Knight's Game Read Online Free PDF

He didn’t hear the door shut because he was calculating how much liquor it would take tonight to erase the memory of Katherine’s tears when she’d looked up from his laptop that day in Hong Kong.
    He was still there after the office had gone dark, another opened bottle in his hand. The wall of muted TV screens opposite his desk was the only illumination in the room, his eyes half shut against the glare, wretched memories of losing Katherine agitating his thoughts.
    The door slowly opened; a beautiful, leggy blonde quietly entered the room, shut the door behind her and leaned back against it. ‘I’m the last one here, Mr Knight,’ she said in asoftly accented English. ‘I was wondering if you needed anything before I leave.’
    The innuendo was thick enough to cut with a knife.
    Explicit enough to penetrate the layers of Dominic’s despair.
    At the familiar tone of voice, he automatically looked up and crooked his finger. ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Tatiana,’ she said, moving towards his desk.
    ‘Surname?’ He’d loosened his tie and collar, his attire otherwise unaltered since the meeting, his white shirt a vivid contrast to his dark suit in the heavily shadowed room.
    ‘Ismay.’
    No politician he knew, nor a family of his acquaintance. That didn’t make it necessarily safe, but safer. ‘How long have you worked here, Tatiana?’ he gently queried, instinctively surveying the lovely young woman. Max had good taste.
    ‘A year, sir.’
    ‘Have we met?’
    ‘Twice, sir.’
    ‘And what do you do for us?’
    ‘I’m one of your attorneys.’
    ‘And you were wondering if I needed anything?’ he murmured.
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    His gaze narrowed at that third
sir
and he wondered if they’d met somewhere other than the office. Or were his vices common knowledge? ‘Why did you think I might need something?’
    ‘You were all alone in the dark.’ Opaque glass panels framed the door.
    ‘Drinking.’
    ‘I see that.’
    ‘Would you like a drink?’ A gratuitous impulse or perhaps a mechanical prompt in a situation like this.
    ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
    He shut his eyes, the bittersweet phrase like a punch in the gut: he’d said it to Katherine during their first breakfast together at the Garden House and again in his office after the cocktail party – both occasions lush with memory. ‘Actually, I
would
mind,’ he said, his voice suddenly crisp as he shoved himself upright from his lazy sprawl. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Ismay.’ He smiled politely. ‘I’m too drunk to be good company. Although, I appreciate your concern. It was a pleasure to meet you’ – he dipped his head – ‘again. Have a pleasant evening.’ He grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and thought about offering an additional apology when she didn’t move. But he stared at her instead until she did move because he had no intention of fucking her. Now or ever.
    After a slow five count, she turned away.
    Jesus, he thought glumly, watching the door shut on Miss Ismay, he couldn’t even accept a beautiful woman’s offer of sex. He was seriously fucked up. Then a highly unpleasant thought surfaced. There wasn’t a chance in hell Katherine was going without sex – not with her libido. And for a fraction of a second he thought about calling Tatiana back. But he didn’t want her; he only wanted Katherine – who couldnever get enough fucking, who was always ready, who was so incredibly responsive he had only to touch her and she was wet for him.
    He swore under his breath, then out loud.
    Christ, it was like going through withdrawal, his cravings so intense he couldn’t function normally. He was edgy, couldn’t sleep; he was drinking alone when he never did. At least he wasn’t hallucinating yet. Then he swore again, because Katherine was on his mind constantly, her image stamped on his brain, and if that wasn’t hallucinating, it was only a matter of interpretation.
    He shoved the bottle away, then the glass.
    An addiction