Page 49 of Deviant Knight (Knight's Ridge Empire 4)

Stella shoots me a knowing look, along with an appreciative glance over my dance partner. She nods, a cheeky smile playing on her face, but then she tilts her chin, gesturing to a place—or I should say a person—behind me.

I don’t need her to tell me. I know he’s there.

I felt it the moment he stepped into the room.

All the hairs on the back of my neck lifted and my temperature picked up a few extra degrees, which is really saying something seeing as it’s like a freaking sauna in here.

“I need to pee,” I tell Ben.

“I’ll take you. I know where the secret ones are.”

I hold his stare for a beat, feeling less than in control of myself. But, grateful that I’m not going to stand in a long queue, I happily accept his offer and take his hand.

My legs are like jelly as I make my way across the room, everything—other than the death glare I’m receiving from Theo—a blur.

He’s standing in the only doorway to get out of the room, so we have no choice but to try and squeeze around him to go wherever it is that we’re going.

I’m hardly surprised when his hand wraps around my upper arm, but when I look over, I don’t find his eyes burning into me, but into Ben.

“Emmie,” he warns, still not bothering to look at me, “I warned you,” he growls, low enough that only I hear.

“And I told you to get fucked. Excuse us. We’ve got somewhere… better to be.”

To my shock, he releases my arm when I take a step forward, but we don’t get to escape before his voice hits me again.

“I’m fucking watching you, Thompson.” Theo’s voice is cold and deadly. It hits me right in the clit.

Stupid fucking vodka.

Thompson.

That name really should mean something, I know it should, but I’m struggling to get a grasp on any kind of rational thought. Well, anything other than the, “Fuck you, Cirillo. You don’t fucking own me,” I snarl at Theo as we continue out of the room.

“What the fuck was that?” Ben asks, looking back at a seething mafia psychopath.

“That was a jumped-up, conceited, bellend of epic proportions, dickhead.”

“R-right,” he states. “I can’t disagree, but I’d also rather not die tonight.”

“He won’t kill you tonight.”

“No, he’ll fucking torture me for two weeks for touching you before allowing me the pleasure.”

“He’s not that bad,” I agree, although it’s weak at best.

“Emmie,” he says, leading us up a hidden set of stairs that seem to magically appear at the back of the house where no one else is. “You’re far from stupid, so don’t act like it. I was drawn to you because you’re not like all the other girls here. You’re not a dumb airhead, so don’t even try it.”

My lips part to respond to that, but no words come out. Well, not ones in relation to what he said, anyway.

“How do you know where you’re going?” I ask my brows pulling together as we get to the top of the stairs.

His hand rests at the small of my back as he leads me toward a closed door.

His quiet chuckle is all I need for everything to slot into place.

Twirling toward him, the world around me spins, and I have no choice but to reach out for the wall to steady myself.

“Who’s your cousin?” I demand, although I already know the answer.