by Eliza Ellis
“We did!”
“You didn’t! Don’t ever think that. Joqi wanted to protect you and your father. It was his honor to do so.”
Zuri knew that was true, but she felt guilty for letting Joqi join the resistance. If he hadn’t, he would be alive and with his family. It was difficult not to get attached to their supporters, and even more impossible when they died fighting for the cause. Although she understood the ultimate sacrifice often came with change of this magnitude, it always struck her as surreal. War is not a game, Zuri. Blood is often shed. And often, more than we ever dreamed we’d accept.
Her father’s words had never been more true.
“She is most appreciative of the money Daemon gave her. It’ll put her children through school and support them for a long time to come.”
Zuri’s anger replaced her guilt. Of course his wife would see Daemon as the hero and her as the villain. She and her father killed their provider, but Daemon made up for it. A future free Bendola meant little next to money in their account today.
“Zuri?”
“I’m here,” she said, her teeth grinding. Didn’t his wife know how sorry she was? How much she had loved Joqi?
“Don’t be mad. I hear it in your voice. She is grieving and needs someone to blame. After her grief, she will see her error.”
Who knew how long that would be? Her grief could last for years.
A few long minutes later, David said he had to go, but the resistance had secured another contact in the military and everything—all things considered—was going well. Then the line went dead. A tear slipped down Zuri’s cheek as she set the phone back on the receiver. She was pleased that the resistance hadn’t been hindered much by her father’s death. However, grief lingered over what David had said about Joqi’s wife. What could she do from a gorgeous home in Ashburn, Virginia?
She turned at the sound of a knock. Daemon leaned against the doorframe. He straightened, his face showing concern.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He swiftly crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her. Zuri didn’t have any fight left in her to shove him away. Her heart was breaking for Joqi, his family, her people…
Daemon’s heavy arm rested gently around her shoulders, and he pulled her into his firm side. He smelled like fresh pine, his body warm and inviting—like his mother’s room. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Joqi’s wife… She curses me for what happened to him.” She choked on a sob and buried her face into his shoulder.
“Shh…” He smoothed her hair. “Don’t worry about her. She’s grieving. Of course she’s angry.”
“She’s not mad at you,” she countered in a muffled voice. She felt the rumblings of laughter in his hard chest.
“Of course not. Money never ticks anyone off. It’s just a band-aid, Princess. She wants her husband more. She’d give it all back if she could have him for a minute more, trust me.”
She knew he was right, but it didn’t hurt any less. Guilt from leaving him to die in the street still plagued her. How could she grieve and handle his wife’s fury? Would Joqi ever forgive her for how she had left him?
Daemon’s calloused hand curved around her shoulder and down her arm. His thumb rubbed the top of her hand. “I never come into this room,” Daemon said softly. “Reminds me too much of Mom. I can still smell her perfume.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I’d give everything up—the money, the cars, the yacht, the planes—all of it to have her back. I’d pay any price.”
Zuri leaned back, wanting to see his eyes. She liked the way he spoke about his mother. She felt the same about hers. His eyes held a deep sadness that matched the small smile he offered, and she believed him. “I miss my mom, too,” she whispered. “If she were here now…” She longed for the comfort of her mother’s arms, her tight hold and gentle words of wisdom whenever Zuri skinned her knee, or failed a test.
The way Daemon’s hard arms cradled her, the gentle hold of hand, was a more than satisfactory second choice.
He frowned. “I heard she had died. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you, too.”
The side of his mouth edged up. “Aw, Princess, you do care about me. I’m touched.”
She slapped his chest. He swiftly caught her hand and held it against him. The ripple of his laugh tickled her palm. She made no move to leave the comfort of his warm embrace. His eyes turned intense, his gaze steady, demanding her attention.
He angled his head, and his warm lips were on hers. They moved tenderly, caressing and kissing away her salty tears. Zuri’s other hand slid up the ripples and sinews of his muscular back. His strength scared away the butterflies in her stomach, and desire blossomed.
“Zuri…” Daemon whispered her name, kissing her closed eyes. His mouth settled back on hers and lingered a moment.
The phone ring sounded like a jet engine blast, and they tore apart. Daemon cursed and slammed his cell to his ear. “What?” he barked. He stood quickly and exited the room.
Her rapid and ragged breathing filled her ears, condemning her actions. He was her bodyguard, not her lover. She couldn’t use him to run from her grief. One day soon, he would be out of her life, and then what?
That can’t happen again…
Chapter 7
Daemon didn’t need any of this. Not his desire for Zuri pushing through the surface of his calculated and carefully manufactured self-control—
And definitely not his father.
Daemon raced down the stairs and then halted when he came to the main level. A guy pointed to the closed door of Daemon’s office. Daemon nodded and then inhaled. He went the opposite direction toward the kitchen.
Dinner would obviously have to wait with his father demanding an audience. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have cookies. Daemon grabbed a handful of warm chocolate chip cookies and shoved two in his mouth. His guys snickered as he passed. They understood cookies were fuel, and he’d need it to do battle with the elder Knight.
Daemon opened the door of his office. “Dad,” he said around his cookies. He closed the door and walked confidently to his desk chair. His father had a habit of occupying it whenever he waited for his son. Daemon always suspected he did so both out of a lack of respect for his son and to continue the established hierarchy of dominance. Daemon would never ascend.
Except, that’s not what Arthur Knight had been demanding lately.
Arthur sat in an armchair across the room, his legs crossed, elbows propped up, and fingers interlaced. “Son. Took you long enough. I was told you landed hours ago.”
“How many times have I asked you to let me know when you’re coming, Dad?”
Arthur chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You like to see me off-balanced,” Daemon accused.
Arthur lifted a heavy salt-and-pepper brow. “Are you off-balanced?”
Daemon settled in his seat and stared his father down. “No.”
“Good, because the next leader of Knight Industries needs to be level-headed, confident, and on firm footing.”
Daemon smirked. He imagined Arthur Knight thought his son was flat-footed. “I agree,” Daemon said simply.
“So, when are you going to take the reins?”
“You planning on retiring so soon?” Daemon asked dryly. His father was not one to give up power. It came as a shock that a healthy man in his fifties would be so eager to give it all up and languish away on a golf course for the next thirty-odd years. Daemon had expected another ten more years of freedom running his own company before his father even hinted at wanting him to take control.
“Yes.” His voice dropped like an ordinance between them.
Daemon didn’t believe him. “Let me guess. New wife wants you to cut back?”
Arthur laughed. “She doesn’t tell me what to do.”
Now that Daemon believed. Arthur Knight was on his sixth wife—fifth since Daemon’s mother had died about ten years earlier. Daemon looked casually at his wat
ch. If he knew his father, he would’ve sent divorce papers by certified mail to the girl already.
The girl being about the same age as Daemon—under thirty-five.
“Then what, Dad? As you can see, I’m in the middle of an assignment—”
“When are you going to give this up? You shouldn’t be personally handling cases. You could lose your life.”
“The person risk is what sets my service apart from all the others.”
Arthur had a devilish smirk on his face, and Daemon tensed. “I heard you’re protecting some revolutionary’s daughter. I’ve seen her on television. Very beautiful. I hope you’re offering her all of your services.”
Daemon cracked his jaw. His father had changed in the last ten years. All of the lectures on how to be a man—an honorable one—had been archived, and new material had been rolled out and presented. Asking a woman out to dinner? Nope. Just ask her to go for drinks and then get her in bed. Monogamy? Outdated. Having multiple women at the ready meant never having to wonder who to spend the night with. Everything was casual with Arthur Knight. The death of Daemon’s mother had killed the fairy tale, and Arthur now luxuriated in reality.
A reality Daemon didn’t respect.
Daemon chose his words carefully. “I’m doing everything I can to protect her from harm.” And not provide her with additional services, although he’d just finished thoroughly kissing her.
Arthur harrumphed. “Sounds dull. Has she ever stepped into a house this big? She’ll be grateful, I’m sure.” He winked.
Daemon cocked his head to one side. “What kind of a business do you think I run? A high-end prostitution service where I’m both the pimp and escort? You think I can’t get women any other way than to flaunt my wealth?”
Arthur raised both brows. “Are you getting women? Every time I call you, you’re too busy flying to some war-torn country, dodging maritime police in your speedboat, or off the grid in the Middle East. When do you have time to cater to necessities?”
Daemon looked his father dead in his eyes. “I think you cater too much to your necessities, and it’s clouded your judgment.”
Arthur’s eyes darkened. “If you mean choosing you as my successor, maybe. But I’m not going to let a company built by my father and his father and his father before him be handed over to someone not even blood-related one generation after me. I won’t be known as the Knight who lost this company.”
Daemon rolled his eyes. “You won’t be. No one is going to talk about your legacy until after you’re dead. Why worry about it now?”
His father blinked a few times and shifted in his chair. “I’m not going out like that. I want to live to hear my legacy. I want to hear if I’ve made a mistake or not by letting you take over.”
Daemon had mulled over being CEO of Knight Industries a lot—more than he would admit to his father. He wouldn’t want to give his old man any hope in case he decided against ascending the throne. There were a lot of moving pieces to the Knight empire. Nothing Daemon couldn’t handle, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to rule a whole kingdom. Would he have time to live his life? Pursue his interests? Not unless he abdicated.
Running his protection company, as well as the intelligence arm of Knight Industries, had been a dream for him. Leaving the military didn’t mean he couldn’t still make a difference in the world and fight terrorism. He was able to provide a lot of jobs for veterans of both the military and law enforcement and truly make an impact without a bunch of bureaucratic red tape.
Providing personalized protection allowed him to keep the unique and elite skills he’d acquired by being both a Ranger and Special Forces sharp. His background gave him instant credibility, and he’d use it as long as it would net him a job.
“If and when I decide to take over, Father, you’ll be the first to know.”
Arthur sighed. “That’s not what I drove all the way out here to hear.”
“You’re being dramatic. You didn’t drive anywhere. The most work you did was breathe.”
Arthur chuckled. “I do love you, son. You have my humor, if not my charm.”
Oh, here we go. Daemon thought he was quite charming. He wouldn’t want to brag to his father, but he’d never had a problem getting women. Sometimes it was too easy. The more challenging, the better.
Daemon’s thoughts drifted to the hard nut staying on the second floor. A young woman he had just provided a service to that his father would’ve applauded him for. Daemon cracked his knuckles, trying to relieve the tension building inside. How had he allowed himself to break composure? From the very beginning, she had intrigued him because she had outright dismissed him. That had never happened before—at least not since college.
She had just looked so…defeated. And she was here all alone, with a man she couldn’t stand, her best friend back home fighting in the streets of Bendola. She’d looked at him with trust, and he had violated that by crossing professional boundaries.
It didn’t matter how she had clung to him. How his heart had raced when she sighed his name. And he could forget all about the unfamiliar and rapidly growing desire to give her more than his protection. To provide for her. To keep her safe.
Always.
“If you don’t have anything else, Dad, I really have to get back to work,” Daemon said, annoyed. First his father and then thoughts of Zuri and how full and sweet her lips had tasted. Her warm body pressed against his kept his desire at a ten, when it should be nonexistent, if he was going to remain objective and keep her safe. He couldn’t become emotionally involved with a client. There was still time to right that wrong.
Just keep his lips and hands to himself.
He balled his hands into fists, ignoring how his fingers itched to touch Zuri’s body. He wasn’t like his father. A man who embodied the word “dishonor.” Despite being a crack shot in business, Arthur’s morality was in a freefall. Daemon wouldn’t follow him on that jump.
“You better work your client,” Arthur muttered and stood abruptly. His gaze lingered on Daemon, who avoided looking at his father.
When they exited Daemon’s office, they came face-to-face with Zuri. She had changed clothes, and her tightly coiled hair glistened, betraying her shower. She set the glass in her hand on a table next to the sofa, which also held a plate of food. Daemon’s stomach growled for food while his mouth watered for more of Zuri’s kisses.
“Ah, you must be Zuri.” Arthur held out his hand for Zuri’s. She complied, and he kissed it before covering it with another hand.
Daemon’s ire rose. She might not feel it, but how it looked to Daemon was his father was trapping her.
“You are?” Zuri asked without confirming her identity.
“Arthur Knight.”
Zuri’s brown eyes moved from him to Daemon. “Daemon’s father?”
“That’s correct. You are even lovelier in person.”
Zuri tried in vain to draw back her arm. Daemon came beside Zuri as his father overtly ogled her body. He took Zuri’s arm and assisted in snatching her free from his father’s grip. “Don’t you have that meeting, Father?”
Arthur ignored him. “It’s been my absolute pleasure,” he drawled at Zuri.
Daemon still held her arm and felt her stiffen. Either she recognized his father was a scoundrel, or she just had disdain for billionaires.
Or the Knight men in general.
Arthur’s sharp gaze struck Daemon. “You let me know the second you decide. It’s time to take your position. Don’t force me to do something rash.”
“In that case, stay married.”
Arthur laughed loudly. “She’s on her way out the door, believe me.” He sauntered toward the front door.
Daemon did believe.
Chapter 8
Zuri didn’t breathe—and Daemon didn’t release her—until she heard the front door slam behind Arthur Knight. A few of the guys in the room whistled.
“Your dad…” said one of them.
Daemon sighed and ran
a hand over his eyes. “I know. Sorry about that, guys. I didn’t have any idea he was coming.”
“We know. He always does that.”
Daemon grimaced. “We should really look into a better security system. Detect when he’s coming, and deny him entrance.”
The guys laughed.
“The best thing about being out here,” another guy stated, “is you don’t actually need to have a lot of security. We’re out in the country. No one would even look here.”
“No one except Arthur Knight,” Daemon said dryly. “I should’ve never told him I was basing Knight’s Shield here.” He eyed Zuri’s plate. “That looks amazing, and I’m starving.” He moved toward the kitchen.
Zuri sat down and began eating while observing the guys at their desks. Her eyes strayed to one of the flat screens showing a televised link to the Bendolan news media. The ticker at the bottom only talked about a new government program for education. Zuri almost choked on her incredibly delicious food. All the government programs were laughable. Designed to be ineffective, keep the people in desperate need, and continuously line the dictator’s pockets. Democracy for her country couldn’t come soon enough.
Daemon took a seat beside her. “How’s the food?”
She swallowed her mouthful. “It’s incredible.”
“Yeah, I made a good call hiring our kitchen staff. The chefs are amazing. If you’re enjoying dinner, just wait until you have dessert.”
Zuri frowned, although her taste buds were dancing with joy. “I feel guilty eating this well when a lot of my people go without food for days and days.”
Daemon nodded. “I’m no stranger to impoverished conditions. I deployed to Afghanistan and saw firsthand the devastation people experience under terrorist rule. People’s farms burned, and livestock killed. Land that had been owned by families for generations confiscated.”
He did understand. Zuri’s heart warmed. “I thought with your boat and your plane—”
“And this house, and the food, and the limo that I can’t live without a silver spoon in my mouth?” He grinned while chewing his food.
