Red Knight: (Red Knight #1)

by L. C White

  “What do you want to drink Liz?”

  Nathan knows I don’t do wine in these places. Not only because it tastes like bitter vinegar, but I’ll be passing-out within two hours.

  I look behind the bar. “Just get me a beer.”

  He orders our drinks while I discreetly scour the area for Mr Knight. Maybe he’s not here, and us being allowed in before others, is just some gimmick for opening night.

  Nathan turns to me empty handed. “Let’s go sit… apparently this is the executive area, and they bring it to us.”

  Several suits bound through the door, and I have to weave my steps to avoid a collision. Clearly uptown guys, who have just finished work at the stock exchange or something.

  We find a booth. It’s tastefully decorated. Cream and gold damask seating, with contemporary glass panels in the walls, surrounding a black marble table with a chrome rimmed edge.

  “Lighten up will you.” Nathan nudges me as we sit. “You’re making me depressed.”

  He has no idea. I’m so nervous. I’m expecting Mr Knight to put in an appearance, and I have to prepare myself for it.

  My eyes expand. Our waitress for the evening is none other than slutty Sara. She’s standing right there in her skirt and heels, holding our tray of drinks.

  “Well fancy seeing you here,” Nathan says, like his night has been made.

  “Your drinks.” She bends over the table. Her attitude is- Here, have a good long look at my round rump Nathan.

  I’m in one of those awful awkward moments in which you become obscure. I am an irrelevant blip stuck in-between two lusting players. I’m not going to let him do this to me again. If he expects me to play gooseberry all night, he’s got another thing coming.

  “Thanks Sara,” I snap. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  Nathan shifts back in his seat, drawing his eyes back into his head. He knows I’m pissed-off.

  “Yes, thanks Sara,” he smiles warily.

  She takes a bottle of wine from the tray, reverting back to her role of waitress from lap dancer. “Compliments of Mr Knight.” She places two wine glasses next to the bottle and trots away.

  I glance to the bar and there he is, appealing to me in stealthy ways. He’s wearing black pressed trousers that dress his hips and thighs magnificently. His blue shirt is open at the top, and the sleeves rolled halfway up his shapely forearms. His hair. Oh his hair. I’ve never in my whole life had an urge like it. I want to course my fingers through it, down his neck, and over his face. This is turning into a disastrous night. I breathe out and turn my attention to the bottle. I need something to cool me down.

  “Liz… let me.”

  Nathan sees me getting frustrated because I can’t open the stupid bottle. He pops out the cork with ease and pours me a glass. It’s red. I don’t like red.

  “Here, I’ll go ask them to change it.” Nathan stands up with the bottle.

  I see Mr Knight watching. “No!” I take it from him. “It’s free, don’t want to be picky… besides I’ll give it a go. Alcohol’s alcohol.”

  I take a swig and sigh out. I’m instantly taken back to that first oppressive conversation with Mr Knight. This is his personal stash. Vintage and very expensive. While taking another sip, I stare over my glass at his pert backside as he leans over the bar.

  “Like it then?” Nathan asks.

  “It’s perfect,” I say, secretly referring to my view.

  “Hey, you okay… you seem a bit… I don’t know, in a different place?” he asks, touching my knee.

  He really shouldn’t have his hand on there, he’s distracting me. Perhaps I need distraction. I consume what’s left in my glass.

  “I’m fine,” I squeak, pouring another.

  ***

  I’ve devoured the whole bottle to myself, and it’s helping me a great deal. Nathan has hit the vodka and has been getting a tad rowdy. He’s been trying to get me up dancing for the last hour. But this is the classy area, no one dances here. Yet.

  My head’s a little woozy; the good kind of woozy. I’m all relaxed and giggly. Nathan is up there right now in front of me, doing the cha-cha slide. The song’s dreadful, but his moves are fantastic and very entertaining.

  “Liz.” Nathan’s eyes follow slutty Sara as she goes by. I scowl at him. “Okay,” he laughs. “I’m all yours,” he yells. “Dance with me.” He hiccups.

  Mr Knight walks by and my eyes tail him. “In a bit… Just going to the bathroom.”

  You can do this Liz. Go thank him for the wine. Just don’t be all soppy eyed about it. Sophistication is key.

  I squeeze through a crowd of people blocking my way. The ladies bathroom is to my left, but Mr Knight is moving to the right. I’m at a defining crossroads and pause. Shit Liz, just move. I’m sure you can string a thank you together.

  I call after him, but he doesn’t hear. In my head I’m very ready and able. I can flirt, mentally seduce. God. I have plenty of subconscious ideas on how to talk to this man. All of them require a good amount of alcohol to pull off.

  I follow him to a booth where he chats to two half-naked women. I don’t like it. How dare they touch his hand in that whorish way. There’s still time, just turn back, and walk away. But no, for some stupid unfathomable reason, maybe the wine, I’m now standing next to him. He glares, his eyes thin, like I’ve just committed the crime of interruption.

  He draws a breath, pursing his slick red lips. “Miss Lovell… what can I do for you?”

  I don’t get it. Why’s he being all cold and business with me? He gave me his personal number. He invited Nathan and me up here. And he gave me a bottle of wine from his personal collection. I scrunch my fingers into my hand tightly, feeling foolish. It’s me. I’ve clearly got this so very wrong.

  “I wanted to thank you for the wine.” This is terrible; he doesn’t look interested at all.

  “It’s fine Miss Lovell.” He rudely turns back to the women. “Ladies, have a wonderful evening.”

  So, I must have done something to insult him at the coffee shop, or now. Maybe it’s because I didn’t call. Perhaps he knows I’ve been cyber-stalking him. Or he just likes to mess with my head. If anything, he’s the one who has been giving out mixed signals.

  I stiffen on the spot. He looks at me with a confused movement flashing within his pupils.

  “Miss Lovell, if you’ll excuse me.” He leaves me, humiliated.

  Well, that went well.

  I’m so furious. I resent myself for feeling this way about a man who clearly has sociopathic tendencies. I seem to amuse him. Well not anymore, because I’m getting the hell out of here.

  I push my way through to the bar, and order a large glass of wine. Nathan tugs my arm as I pour the whole glass down my neck. This hellish day needs to be shaken off. I pull Nathan to the doors. The lower level is more suited to my needs right now.

  ***

  I dance with Nathan. We take over the floor like old times. He shall have all my attention for the rest of the night. So screw you Mr Knight.

  “Do you know Nath… I’m havin the bestest time.”

  “Liz, you’re smashed.”

  “Kiss meee… sorry… oops I got to go to… to the bathroom.”

  I need this wall. This nice wall will take me to my destination. Nearly there Liz, you can stick your head under the cold faucet, and wake yourself up.

  I’m forced to stop. It’s a hand around my bicep. I’m not going to have anybody grabbing me tonight. I twist in a blurry rage, and oops, land right into someone’s chest. It’s blue, and it smells delightful. I inhale and stay for a while. Oh shit! It’s blue. Black belt and trousers. I jolt back, and there he is. All two of him, weaving in and out of each other.

  “Mr-Mr-Mr Knight.”

  “You need to sit down before you fall down Elizabeth….You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  Did he just call you a fool Liz? I scowl at him. It is my: don’t push it expression. A warning that I may Hulk out any se
cond.

  I point on his firm fine chest, hard. “I is no fool… you see that man I’m with… well he’s a real man… none of this cloak and dagger crap you like to pull. Real he is!”

  “That man right there.” He points.

  I follow his hazy finger before I wipe the smug look off his beautiful chops. I squint and sway in fury. I told him in my sober state. We agreed tonight was for us only. I’ve been blown off for slutty Sara again. She’s there, shimmying her fat ass around him.

  I slam my back against the wall and slide to the floor. I’m a hopelessly messed up drunk, and I’m playing it all out for Mr Knight to see. I peer up. He’s standing, holding his blurry hand out to me. His eyes, all four of them, are offended I’d do such a thing as to insult him. But he’s still being polite about it.

  My vision spirals downhill fast, as if I’m on a speeding merry-go-round. Focus Liz, you know the trick. Simply use one eye, and you should be able to see.

  “You can leave me now. I really… really would like you to leave me.” I bang my head into my knees.

  “Get up Elizabeth!”

  He’s ever so bossy. I laugh, a tittering laugh at his expense. I like laughing at him. I guess it’s better than hitting him.

  “What’s so funny to you, because from where I’m standing, I’m not the one who looks ridiculous here?” he grumbles as I chuckle uncontrollably. “Elizabeth!”

  “Okidoki, keep your pert pants on Mr Rich… you have very nice eyes.” This ought to work Liz. He won’t be able to resist a bite of the lip. “You can kiss me.” I hiccup, and very nearly vomit.

  I rest my head on my knees again. I hear fabric brushing down the wall. I turn to my side to see the most influential man in the city right now beside me, with his shiny Armani shoes crossed. Mr Rich is sitting outside the ladies bathroom, on the floor of a nightclub, bearing nothing but concern for little drunken me.

  He’s so close to me, hip to hip. Liz please sober up, you need to remember everything about this.

  “Sorry,” I cringe. “I’m a complete mess.”

  He slopes his head to see me. I’m not blushing, or nervous. I really love his eyes; I’m losing myself in them. He has power over me.

  “You feel the need to self-destruct. I think everyone has the right to the odd lapse in sanity.” His observation on me intensifies. “Next time you should steer clear of the alcohol.”

  I want to kiss him, I really do. To lean across and get what I need. But in this state, he’ll probably just think me pathetic. I am very stupid tonight. And irresponsibly randy. Drunken sex is not a great idea.

  “Well… I don’t cope well with stress,” I utter.

  Yes, I’m stressed drunk because of you Mr Knight. The fact that you’ve scrambled my brain. Not to mention I’m now jobless, penniless, and desperately trying not to puke on you.

  “If I have in any way hurt your feelings, I apologise Elizabeth.” Holy hell. Did he just read my mind? “When I have a desire for something, I will always ruin it… I should refrain myself.”

  Please do not spoil this by spewing. Hold it in. He’s giving me something here. Did he actually admit he desires me?

  I hiccup. “Ruin what exactly?”

  He turns to me, his eyes motionless. “My reputation.”

  Oh, okay, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “Right, I’m going to…”

  I shuffle up the wall. The screeching in my head deafens me. I need to… to lay down.

  Chapter 5: Penthouse

  Whoa… Jeez, I can’t move my head. Bang. Boom. Whoosh. There’s a freaking jackhammer trying to break out of my skull. I lick my dry cracked lips. My mouth feels like it’s full of sand and hasn’t seen moisture for years. I moan loud, unable to open my heavy eyelids. Every movement causes a bolt like lightning to strike my temples. With a huff I aim to roll over, but fail miserably. Slowly, I lift my hand and place it over my face. It’s now or never Liz. There’s no sympathy for self-inflicted hangovers.

  Gradually, I prize one lid open. Where the hell? I spring up with a shooting spasm zipping over the crown of my head. I adjust focus, frowning with every blink. I’m in a spacious room with light grey walls, and glossy black furnishings. Far to my left is a great wall of blackout glass, one end to the other. The sheets I’m lying on are soft white Egyptian cotton, with sumptuously plump pillows. Liz, what the hell did you do?

  I shuffle to the edge of the firm mattress. Next to me, on a black bedside table, is a glass of water and a sachet of Alka-Seltzer, beneath an ornate cream lamp. I panic. My heart is in my throat right now, wondering what drunken mistake I made. I’m still dressed, tights intact, no ladders or tears, minus my boots. So that’s kind of a good sign I tell myself.

  My eyes search the room for my handbag. I should call Cate. Inform her I’m alive and okay. That is apart from not having the foggiest how I got here, or where I am.

  Oh no. Flashback. Me and one suave Mr Knight. Holy crap Liz. You asked him to kiss you. I shudder and reminisce. I’m such a grade-A idiot.

  “Bag… where’s my damn bag?” I supress a shamefaced tear.

  I stand on the black marble floor. The humming in my head grows more pronounce as I straighten up.

  “Hell,” I utter, creeping around the daunting room.

  I crouch to look under the bed, moaning through the pain. It’s so clean. Not a speck of dust. So my host, which I’ve now gathered is Mr Knight, is a clean-freak.

  I plod stealth like across the cool marble. I need my phone. I don’t want to leave this room without the ability to call for help if I need to.

  I spot my jacket. It’s hung over a large chest at the foot of the bed. For a moment I stare at the bizarre box. It doesn’t belong in this room. It’s old, real old, with worn Celtic carvings. It belongs in some great hall or castle somewhere. I’ll just have a sneaky peek, no harm in that. I pull the lid, but it’s locked.

  Stop being nosy Liz; you need to get out of this place. If Knight sees you in this state, you’re never going to live it down.

  There are two doors in the room. One several feet from the queen size black panel bed, and one on the wall opposite. I pick the one closest, near the bed. I wrap my hand around the gold knob and twist. It opens into another vast room, slightly smaller than the bedroom. Again an all marble floor, with wall-to-wall darkened windows looking out over the city. Dead set in the centre of the room, is a deep luxurious porcelain roll-top bathtub. And against a mirrored wall, two floating sinks with waterfall faucets.

  Wow. This place is kind of astounding. But never mind how amazing it is, how do I actually get out of here?

  I quietly skulk back into the bedroom, and try door number two. Now, I’m standing in a walk-in emerald green wet-room, with a gold oval showerhead protruding from the wall before me.

  I move back to the bed, lost and confused. There’s a steel modern fire built into the wall, with white pebbles, and blue tinted flames. I stare as it flickers, willing my brain to work. Come on Liz, you must remember. I blow out and chatter my teeth, developing unease. A room with no way out. Huge as it is, it’s making me claustrophobic.

  There’s a knock, and it doesn’t come from any of the doors. I focus on the direction of the sound. It came from a wall panel. A section clicks and opens. I take a step back, clutching my jacket tight into my body.

  “Miss Lovell.”

  Shit. Is there anywhere I can go where I will not bump into slutty Sara? Is she like his slave or something?

  “Will you follow me?” She sidesteps through the secret door.

  This is beyond weird. Hidden doors, reappearing Sara, and the fact I’ve been brought here by Mr Knight, and cannot remember a thing. I’m freaking scared, but also intrigued.

  A sickly hunger and thirst makes me dizzy. My stomach lining is on fire, and I know I must look like I’ve just crawled through the depths of hell. I need water, and fast. I grab the glass from the bedside table. First I sniff it. Water doesn’t have a smell, and this doesn’t. I drink. Of
course my senses finally come into play, and I don’t add the remedy. It could be a disguised date-rape drug or something.

  Go Liz. Put down your foot for once. Who cares what you look like? Being kidnapped is a criminal offense. I run my fingers through my grubby hair, as I stagger through the panel, apprehensively.

  I watch my feet move across floor. I lift my head and my eyes fall onto an enormous open-plan living area. To my left, there’s a kitchen with green granite worktops, white handless cupboards, and a circular island in the centre. Everything about it screams unused. It’s pristine. No kettle, no toaster, or coffeemaker in sight. To my right, there’s a large oval glass dining table that’s surrounded by twelve cream leather high-back chairs.

  This is crazy. It’s like I’m appearing in an episode of Cribs here. It’s lavish and fine, somewhere I don’t belong.

  I duck my head to look further into the apartment. There’s a lounge area, with a massive grey u-shaped sofa, situated around a modern white central fire and extractor. I notice only one picture hung on the walls. It’s a white canvass with a smear of scarlet across it. It’s one of those abstract artworks, which equals to me, ridiculously expensive and nonsensical. I’m more an oil painting kind of girl myself. Other than that, I see no personal touches in the place at all.

  I’m intimidated. This is way too opulent for the likes of me. I remain still. Should I move, look for a way out before Mr Knight swaggers around that corner, looking all hot, turning me to slush?

  I spin back to the bedroom, head tenderising, and heart skipping beats. Now where’s the front door? That could be it next to the bedroom. But I can’t go yet. I still haven’t found my phone.

  Sara strolls by the central fire. Is he behind her? I fluster with my eyes on my fidgeting hands. She’s wearing a pinstripe navy skirt, with a fitted jacket over a black ruffle shirt. Her blonde hair is pulled back tight into a neat bun, and her white six inch heels clop closer to me. I look like I’ve just rose from the morgue, and feel beyond stupid standing here.