and most glamorous people, he stood out. In the way a sleek, silent shark would stand out in a pool of clown fish.
God, she was officially losing it. And she laid the blame squarely at the feet of Gideon Knight.
Because, really, how could any woman stare into those midnight eyes and not forget everything but how she could willingly drown in them, even as he submerged her in a pleasure as dark and stunning as his gaze?
As soon as the illicit thought entered her head an image of him crouched over her, all that midnight-black hair loose from its knot and flowing over his shoulders, tumbling around them, flashed through her mind. Her heart thumped against her chest, and she exhaled an unsteady breath, that flame of unwanted desire dancing low in her belly again. With a mental shove, she thrust the hot image out of her mind, but the vision of how he’d looked just moments ago, when she turned for one last glance, refused to be evicted as easily.
His tailor, whoever he or she was, must’ve been in love with Gideon because his tuxedo traced his powerful but lean frame. From the wide shoulders and chest that tapered to a slim waist and down to long, muscular legs, he was the picture of urbane elegance and wealth. Strength. Beauty.
Imperial.
The word leaped into her head, and though she wanted to scoff at the description, she couldn’t. It fit. With the beautiful eyes, the sharp slant of cheekbones, the arrogant nose, the wide, sensual, almost cruel curve of his mouth and the rock-hard jut of his jaw, he reminded her of a long-ago king from a mysterious Asian country, standing on a wall, an unseen wind teasing his long black hair as he surveyed the land he ruled. Hard, shrewd, somehow removed from the masses.
He would’ve been completely intimidating if not for the incongruity of all that hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head. Someone so polished, so sophisticated, so rigid in his appearance wearing a...man bun.
It was the rebellious flouting of the unspoken, constricting rules that governed their social realm that had stirred a curiosity she couldn’t erase. Even now.
You’re being ridiculous.
Shaking her head, she emitted a sound of self-directed disgust and yanked a brown paper towel from the dispensary. She quickly dried her hands, tossed the now damp towel in the trash and strode from the bathroom. With at least another three hours of work ahead of her, she couldn’t afford to remain hiding back here any longer. More prep work awaited her, as dinner hadn’t even been served yet—
The door to the break room swung open, and she barely managed to stifle her startled gasp.
The tall, imposing figure of Gideon Knight filled the doorway.
Her heart lodged in her throat. What the hell was he doing back here? But only seconds passed before the answer whispered through her skull.
You.
Denial, swift and firm, rose within her. But it couldn’t extinguish the kindling of desire and traitorous, foolish hope.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, swiping her already-dry palms down the sides of her pants. And when his gaze took in the nervous gesture, she cursed herself for betraying her agitation to this man.
“Looking for you.”
Excitement fluttered in her before she could smother the reaction. Crossing her arms over her chest, she frowned. Fought the instinctive urge to retreat from the intense, sexual magnetism that seemed to pour off him and vibrate in the room.
“Well, I need to return to work.” She pretended to glance down at the slim, gold-faced watch on her wrist. “So, if you’ll excuse me...”
An emotion crossed his face, but was there and gone before she could decipher it. Probably irritation at being told no. “I wanted to apol—”
But the rest of his explanation snapped off as the room plummeted into darkness.
A cry slipped out of Shay, panic clawing at her throat.
The deep, thick dark pressed down on her chest like a weight, cutting off her breath.
What was going on? What happened? Why...?
“Camille.” The sound of that calm voice carrying an undercurrent of steel snapped her out of the dizzying fall into hysteria. Hands wrapped around both her upper arms, the grip firm, steadying. His voice and his touch grounded her, although her pulse continued to thud and echo in her head like a hammer. “Easy.” One of his hands slid up her arm, over her shoulder and slipped around the back of her neck. Squeezed. “Stay with me. Breathe.”
She closed her eyes, as if that could block out the utter lack of light. Still, she latched on to him—his voice, his fresh yet earthy scent of wind and sandalwood, the solid density of the forearms she’d at some point clutched. Seconds, minutes—hell, it felt like hours—passed while she focused on calming her racing heart, on breathing. And soon, the sense of being buried alive started to lift.
His hold on her arm and neck never eased.
As the initial bite of panic slowly unhinged its jaws, the weight of his touch—the security and comforting effect of it—penetrated her fear.
“—I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, she heard a wobbly chuckle escape her. Belatedly, she loosened her grip on him and dropped her arms. “God, I don’t... I’m not even afraid of the dark,” she whispered.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he reassured her.
His hands abandoned her neck and arm, but one located and clasped her fingers. In the next instant, a pale blue glow appeared. A cell phone. The illumination barely pushed back the inky thickness surrounding them, but it highlighted his face, and relief weakened her knees. Only moments ago, she’d wanted to get as far away from him as possible. And now her eyes stung with gratefulness for his serene presence. For not being alone.
“I need to go see if I can find out what’s going on. Here.” Holding the cell out in front of him, he carefully guided her to the couch against the far wall. Still holding her hand, he lowered her to the cushion. “Will you be all right? I have to take my cell with me to try and either get a call or text out. I promise to return in a few minutes.”
“Of course.” She nodded, injecting a vein of steel into her voice. God, she was stronger than this. “I’ll be fine here.”
In the cell’s minimal light, she caught his steady, measuring stare. “Good,” he said after a few moments, returning her nod. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared, returning her to the dark. She focused on maintaining even breathing, reminding herself she hadn’t been catapulted into a deep pit where terrifying, malformed things lurked, eager for the chance to take a bite out of her. She really shouldn’t have watched Stephen King’s It last night...
“Camille.”
She jerked her head up, and once more that rush of relief washed over her as Gideon and his beautiful light appeared in front of her again.
“Hey,” she said, unable
