Page 26 of One Bad Knight

11

Kat

The overwhelming mixture of Gatsby’s passion, offset by his sudden rejection, along with the words of those women at the party hammered into me without relief the rest of the night.

I still couldn’t believe the things I let him do to me. I thought I knew myself, what I liked, what I would accept, but he’d turned me into some kind of animal. Smothering myself with my pillow, I tried to block out the memory of what he’d done and how badly I wanted it.

As much as I wanted to break out my “assistant” and fill the emptiness that still demanded satisfaction, I knew Gatsby wouldn’t have gone far.

So instead, I slept like absolute shit, my sexual ache only burrowing in deeper into another kind of need. The need to be wrapped in someone’s arms, to be told I’m safe, loved, and that everything would be okay.

I hadn’t had that kind of love since my mother passed. My dad hadn’t been much for physical affection, too much always on the move. His physical efforts went toward shaking hands and kissing babies. But right now, I wanted the security of a safe pair of arms. The permission that all I had to do was just be me.

To my surprise, a hot tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away and pushed those feelings in a box.

I needed to get back to what was important, and that was being the respectable niece of a politician who was going to change the world. I had to close up my darkness and shame in a box to be the person I was supposed to. Family was about duty, and I knew how to fulfill those duties: support my family’s political agenda, and don’t embarrass them.

When the morning sun rays filled my room, my bloodshot eyes were already open to receive them. I dragged myself to the shower, the hot spray a brutal pressure against my unusually sensitive skin. But after emerging, I felt more like myself.

In the time it took to brush my teeth and lotion every inch of my skin, I scrounged up the strength to get through this day. I wasn’t some shrinking violet who needed someone else to take care of her.

And more importantly, I had my first gallery showing tonight. Today would not be ruined by demons, doom, and a certain renegade angel who was likely sitting in my tree.

Throwing on a breezy summer dress that dipped low between my breasts, with cutouts on the side, I knew it would help beat the heat of the day. Then I slipped on some bright red sandals.

I pushed open my French doors and strode into the bright morning. The smell of fresh cut grass assailed me. It took me longer to find Gatsby in the tree than I thought it would. God, he was damned good at hiding in plain sight.

“Are you coming?” I asked Gatsby in an impatient tone. “There is a lot to do today.”

If he insisted on being my shadow, we’d do it my way.

In a moment, he stood before me. All lean muscle, smelling like the fresh morning and something darker. Judging by the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept much either.

Shooting him a flirty look from under my eyelashes, I noted how he instantly leaned an inch closer, his mouth parted.

“Do us both a favor and take a shower before you come down for breakfast.” Then I turned and waltzed back into the house to go join my family in the dining room.

I could have sworn I heard a low growl behind me, and I ignored the shivers it sent racing up and down my spine.

My uncle John met me with a broad smile at the head of the table. “Don’t you look summer-ready this morning?”

I allowed myself to follow the delicious smells of baked goods to the buffet table. I grabbed a plate and filled it up with eggs, fruit, and even plucked up a warm croissant. I needed something substantial to settle my tummy for the excitement of the day.

I smiled back, taking a seat across from Gabe. I caught sight of Dave through the windows. He was on the terrace, talking emphatically on his phone.

“Thank you, today’s a big day.” I poured a small glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

“It absolutely is.” My uncle’s smile broadened further. “Gabe,” he prompted.

“Yes, congratulations,” Gabe said, without looking up from his tablet.

“Well, I think congratulations are better saved until after tonight,” I said, before tearing off some buttery croissant and popping it in my mouth.

A flash of confusion crossed my uncle’s face. “Tonight…”

“You know,” I said, “after people see my pieces in the gallery and don’t immediately want to burn the place down.”

My uncle gave a long blink as if trying to compute something.