Knight's Mistress Read online

  ‘You should find it.’

  ‘If we’re comparing roads to hell, you were a fellow traveller not too long ago,’ Dominic said with heavy sarcasm. ‘How old is Conall now?’

  Max raised his hands in surrender. ‘You’re right. I’m done being pious.’ He grinned. ‘Conall’s going to be one next week.’

  ‘Then we’d better see that you’re back in Hong Kong by then. Shit.’ Sliding up from his lounging pose, Dominic contemplated his driver as he exited the house, looking grim. ‘Looks like Jake struck out. It’s up to you, Max. I’d go but it would only make things worse.’

  ‘You could leave her here.’

  ‘I actually need Miss Hart in Singapore. The bank’s being uncooperative.’

  ‘Werner could bring the decoding.’

  ‘He’s not my type.’

  Max gave him a dubious glance. ‘I didn’t know you had one.’

  ‘If I wanted to argue, I could argue with Miss Hart. I won’t hurt her. Is that better?’ Dominic spoke with a level of politeness that was demonstrably strained.

  Jake slid into the driver’s seat. ‘Sorry, boss.’

  ‘Never mind. Max is going to talk Miss Hart down from the barricades, aren’t you, Max?’ Then even the pretext of politeness disappeared from Dominic’s voice. ‘Carry her out, if you have to.’

  Max shot him a sardonic look. ‘What about the neighbours?’

  ‘Fuck the neighbours.’

  That was pretty clear. ‘It might take a while.’

  ‘Fine,’ Dominic grunted. ‘Go do your magic.’

  *

  As personal agent for Dominic Knight the past five years, Max’s diplomatic and persuasive skills were honed to a fine pitch. Fifteen minutes later, when he and Kate walked out of the house, Kate was not only smiling, she was wearing the jade-green cashmere sweats and hoodie Dominic had purchased for her.

  A perfect colour with her hair, Dominic thought, pleased on any number of levels – personally, professionally, aesthetically. Miss Hart looked stunning – and happy.

  As she entered the car, her smile faded.

  Not that Dominic’s pleasure was in any way quashed now that he had what he wanted. ‘I’m pleased you could join us, Miss Hart.’ Gracious, cordial, he was on his best behaviour.

  She looked at him, squinty eyed. ‘I wish I could say the same.’

  His smile was bland. ‘Nevertheless, you should find Singapore interesting. Did Max mention we have a house there? One of the original trading stations. There’s only a few left.’

  ‘I told her.’ Max spoke over his shoulder as the car pulled away from the kerb. ‘I’m taking Miss Hart on a tour of the town tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t forget to show her The Pigeonhole.’ Dominic flicked a glance at Kate. ‘A popular coffeehouse for techies. You’ll like it.’ Then he leaned over, held her gaze and grinned. ‘It’s only eight days, Miss Hart. Surely you won’t pout the entire time.’

  ‘I might.’ But she couldn’t entirely repress her smile with that boyish grin so close. And let’s face it, all the glorious rest of him, too, was cranking up her body into overdrive. It was like living in a hurricane, her emotions swirling every which way, alternately pissed off and not pissed off depending on her wayward desires or Dominic Knight’s insolence.

  He sat back. ‘There, that’s better. Did you let your grandmother know where you were going?’

  Her surprise showed. The heat in her eyes did too.

  ‘We wouldn’t want Nana to worry,’ he smoothly said, liking the heat.

  ‘How do you know about Nana?’ What else did he know? Hopefully, he wasn’t a mind-reader.

  ‘Tell her, Max, how you vet our prospective employees. How your intelligence contacts get you anything you need.’

  ‘Tell her yourself,’ Max muttered, busy texting.

  ‘I get no respect,’ Dominic said with mock chagrin. ‘The short version, Miss Hart, is that you did your homework before your interview and we did ours. I’ve never lived in a small town. Is small-town living as idyllic as the movies suggest?’

  ‘Do you really care?’

  ‘When it comes to you, I do.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Curiosity, I suppose.’

  ‘Then you must tell me about growing up in San Francisco.’ She gave him a brittle smile. ‘Just curiosity.’

  ‘Christ, you’re prickly.’

  ‘Look, I know there’s no privacy left in the world, but I don’t have to like it. No more than I have to like being forced to accommodate you when I thought I was done. Couldn’t Werner do this?’

  Dominic saw Max’s shoulder twitch and almost told her the truth just to see her reaction. He tamped down the impulse and spoke a half-truth instead. ‘You’re more familiar with the methodology. And I’m sure Max told you, you’ll be well paid for this extra task.’

  ‘Everything’s not about money.’

  ‘I find it generally is.’ She reminded him of some intrepid heroine, like Joan of Arc. But then, as now, there were always men who felt the need to chastise women like that.

  ‘You must know the wrong people,’ she muttered, his bland coercion annoying.

  ‘That’s probably true. In the case of the Bucharest plant, I certainly do know the wrong people. As soon as the Singapore bank cooperates, we’ll replace the management in Bucharest. But until the bank releases my money – which is your job, Miss Hart, to explain the transfers you found – the situation’s in limbo.’ He nodded faintly. ‘You see how indispensable you are.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘So I have leverage?’

  ‘It depends what you mean by leverage.’

  ‘I mean my skills.’

  ‘What sort of skills exactly?’ he drawled. She was easy to tease; she always rose to the bait.

  A high voltage glare, glittering with affront. ‘I’d love to sue your ass.’

  He smiled. ‘Get in line, Miss Hart.’ Then the message ping went off on his phone. He glanced at the caller name, said, ‘Excuse me,’ pulled up the message and began keying in what turned out to be a lengthy reply.

  By the time he’d finished, the Mercedes was passing through the gates of a small airfield. Finishing up, Dominic slipped his phone into the pocket of his black leather jacket. ‘Offer our apologies to the pilots, Max.’ He reached for the door handle as the car slowed. ‘There are movies on the plane, Miss Hart, if you’re interested,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘And books and magazines.’

  Before the driver came to a complete stop, Dominic had leaped from the car and was striding towards the private jet, his phone to his ear. Max helped Kate out of the car, and escorted her to the plane. She heard Dominic swear, then swear some more before he ran up the ramp stairs and disappeared inside the Gulfstream.

  Max showed her to a seat. ‘Ask the steward for anything you need.’ Then he disappeared into what looked like an office. She caught a glimpse of Dominic pacing inside before the door closed.

  An attentive steward, middle-aged, with an air of efficiency, was hovering at her elbow. ‘Mr Knight asks that you forgive his absence. Some urgent business came up. May I get you something? Food, a drink, something to read? If you’d like to rest later, the second door on the left’ – he pointed behind her – ‘has a bed.’

  And so her journey to Singapore began. Two super-competent, polite stewards were devoted to her comfort while Dominic and Max remained closeted. She ate, she drank, she watched a current movie, then another, leafed through a dozen magazines. They stopped once to refuel, and she glanced out the window, but didn’t recognize her surroundings. She was told they were in Kazakhstan. She was offered champagne with dinner and soon the lure of the bed became irresistible.

  She rose from her seat and moved to the door indicated earlier. ‘We land in an hour and a half, miss,’ the steward explained.

  ‘I’ll just lie down till then. What time is it in Amsterdam?’

  ‘Ten p.m.’

  She shouldn’t have been so tired. It wasn’t late.
But she’d not gotten much sleep last night, thanks to her sexual dreams starring Dominic Knight. She’d come three times before she fully woke, which was both good and bad. Good because she was less likely to embarrass herself by openly drooling in his presence, and bad because the memories were a continuous loop in her mind. In lush colour, with sound effects and Dominic Knight in all his visual glory doing her on every piece of furniture in her apartment. The hardest part, even in her dream, was not making a sound so Mrs Van Kessel wouldn’t come running at her screams. Although, come to think of it, the housekeeper wouldn’t dare interrupt Dominic’s amusements.

  Her luggage had been brought into the bedroom, her suitcase lay open on a stand next to a teakwood dresser that held a compartmented vanity case of expensive perfumes along with a pearl-handled brush and comb set. The bed was covered in a gorgeous blue quilt in what had to be Thai silk, a sizeable bathroom was provisioned with luxury toiletries, a bookshelf was well stocked with reading materials and the carpet underfoot was soft as silk. If she hadn’t worried that the plane would go down if she texted Nana, she would have sent her grandmother a detailed description of the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

  As landing time approached, Dominic eased open the bedroom door and glanced in on his temporary employee, modern Joan of Arc. She was rolled up in the quilt, only her wild copper curls and a portion of her face visible above the swaddling silk. Her skin was slightly flushed in sleep, her angelic profile incredibly childlike.

  Christ, he’d be ten kinds of stupid to mess with her.

  Softly shutting the door, he slowly exhaled. He shouldn’t even be thinking about dragging her into his wayward world of carnal games. He should give her a free pass. Or maybe just give her the illusion of a free pass. Cold-blooded manipulation or decency? What would it be?

  It was only a debate in the abstract.

  He wanted her and nothing in his life had ever seemed so simple.

  ‘Don’t,’ a voice behind him warned.

  ‘I’m still thinking about it,’ Dominic said, perjuring himself without a qualm as he turned to face Max.

  ‘Stop thinking about it. Let her go home after Singapore.’

  Dominic’s face went blank. ‘Thanks for the advice. What time’s our appointment at the bank?’

  CHAPTER 6

  The plane landed on an airfield that largely serviced private planes. Closer to the city in terms of drive time than the commercial hub, it saved twenty minutes of commuting for busy executives.

  At five-thirty a.m. the temperature was already twenty-eight degrees, the humid air stifling as they exited the plane. A faint pink glow low on the horizon signalled sunrise and another day of sweltering heat.

  Still half asleep, Kate followed the men down the ramp to the tarmac where another sleek, black Mercedes awaited them. Public transportation wasn’t a consideration for people like Dominic Knight, she grumpily thought, lack of sleep adding to her resentment, or perhaps pique, at her employer’s casual acceptance of his exalted lifestyle. On the other hand, she decided with a yawn, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Climbing into the back seat of the air-conditioned car while the men talked to some uniformed official, she curled up in a corner and promptly went back to sleep.

  When Dominic entered the car, he took one look at Kate and cautioned the driver, ‘No race driving today, Chu. The lady’s sleeping.’

  ‘No problem, boss. You won’t even know we’re moving.’

  The driver was as good as his word, smoothly navigating the early morning traffic like a jockey guiding his mount through a jostling pack in the home stretch. While Chu and Max exchanged local gossip, Dominic had an undisturbed opportunity to study his sleeping passenger. She looked young, or younger than she was, he corrected himself; at twenty-two her age wasn’t an issue as much as her innocence. Although she was neither young nor completely innocent, according to Max.

  But Miss Hart was so far outside his sophisticated world and his usual taste in women, that he felt as though patterns he’d followed his entire life were being rewired in his brain.

  Or maybe he was just willing to suspend disbelief.

  Or he was being rash.

  Or stupid.

  Whatever. It didn’t matter. She pleased him.

  It was as simple as that.

  He found her delicacy a serious turn-on, her fine-boned slenderness perversely virginal. As were her discreet curves that you didn’t notice at first and when you did you couldn’t stop looking.

  He tried not to stare. He tried not to think of how soft her skin would feel if he touched her. He tried not to imagine her sleeping in his bed, or not sleeping, doing other things to him, for him, accommodating him with her delectable body and defiant mind because he could make her do anything he wanted.

  He even briefly considered taking Max’s advice, being virtuous and sending her home. But even before the idea had fully formed he’d dismissed it because she stirred some raw emotion in him, unleashed a sense of feeling again that took him by surprise.

  She stirred something in him that was over and above lust, something that distinguished her from other women – like an explosion of colour in a brown and grey world caught your attention. That captivated the hell out of him. Jesus – captivated? What the fuck?

  He grimaced, looked away, felt a sudden guilt as though he were cheating on Julia. He softly swore, called himself every kind of fool, then deliberately asked Max a question and ignored Miss Hart for the remainder of the drive. Fun and games were fine. Anything else wasn’t.

  When they reached the house, Dominic jumped from the car, then waited for Max to step out. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’ll see Miss Hart to her room. Tell her someone will wake her at twelve thirty. Breakfast is at one. We leave at one forty-five.’ A quick glance to see that Kate still slept. ‘Also, if you could talk her into wearing something of Greta’s for the meeting at the bank, I’d be grateful enough to order wheels up for Hong Kong as soon as we’re done at the bank.’

  ‘Deal.’

  Dominic grinned. ‘I wish I had your charm.’

  ‘You’ve got charm enough if you’re in the mood, but what can I say?’ Max quipped. ‘She likes me.’

  Dominic’s eyelids dropped a fraction. ‘Just so long as she doesn’t like you too much.’

  A flash of a grin. ‘What would you do if she did?’

  ‘The polite answer or the truth?’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Max drawled. ‘I’m years past intimidation.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘Good. Glad to hear it. That means you give a damn. It’s been a while since you have.’

  When Kate walked into the sunny breakfast room shortly after one, both men seated at the table came to their feet.

  Dominic smiled. ‘I hope you were able to sleep, Miss Hart.’

  ‘I did. The house is amazingly quiet.’

  Dominic pulled out a chair for her. ‘The gardens blunt the noise of the city.’

  ‘They’re fantastic,’ she said, setting her laptop on the table. ‘It’s a tropical paradise outside, the colour and variety of flowers, the heady scents. I’ve only seen the kind of birds you have here in the zoo.’

  ‘We’re fortunate to have the acreage so close to the city centre.’ As she sat, he pushed her chair in. ‘Tell her, Max, how we constantly have to fight off developers.’

  While Kate was served, the discussion turned on the history of the old trading station constructed in the traditional style with large overhanging roofs, open-air porches, bedrooms with garden views and a central courtyard protected by tall, sturdy, iron-strapped gates. She learned that Singapore had been a major port for the colony when it was English, still served that purpose for the independent city state and the trading station had come into Dominic’s hands nine years ago when the former owner had gone back to England.

  Two white-coated, unobtrusive servants saw that everyone had what they needed. Dominic had already eaten. He drank coffee while Kate an
d Max had their breakfasts. It was a cosy gathering in an exotic venue, the sensation of having every whim quietly satisfied by soft-spoken servants as close to a fantasy world as Kate could imagine.

  How easily one could be seduced by such luxury. How easily one could be enticed by a man like Dominic Knight, who offered that luxury with a kind of casual disregard. Not that his looks alone wouldn’t guarantee him legions of women at his beck and call. Including those in that unforgettable blog she wished she’d never seen.

  ‘Ready?’

  Jolted from her musing, she managed a quick smile. ‘Yes, of course. Thank you for breakfast.’

  ‘You managed without bacon,’ Dominic said, his voice amused.

  ‘Because you managed not to have it served.’

  ‘You could have had it if you’d asked.’

  ‘Then I will next time.’

  He liked it that she alluded to a future breakfast. ‘If you ever want something, Miss Hart, just ask. I’m more than willing to oblige.’

  ‘Please. You’re the least obliging man I know.’

  ‘I could change.’

  She snorted.

  Max decided it was time to retreat. He had no intention of getting in the middle of whatever game Dominic was playing.

  As the door closed on Max and the servants, Dominic said, ‘I could change, Miss Hart. You never know. Anything’s possible. And thank you for wearing the suit for the meeting.’ Greta’s teal-blue suit, simply cut, was a masterpiece of tailoring. ‘Your clothes reflect on me.’

  ‘Surely, you’re not an unknown here.’

  ‘But you are.’

  ‘My problem is that these clothes of yours reflect on me,’ she coolly pointed out. ‘So whatever you want me to be, I prefer being myself.’

  ‘You don’t know what I want.’

  ‘I can guess. Particularly after the show in Amsterdam. And this.’ She flipped open the top of her laptop, tapped the keyboard a few times, looked up. ‘There. See for yourself.’

  As he rose from his chair and walked over, a video began playing. It featured a nude Dominic Knight with a braided riding crop in his hand – a long-haired, younger, super-lean Dominic Knight with sleek, corded muscles and the loose-limbed grace of a large jungle cat. Even in the unprofessional video one could see the hint of menace in the spring-coiled twitch of his hand holding the crop. Four women were either tied or handcuffed to various padded sex apparatus, some dressed in kinky lingerie, others masked, one with her mouth muzzled with a rubber ball gag. He leisurely made the rounds with his riding crop. This was not a man overcome by passion. The room was large, black velvet on the walls, mirrors everywhere, crystal chandeliers lighting the scene. It was an elegantly appointed establishment. And none of the women looked unhappy. Apparently the end result was worth it, although there were no full frontal views of Dominic. There was one brief glimpse of his engorged penis that she’d stopped on the video more times than she should have, and it was obvious that the blonde he was fucking was genuinely enjoying herself – that look on her face wasn’t staged.