clapped my hands and smiled broadly. “First and most importantly, what is your favorite kind of cracker? Charles?”
“Animal,” he said with a straight face.
“Ladies?” I said, smiling at the scowling bodyguards.
“Pretzels,” “Goldfish,” “I hate crackers,” and “What?” were their answers. Disappointing all around.
“Gentlemen?” I asked Pensky and Willis.
“Miss O’Hara’s favorite crackers are saltines, no off-brand, and the almond crackers from the organic shop,” Pensky said, which was the absolute right answer. But also zero fun. Which was as expected.
Willis added, “She likes her saltines with soup. Tomato and butternut bisque. The other crackers she’ll take with a zesty pesto. Perhaps some Kalamata olives sprinkled on top would not be amiss.”
I pointed at him. “Perfection. Do you not like crackers, Willis?”
He got a bashful look on his face. “Sir, I prefer breadsticks.”
I gave Pensky a look. He gave me a flat smile in return. He didn’t consider a personal answer professional, so he wouldn’t give me one, even if I tortured him for it. The man could cope with torture. He’d have to if he ran my personal hotel.
I bared a smile at him. “All the crackers. All the dips. All the possible hydrating options for the precious mother of my child.”
Pensky’s brows rose, but the rest of his face was expressionless. “Of course, sir. And the security breach? Or breaches, I should say, as there were several.”
I glanced at Charles. What we did was probably considered security breaches to Pensky, who didn’t appreciate interference in his hotel. Even if it were my hotel. I cleared my throat and patted Pensky on the shoulder.
“Exactly. We must be vigilant. Pensky, Willis, see to the guests. And the security. Ladies, Charles will have orders for you, but you won’t be attached to my person in the future.
You will have work to do, subtly covering the parts of the hotel where Miss O’Hara frequents.
Specifically, around this area while she’s resting. ”
“Sir, since you interfered with whoever attacked your…mother of your child,” Vicky said, not calling Trixie my wife. Mother of my child was every bit as dangerous, though. “Won’t the threat move to you? You’re the obstacle that will need to disappear to get to her.”
I beamed at her. “I love the sound of that. Yes. I’ll be the target. And I make a very nice, large target, don’t you think?”
She made a noise that may have been agreement but probably wasn’t and turned and walked away. “Charles will let us know.” The ladies split up, taking the different sections of the hall, faces impassive.
Pensky was frowning at me. “Is Miss O’Hara actually staying with you of her own free will?”
I sighed deeply, happily. “Almost. Of course the threat against herself is the largest motivating factor, and she wouldn’t stay with me if I was the last man on earth, but she did curl up on my bed for a nap and send me to get her crackers, so maybe?
I don’t know how long she’ll stay with me.
Hopefully, we can resolve the threat quickly, and she can live more comfortably in her own quarters, but it may prove to be an unruly tangle.
” Like her hair. What kind of product would be good for her curls? I needed to do research.
Pensky and Willis gave me polite nods and then followed the women towards the elevator.
I turned to my secretary. “Charles, my quarters need to be moderated. Educated, yes, because my single mother was a school teacher, but prints instead of originals, books and paintings.”
“And the piano?” he asked without blinking, but he did pull out a device and stylus to take notes.
“It came with the apartment, so I’ve been practicing. My single mother school teacher knew the importance of music in education. Maybe she was a kindergarten teacher.”
“Or you could tell her the truth before you get tangled in your own web of deceit. Miss O’Hara will not appreciate being lied to.”
I waved a hand. “She won’t appreciate anything about me, so the point is moot. I’m just trying to make her more comfortable in my life. She deserves some security in a world as tormented and mad as this.”
“Your torment and madness, you mean.”
I smiled at him. “Did you know that Trixie ‘Dragon’ O’Hara is sleeping in my bed at this very moment?”
He blinked at me. “I believe you mentioned it.”
“If I have Trixie ‘Dragon’ O’Hara sleeping in my bed of her own free will, what madness or torment could there be? Life is a song.”
He grunted. “You have an appointment with Dani Divine in five minutes. She’s already waiting. Shall I tell her you can’t make it?”
I didn’t want to talk to one of Trixie’s vigilante dames. I might feel like she’d be a better option for Trixie’s protection than me, considering my own issues. “I have an appointment with her? I thought that was tomorrow.”
“Yes. It was. Now it isn’t. Almost as though someone hacked into your scheduling system when they heard about your house guest.”
“House guest? Oh, you mean the precious mother of my child.”
“She isn’t actually the mother of your child,” he said drily. “You should probably keep that in mind.”
I scowled at him. “Yes, but do you have to be so right about it?”
He sighed heavily and pushed me in the direction of the elevator. “I’ll make an appointment with your therapist.”
“No, the Saint. I need to talk to him. I’ll count that as therapy.”
“He won’t appreciate it, but I will find him and invite him here at his earliest convenience.”
“Thank you, Charles. You’re a gem.”
I took the elevator. Once inside, I pushed the button with the bowler hat, trusting that the hackers were out of my hotel and it would take me to the room where I kept my chair collection. Also, my therapy couch.
When I walked into the office, hard steel pressed against my throat, bringing me to a sudden stop.
“Give me a reason not to slit your throat,” my favorite client hissed in my ear. She smelled like strawberry milkshake.
I took out my phone and started pulling up the feed from last evening’s kidnapping.
“Do you think anyone you call will get you in time?” she snarled.
I sighed heavily and felt the blade slice into my skin. And now I was bleeding. It would probably run into my shirt, but I was wearing a black t-shirt. Blood wouldn’t show.
“No, I don’t. I do think that your husband would be jealous that you’re pulling your knives on another man. Watch the feed, Miss Divine.”
“It’s Mrs. Dagger.”
“Of course it is. Well?”
She watched the scenes play out: Trixie in the lobby, the elevator, her collapse, and then the feed being cut.
She finally pulled away the knife and slipped around me so she was facing me. “I didn’t see that feed.” Her face was a study of icy disapproval. Because she’d also hacked into my hotel cameras. Pensky had said there were several breaches.