Page 161 of Twisted Knight

“Not getting to seal the deal.” She takes a step back and smiles.

“What?” What the fuck is she talking about?

“I spent weeks on the GWA deal. Endless fucking hours negotiating, bargaining, and putting all the work in all by myself, and then you walk in and close the deal without letting me finish it myself.” She glances down to my cock, at the pre-come dripping off its tip before meeting my eyes again. Her smirk is a taunt I’d like to fuck right off her face and would if I weren’t preoccupied with being stunned.

“What are you…?”

“It feels kind of like this. Working yourself up, waiting for the release, just on the verge of coming, and then bam, having it yanked away. All buildup and no finish.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I laugh the words out, my head dizzy and my balls aching.

“As a heart attack.” She takes another step back and unlocks the door. My eyes all but bug out of my head as she shrugs. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have another meeting to get to.”

She opens the door and then shuts it. I stare at the door she just walked out of, hang my head, and just laugh.

That’s all I can fucking do because I’m sure as shit not stroking myself off in the server room. Besides, my hand has nothing on Rowan’s mouth.

Fucking Rowan Rothschild.

No woman has ever done something like that to me before.

And I kind of like it.

FIFTY-TWO

Holden

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

“Mom. There’s someone at the door.” I look into the bedroom of our apartment. To the bed the three of us used to share. To my mother curled in a ball on it with Mason’s flannel shirt and pillow bunched up in her arms, her nose buried in it to remember his scent.

She doesn’t stir at my words.

She never moves anymore. She lies on the bed with her eyes closed and tears streaming or watching television with a hollow stare. She goes through the motions of living but isn’t living. Gets up. Goes to work. Comes home.

She doesn’t talk and when she does it’s a whisper. It’s as if Mason took her voice with him when he died.

She barely eats. In the past month I’ve learned to get by. I know how to reload the EBT card now. What stores to go to where the food’s the cheapest to use it. I’ve taken over the cooking and the laundry. The bill paying. The living for both of us.

I lost both Mason and my mom that day. I’m just not sure which one is harder to accept. Mason because he’s actually gone or my mom because she’s here and doesn’t see me anymore.

“I think it’s the detective.” Move. Respond. Tell me you hear me. “Okay. I’ll speak with him.”

I close the bedroom door and pick up a few things on the way to the door. Detective Martin stands on the other side when I open it.

“Holden.” His smile is genuine, if a bit sad. It tells me all I need to know before he says another word.

There is no news.

There is nothing to report.

Mason’s murderer is still enjoying his life.

“Sir.” I clear my throat. “Would you like to come in?”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to intrude on your time.”

“Anything new you can tell us?”