The candle on our table flickered before a swirl of smoke circled. The hostess hurried over to light a new one. It was just enough of an interruption to create space between us. I needed space and air. I pushed off Knight to sit.
“More champagne?” I raised my glass.
He sat. His scowl was even sexy. He poured another glass for me.
“Where did you come from Kennedy Martin?” he asked, his elbows digging into the table. “What brings your family to New Orleans? Is it just you and your dad?”
I always struggled with questions regarding my family. My place in it. My father. It helped that Knight’s family ran the same way mine did. When I tried to date guys in college, things always ended abruptly the second any guy suspected my father’s line of work. It was too scary to date a mob boss’ daughter.
“I finished my senior year early. My father wanted to explore expanding his business here. We moved from Philadelphia. It’s only the two of us.” I blinked. “That’s my story. What’s yours?”
Knight ran his index finger along my arm. It was a purposeful stroke as if he had chartered a course on my skin to explore. “I guess I’ll answer short and sweet with short and sweet. Born and raised in New Orleans,” he answered. “My family has been here for generations.”
“College?”
He nodded. “Tulane. I graduated five years ago.” I knew he was older than me. But twenty-eight seemed almost untouchable. It added another layer to him that seemed to push him farther away.
“Your parents...” I chose my words carefully. “They made sure your sister had a good match. A happy one.” I bit my tongue. “Have they done that for you? Any prospective mergers?”
The darkness in his eyes was consuming. A depth of obsidian I’d never seen. I swallowed hard as if I had stepped into a pit knowingly and willingly. I was wading through it, with no tools to navigate this man’s moods. Hours in, and I was in frightening territory, but I couldn’t stop. I was drawn to him. I wanted to understand his reaction during the toast. I wanted to know what his father’s words had meant to him. Was his life as twisted as mine?
“No. No mergers.” There was bitterness in his tone. “I have privileges Seraphina doesn’t. I plan to take advantage of them. Fully,” he emphasized.
I didn’t know why his answer made my heart beat faster. It didn’t help that he was sexy as hell. Tall. Cocky and confident. I didn’t know whether Knight was as bad and ruthless as the players I always met in my father’s world. Was he hardened and soulless? Did he spit out good people to make a deal? Would he spit me out when he was done? Was I willing to take that chance?
“It’s getting late.” My champagne glass was empty. Another round would be too much. I already felt light-headed at the engagement party.
“Giving up your freedom already?” he taunted.
The words clawed at me.
“I don’t think you can offer my freedom. It was fun for one night. Thank you for introducing me to your hideout.” I tried to smile, but the reality was suffocating. I was no different than Seraphina. Did he see it? Feel it? I wanted to own my destiny. I wanted to control my fate. My life. My love. I didn’t have that kind of power; neither did his sister. But he did.
I looked away before my voice cracked.
“Kennedy?”
“Hmm?” My eyes drifted toward him again.
“I could drive you home, or I could take you one more place,” he offered. “It’s your decision, but I think we both know Kimble will be hell-bent on keeping an even closer eye on you after tonight. This might be your last night out for a while.”
“It almost sounds as if you hope I’m locked in the tower.” I peered at Knight.
“Hell, no. I just want you to consider that if you’re going to go rogue, you might want to take full advantage of it.”
My father was lying in his room, trying to recover from bronchitis. He was taking enough medication to sleep for a week. He didn’t know I hadn’t returned from the Castille-Corban engagement party. Kimble wouldn’t want him to know he lost me.
I pinched my lips together. “Let me guess. You want to take me back to your place. Show me the spectacular view of New Orleans from your over the top penthouse.”
He clicked his tongue. “No, not at all. But you paint a nice picture.” His eyebrows waggled, and my cheeks turned crimson. “I could change the plan I had in mind. Yours sounds better.”
Shit. He was intimidating. A smartass. A playboy.
“Let’s stick to plan A.”
He chuckled. “If you insist.”
“Is it as quaint as this place?” I tested. I had already fallen in love with the French bar.