Page 6 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)

CHAPTER SIX

KNIGHT

A wounded pride and a wounded ass.

T ry as I might, I don’t think I am doing a believable job of hiding my limp. After falling out of the tree last night and splattering into the mud, I barely managed to drag myself back to my car parked a few blocks from Vivian and Emma’s apartment.

It was only when I got home that I noticed how truly fucked up I appeared. The entire back and side of my pants were torn. My arms, neck, and shoulders were covered in minor scratches—thankfully, none from the rabid animal.

The fact that I didn’t break anything after being chased off the tree branch is a miracle. What is more shocking is how I didn’t get caught. I can’t even imagine how I would have explained the situation.

Sorry, I fell out of your tree, Vivian. I’m deeply infatuated with you, and I’ve been stalking you for a month now. But I’m not insane, I swear.

“Knight, you look like shit,” a way too jovial voice remarks. The comment effectively stops me in my tracks. I was hoping to get to the office unnoticed, seeing as I did have a few things I wanted to work on for some upcoming events in the next couple of weeks.

“All right, who’s the dude who handed you your ass in a fight?” Benny asks just as I turn around to face him.

It was a raccoon, actually.

“I did not get into a fight with anyone.” Some truth is better than nothing. Technically, the raccoon never got close enough to properly engage.

“You tellin’ me that pretty mug got that messed up and it wasn’t from a fight?” The large man crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

I like Benny. He’s been a good friend for a few years and one of the best dancers I’ve seen on my stage. But he’s annoying the hell out of me with this line of questioning. I am aware he’s probably concerned, but I am not having it this morning.

“Even if it was, it’s none of your business, Benjamin.

” The way he tilts his head in amusement angers me further.

I don’t love to admit it, but there are a few employees here I’ve known for so long that they’re immune to my particular style of brutishness.

“Now, if you are done with your interrogation, I’d like to get some work done. ”

“No one likes a guy with a stick up his ass, Knight,” Benny sings after me as I stagger away. “And you sure are walkin’ like you got one up there!”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I take pride in getting late into the afternoon without a run-in with Vivian. Yes, I’ve mostly kept to myself in the burlesque club’s administrative office. No, I’m not actively avoiding the woman I’ve been stalking for a month.

After nearly being caught last night, I’m unsure I can face her with the same gravitas I hide behind during our typical interactions.

Stress has invaded my thoughts, fixating on how she somehow found out I was the person outside her home last night.

With an agitated mind grasping to distract itself with something, I triple-checked the plans for a charity event we are holding at the club next week.

There is a knock at the office door just as I am about to send over the itinerary and logistics paperwork to Evelyn.

“Come in,” I respond, both dreaming of and dreading seeing Vivian enter the room.

“A sweaty young man had to escort me to your office,” my mother comments, striding into the room and elegantly planting herself into one of the leather chairs in front of my desk.

“I did not mean that to sound like a complaint, but I am winded from the maze of hallways back here. I was moments from asking to be carried bridal-style.” A smirk travels across her face.

“The dancers are here to dance, not to be your boy toys, Harriett.” I sigh and push away from the damn computer. My eyes have begun to sting from my deep dive into paperwork today, and the words have started to blend and blur more than normal.

“I’m well aware this comment will make me seem old,” Harriett begins, “but I think you might need to invest in some reading glasses, dear.” She digs into her slim wallet and retrieves a business card for her optometrist. Setting it at the edge of my desk, she continues, “Please tell me you’ve been taking breaks and using your accommodations in this office as well. ”

“Not everything is set up on this computer yet,” I confess as I rub my eyes. Being here so frequently was never my intention, and I haven’t had much of a chance to have someone properly install all the dyslexia-friendly apps and programs.

Typically, I physically write out my work as handwriting maintains my focus without straining my eyes and then dictate with a speech program during my busier days. But with everything else on my mind, I hadn’t even noticed the tension I’ve put on myself over the past few hours.

“Is there something more adding to the stress radiating from you today?” she asks. All the humor is out of her tone as she analyzes me. Her lips press together in distaste at my current state. Bruised, scratched, and looking like I haven’t slept in days.

“Bad sleep, that’s all.” My reply is curt. I can’t fucking tell her about what I’ve been up to.

“Knight—” She huffs out a breath. “I worry about you.” Reaching over the desk to where my hand lies on a stack of paperwork, Harriett cups my hand between two of hers.

Guilt seeps into me.

I don’t want her to fret over me. No matter how old I get, she always worries, and I feel horrible every time I give her something to worry about.

Learning about my nightly activities wouldn’t go well with her, so I keep the truth to myself.

I wouldn’t survive her wrath if she knew I was stalking Vivian, and yet, I have no desire to stop.

“You wanted to go over the guest list for the event next week, correct?” I ask, thankful I remembered what Harriett had come here for.

Slowly, she releases my hand after giving it a stern pat. The gesture is one to tell me she is not done with her questioning, and she will be revisiting the subject.

Well into the evening, my mother and I talk about seating arrangements and guest lists over shared cocktails and food delivery.

Her presence eases me, somewhat distracting my thoughts from obsessing over Vivian.

Though there is some comfort in knowing my girl is in the same building as me, a short walk away.

Only thirty minutes remain until we open the doors for the show tonight when I finally escort my mother out of the club.

I could tell she was considering staying for the show, and while I’m not against her having fun, I also wouldn’t want to be sitting next to her as she ogles my employees.

Thankfully, she commented that she already had dinner plans with a few of her friends.

Walking back to the front doors, I give our head security guard, Bri, a small nod as she stands in front of the quickly forming line of patrons.

Most of my employees only ever get small gestures or curt words from me.

My professionalism has been a point of pride and a reason why my entertainment conglomerate has done so well for almost two decades.

Which is another reason why my situation with Vivian is so odd.

I’ve never been interested in an employee or dated anyone in the arts and entertainment business.

It’s not a line I’ve wanted to cross, as I assume the fallout of it could be annoying to deal with.

Having learned my lesson the hard way, I know it’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.

Even after my reflection, my mind and my body do not communicate, because I still find myself maneuvering backstage to get to Vivian’s office downstairs.

As I open the door to the stairway, a flash of blonde hair takes over my sight line. Correction, a flash of blonde hair belonging to a screaming Vivian takes over my sight line.

My instincts take over, and I fall to my knees, sliding a few inches in my panicked effort to catch Vivian before she falls forward onto the last step up the stairway. Pain shoots up the leg I injured last night, but it’s the least of my worries.

I catch her with my left arm, sprawling it across her upper chest before her wrists has the chance to meet the concrete. My other arm automatically wraps around her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t slide backward.

Vivian’s eyes are closed like she is still waiting for the impact, and it takes her a moment to realize someone is holding her. Almost as if she can’t believe what she sees, she places her hand on my forearm, the tips of her fingers warm and gentle as they travel through the hair there.

I take advantage of Vivian’s stunned silence to observe her. Her short golden waves are half up and half down in a hairstyle that lets me see more of her face. She wears no makeup today, but she is just as painfully lovely.

I’ve only seen her with her signature lipstick and eyeliner. Without the eye makeup, her eyes shine in a different way. Those hazel eyes stay fixated on my forearm as her breathing evens beneath my hold.

Neither of us has moved in a few seconds, and I hope she doesn’t notice how I cradle her tighter. I can’t help it; she feels so good in my arms. I hate that such a drastic event had to happen for me to get this close to her. Her expression was terrified as she fell.

But why does it feel like I was the one who was falling?

And then she fucking pinches me.

“Vivian,” I chide, and I’m surprised at the rasp that comes with it.

“Did I die?” she asks, finally turning to meet my gaze. The question draws a huff of a laugh from me. “Are you real?” She searches my features.

“No, you did not die.” I shake my head at her, but I know a traitorous smile spreads across my lips. “And I’ll let you know that typically you pinch yourself during a reality check.”

Vivian nods, causing a few strands of her hair to fall out of the little bun atop her head. I stop myself from pushing them back in place.

“Oh no! I didn’t do that to you, did I?” She scrambles to get a better look at my forearm resting against her chest, moving it away from herself.

There is no need for me to keep holding her anymore as she’s righted herself now, but I miss the sensation all the same.

I look to where she drags her fingers over the marks I got from falling out of her tree last night.

“Uh, no.” I pull my arm away from her, but I keep my other arm wrapped around her back.

I might be panicking at the possibility of her making the connection, but I would never let her be in danger.

If she can fall up the stairs, I’m sure she can fall down the stairs as well. “These are not from you.”

You haven’t honored me with your marks.