Fighting Mr. Knight: A Billionaire Office Romance (The London Mister Series Book 3)

Lies. Unless you’re a pathological liar, they eat away at you from the inside out, like a parasite.

It’s a dull unease bubbling permanently in my stomach, waiting to rise. I can never forget it’s there.

Technically it’s not a lie, it’s an omission of the truth. It feels just as dangerous and destructive though.

It’s just a ring, I keep telling myself. Just a piece of expensive jewellery.

Jack is, ironically, the perfect boyfriend, despite his lack of practice. Every night he takes me back home on his motorcycle. He doesn’t care where we go, so long as he’s with me.

And every night, I’ve let him fuck me hard and rough. Then I cuddle with my face buried into him so he can’t see the lies.

He trusts me.

It’s ironic. Jack is working so hard to gain my trust, he’s not thinking about whether he should trust me.

But today, the constant dread will finally be lifted, thank fuck.

Jack visited Donnie Wicks in prison this afternoon. He messaged to say he has news. Donnie revealed the truth.

It’s Friday night and we are back in Jack’s bar, Maggie’s. Impromptu drinks put on by Lexington as a thanks for all our hard work, even if we did mess up the planning permission application.

My Bradshaw Brown colleagues around me are ecstatic. My jaw aches from the fake smile stuck on my face.

Max and Olivia are both here, dancing around each other coyly even though it’s the worst kept secret in Bradshaw Brown.

I couldn’t give a shit.

It’s been nearly two weeks since I discovered the evidence buried in my dad’s moving boxes. The innocent signet ring burning a hole in my conscience.

Thirteen days and nights of pretending that everything’s fine.

When my boyfriend walks in, his presence instantly takes over Maggie’s.

My belly flutters, as does the belly of every other woman in the bar, judging by the looks.

Sometimes I forget who he is—a guy with an unlimited supply of money, power and women.

I forget because Jack lets me forget.

He flashes his signature panty-dropping grin at everyone in his path but there’s an edge to it tonight and only I know why.

I’m buried in the Bradshaw & Brown crowd so he can’t see me at first. He scans distractedly as people try to get his attention.

I down the Tequila shot that Darren has shoved in my face just as Jack spots me.

“Jack.” Max slaps him on the back as the Bradshaw team parts to let him through.

He nods at Max but, still metres away, he’s looking only at me. His dark eyes stay locked on mine, their heat threatening to burn every inch of my skin.

Before Jack, I’ve never had a man look at me like this.

Then he’s in front of me, Nisha and Darren.

“Hi,” he says. “Can I talk to you.” It’s not a question.

Last night I couldn’t talk to him. I was too anxious.

He leans over and lowers his voice. “Don’t make me take you by the hand, Bonnie. You know I don’t care who knows about us.”

Nisha drags Darren away by the arm. Thankfully Darren is too drunk to pick up on the tension between our most important client and me.

I follow Jack to the bar as he ignores others’ attempts to talk to him.

“At first I thought you were pregnant and too scared to tell me.” His chest rises with a deep breath. “But the Tequila clearly knocks that theory out of the water.”

“What? I’m not,” I say quickly.

“For the record, I would be happy if you were carrying my baby. I don’t give a shit if it’s only been a few weeks.”

My eyes bulge. “If I am pregnant, I wouldn’t know yet.” I laugh shakily. “That’s not how it works.”

He’s not laughing. “Now I’m thinking it’s cold feet. You don’t want to jump into another relationship.” His jaw clenches. “Or worse. You don’t want to jump into another relationship with me.”

“I do, Jack,” I choke out. “I really do. These past few weeks have been amazing.”

The creases along his forehead deepen. “So, what’s wrong, Bonnie? I’m trying to work out what’s going on with you and it’s killing me.”

“I’m fine. I’m feeling a little under the weather this week, that’s all.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re off. The only time you’re out of your head is when I’m banging you senseless. Answer me honestly, do you want to be with me?” Vulnerability flits over his hard, beautiful, features, making him seem younger than his thirty-eight years.

“Yes,” I whisper. “So badly.”

“Because I want to be with you, you know that, right? I want to be the boyfriend that you deserve.”

My heart breaks.

I nod, fighting the tears welling in my eyes. You wouldn’t if you knew what I’m keeping from you.

“You can’t hide what’s wrong, Bonnie. I’ll find out.” The frown on his face dissolves. “Even Lucy noticed something was up when you were over.”

I bristle. That damn dog sticks her nose into everything.

“Please, just leave it,” I beg him. “Not here. Anyway…what did Wicks say?” I try to rein in the panic in my voice. “You never messaged me back.”

“Sorry, darlin’, I had to go straight to the police station.”

My eyes widen. This is the miracle that I need. “Wicks confessed?”

He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “No. He gave me the fucking shocker of a lifetime.” He smiles bitterly. “Turns out Wicks didn’t do it. It was a guy called Gleeson. Stanley Gleeson.”

I blink. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us. Wicks wanted to get a few things off his chest before he snuffed it. He didn’t do it. This guy Gleeson stabbed my old man in a fucking robbery. He stabbed him for bloody cash.”

“And you believe him?”

He nods. “Yeah, actually I do.”

I pause, trying to understand what this means. For the first time since I found the signet ring, the ball in my stomach unwinds slightly.

Dad’s safe? Wicks won’t come after him because he wasn’t even involved. We can hand over the ring to Jack.

“Why did he kill him?” I ask.

“We’ll never know the full story. Gleeson died a few months back. I got his record checked out. He was just a small-time thief. Dad must have fought back or ripped the balaclava off him or something. It sounds like the cunt just panicked in the heat of the moment.” I can hear the pain in his voice. I wish I could take it away.

I’ve never heard of this guy Stanley Gleeson. “At least you have closure now, right?”

“Not yet.” He grimaces. “Wicks said there were others involved.”

“Others?” I whisper.

“I’ve got a private detective looking into all Gleeson’s contacts during that time. It’s only a matter of time before I find them.”

“What did they take?”

“Wallet. Cash. Jewellery. Whatever he had on him.” His tongue drags through his lips. “Which was a lot for a guy in that area.”

“Maybe you should leave it, Jack,” I say in a shaky voice. “This can’t be good for you. You know what happened. The guy who did it is dead.”

“You’ve never had anyone close to you die, have you sweetheart? I don’t think I can explain . . .” He shakes his head. “I can’t leave it.”

“But you’ve got the guy who did it,” I squeak.

“Let’s just say I hope the others are dead. Because they’re going to wish they were when I’m finished with them.”

My mouth is too dry to speak.

I look at the anger etched in my beautiful boyfriend’s face and start to feel very, very uneasy.

***

Ten missed calls from Jack. If I’m trying to not arouse suspicion, I’m royally fucking it up. Jack will wonder why I left the bar without telling him, go to my flat and find I’m not there.

Instead, it’s eleven on a Friday night, and I’m banging on Dad’s door after the most claustrophobic underground ride of my life. Not only because it’s sweltering heat and there’s no ventilation, but because my nerves are so bad, I nearly puked every time the train lurched forward.

Dad will be on his own because that’s his life. No one visits except me and Uncle Pat. A thought that I try to push to the back of my mind because knowing you are the sole child of a lonely parent is daunting.

I see the silhouette of his frame move towards the front door and my heart pounds so hard I think I’m having an anxiety attack. I can still run away because I know after he opens that door something will change.

These past few weeks, I’ve been so fixated on Wicks confessing that there was no room for alternative scenarios.

Because that’s why Dad was afraid of me telling Jack, right?

On the Central line, I told myself it was going to be okay. I concocted a plan. I would tell Dad I’m dropping in on him on my way home and casually bring the conversation around to what Wicks revealed to Jack. We would discuss it rationally, work through it together. Dad wasn’t involved. He just happened to do something stupid after the event.

Jack would come around eventually. He would understand.

Everything would be out in the open instead of buried deep inside me, gnawing away at my stomach.

My rehearsed speech goes out the window the moment Dad opens the door.

“Wicks didn’t kill Jack’s dad,” I blurt out.

Silence.

Fear looks back at me.

He recovers quickly but I see it.

The dread resting in my stomach bubbles to the surface.

“Not this again, love.” Love is said with no love. His mouth twists into an angry line.

“Wicks admitted it was a guy named Stanley Gleeson,” explodes out of me.

He eyes me guardedly. “Where did you hear this rubbish?”

“Jack hired a private detective.”

“Jack Knight? How the hell do you know that?”

“I’m dating him. He’s my boyfriend.”

His eyes widen. Now his face is as white as someone who has been dead for a few days.

“Tell me the truth, Dad.” I’m trying hard to keep my voice steady but I’m shaking. “Because from where I’m standing, I’m jumping to a lot of scary conclusions.”

I don’t know how long we stare at each other. It feels like a lifetime.

The silence is unbearable.

“Get in the bloody house,” he growls through clenched teeth. “The neighbours will hear.”

My pulse flatlines. I already have my answer.

I step into the kitchen.

“Sit down.”

“No,” I say, unable to hide the tremble in my voice. “You were there.”

He reaches for the opened bottle of whiskey beside the sink. The smell of it makes the single Tequila I had rise in my throat. I force it back.

I gaze around the open-plan kitchen and living room trying to calm myself down. Everything is in boxes. The only things that remain are the pictures of me on my graduation day on the wall.

He’s ready to move into a nicer flat and start a new life.

When he finally speaks his voice is so quiet, I strain to hear. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He stares into the glass as he pours as if it holds all the answers.

I take a seat at the table because my legs are too weak to stand. I decide if I transfix on a spot of chipped wood on the corner of the table I’ll be okay.

“I was struggling to get back on my feet,” he continues quietly. “I was days away from losing the house. I remortgaged it to pay for . . .”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

To pay for my university fees.

“It doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t excuse anything.” He swirls the glass in his hand and takes a large sip. It goes down without a hint that it’s hard liquor. Still staring at the glass, he says, “We’d done it once before. Back then it wasn’t this cashless society we have today. It happened so quickly, and the guy just handed over his wallet. Gleeson took the lead. All I had to do was stick on a balaclava and stand there beside Gleeson. It was a simple case of two against one. We hardly threatened the guy. He didn’t even seem that bothered.”

I sit very still watching his nostrils flare in and out as he takes deep breaths.

He drains the last of his glass. “I wasn’t proud of it, but I figured we were choosing guys that had enough cash that it wouldn’t matter to them. Guys around the East End that liked to show how well they were doing by draping themselves in gold and fucking expensive watches.”

“Like rich dentists,” I say faintly.

I remember that night. I was still living at home as I hadn’t started university. Phil didn’t even tell the police.

Maybe if he had, they would have caught Jack’s father’s killers.

Killers.

My chest tightens. Did I think that as plural?

Is that what I believe?

For the first time he looks me in the eye and when he speaks, this time his voice is firm. Confident. “He took something much worse from me, Bonnie. You. Your mother.”

My gaze connects with the happy girl graduating on the wall. She had no clue what was happening around her. All she cared about was parties, getting laid and making sure she got enough points to graduate with honours.

Ignorance really is bliss.

“You intentionally chose Phil,” I say flatly.

“Do you blame me?”

I don’t know. I always had a sneaking suspicion Mum met Phil before she split from Dad.  Phil earned more money in a month than Dad did in a year.

If Olivia got robbed, would I be happy?

I answer him with another question. “Did Phil know it was you?”

“I think so. Maybe that’s why he gave everything up without a fuss.” He pours himself another measure. It smells cheap and foul, not like the stuff Jack drinks. “He had everything he wanted.”

I watch him sink most of the glass in one swallow.

“So, the second time, everything seemed easier. Everyone knew Knight sauntered around the pub flashing his son’s cash. It meant nothing to him.” He pauses. “Gleeson and I hadn’t planned it that night, but Knight had a skinful in the White Horse and was firing twenties down as tips as if they were pennies.”

I feel something rise in my chest. The dread again.

I can tell he wants to tell me everything, but I take it back. I don’t want to know. I want him to stop talking.

“We felt like he was rubbing it in our faces.”

He sighs. It’s a horrible sound that I feel right in my gut. A low wheezy noise too big for his chest.

“All we wanted was the damn wallet and jewellery. He should have handed it over. Lord knows there was plenty more where it came from. But Knight thought he was invincible.” His shoulders slump. “Knight goaded him. Gleeson. Before I knew what was happening Gleeson had stabbed him.”

“No, No, No,” I hear myself saying. I repeat what Dad’s telling me in my head, trying to rearrange his words so that they have a different meaning.

I stare at his frightened eyes and protruding bones creating unhealthy angles. Small blood vessels are broken across his face.

Dad was an attractive man in his day, back when I was Daddy’s girl, helping my dad at the Saturday market. I thought that he was the smartest, most courageous man on earth.

Now I don’t know this man.

I can barely breathe.

All I can do is stare at the stranger in front of me.

“You lied to me.” I swallow. “You made me believe that you were scared of Wicks.”

“I had to, love,” he pleads. “Gleeson might not have the same leverage as Wicks, but I wasn’t going to go up against him. I would have had a lit newspaper through my letterbox.”

You’re not courageous. You never were. You’re a coward.

How have I not realised how cold the flat is until now? I shiver and rub my arms vigorously. What I wouldn’t do to be in a steaming, excruciatingly hot bath.

“Does Mum know?” I ask, my teeth chattering. Please God, don’t say she’s in on this.

“Of course she doesn’t.”

I nod. It’s the only redeemable moment of the night.

“You need to go to the police.” I try for a calm and authoritative tone as if I’m telling him he needs to go to the dentist more than once every five years. It’s way off the mark. I’m breathy and frantic. “Jack will find out.”

He looks at me as if I’ve struck him across the face. “Do you want to see your old man go to jail for an accident that happened a long time ago? Is that it? Because the Knights won’t go easy on me. Wicks isn’t the only one with coppers on his payroll.”

Mugging someone is not an accident.

He grips the glass. “Believe me, I’ve already paid in guilt. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what happened.”

He’s telling the truth. I hear it in his voice.

“I’ll get arrested for assisting an offender, Bonnie. Maybe worse. Is that what you want?”

Tears form in my eyes.

“They’ll let you off easy if you give yourself up,” I say, blinking them back. “You were just a witness. You won’t get prison time. You can say you were scared and that’s why you didn’t come forward before.”

I don’t know if I’m trying to convince Dad or me.

He was there.

He saw it happen.

He let it happen.

The wave of dread rises like a tsunami in my stomach.

Tonight was supposed to be different. I was going to sleep for the first time in two weeks. All the secrets were going to be out in the open and Jack and I would move forward.

Now I’m trying to figure out if I’m a murderer’s daughter.

Dad turns his back to me and stands at the sink. For a second I think he’s ignoring me.  Then I see his shoulders silently shake. I’ve only seen Dad cry twice before.

Everything is fucked.

No matter what happens, I’ve lost Jack.