After a one-night stand I had three kids novel Chapter 93

93

Knight hasn’t slept in our room for a couple of nights now, and neither have I. Mr. Knightly asked me to accompany him to a meeting. I called Perry to ask if Lillies and Tulips were available to babysit. Before I could even finish, Jordan and Tulips were already volunteering. The twins are excited for them to join in on their latest video. Lillies has unboxing party–lives every weekend and promised to feature the twins if they behave today.

“You okay?” Bunny asks as I buckle my heels.

“Just having a hard time sleeping.” I shrug.

I feel like she knows what that means because she doesn’t push the subject. I do full–glam makeup to cover it up. I even put on something professional to hide behind. I haven’t been able to talk to him with everything going on. He’s working. I’m working. And we’re both hardcore avoiding each other, not wanting to address the awkward conversation awaiting us. When Amold Knightly arrives, I’m so glad I’m dressed the way I am because the man looks amazing in one of my last male designs. He informed me that I would have to blend in with his entourage. He looks me over and nods.

TII wait downstairs for you. Be quick,” is all he says and leaves again.

“I’d hate to be you, Jordan says quietly as I gather my things.

“He’s not that bad. Just a little stiff.” I laugh because so far, that’s been nothing but the truth.

When I get to his Rolls Royce, there are others in the car with us. It’s so nice. I’ve never seen one up close like this, and I get to sit in it. Ah! He had asked me to bring what we’ve been working on with me, and I sat my carrier on my lap, keeping quiet. The other three are not doing well. I’ve come to identify the wet ash scent as fear, and all three of them seem terrified. The cold air conditioning is blasting through the car, but it’s not enough to cover it up–at least not for me.

One man is staring down at his lap, almost vibrating as he takes in small breaths to try and stay calm. He’s dressed in a casual Hugo–Boss suit–no tie and loafers–and it looks great, honestly. Aside from his fear, he smells clean, like he took his time to look as immaculate as he does. He’s definitely older. The white strands in his hair aren’t bleached, yet he doesn’t look that much older than me.

The woman is definitely older–by how much, I wouldn’t be able to tell. She’s dressed in a soft pink business casual mini dress. Her beautiful strawberry blonde hair is up in what is meant to look like a messy bun but is nothing short of elegant. There’s a beautiful Hermes broach on the front, covering up the scroungy holding her hair up. It matches the designs on her heels and the beautiful neck piece she’s wearing. On her lap, she has a hot pink Birkin bag with a golden rose charm. If I look like that in forty years, I will consider myself very blessed.

The man beside her gives off a creepy vibe. He’s staring out the window like he’s waiting for something to happen. The wet ash scent coming off him has something a little spicy added to it–something I’m not too familiar with.

He’s dressed in a black–on–black Versace suit. His dark hair is long at the top, long enough to reach the back of his neck, slicked back. He’s got on very flashy jewelry. I’ve seen the limited edition watch he’s wearing in Knight’s luggage. He might be my age. He doesn’t look older than the others, and while he’s dressed to impress, there’s a hint of body odor.

I’ve always noticed this from working with models day in and day out. Some went days without showering, taking a quick rínse before a show and spraying themselves with body spray and perfume. It was an issue, and I’ve had to get different models the day of shows because of this. I find it very unprofessional.

In my contracts, I’ve always required the model to soak with bath bombs and salts I provide because most of the clothes they wear are sold to the highest bidders that same day. It’s embarrassing to hand over a dress or suit smelling like BO.

The three of them slightly look at me when I take my phone out to text Mr. Knightly in the front seat that something is wrong with the man across from me. The way he’s fidgeting in his seat. He keeps pretending to scratch his forehead to wipe away the small beads of sweat that are gathering there.

-Thank you.- is all I get in return.

When we stop, my eyes snap to the man when his heartbeat starts to pick up. I’m not sure why, but Midnight zeros in on it. Then, the thing I hate starts to happen. My skin prickles in alarm as he steps out of the car. When the woman next to me goes to get out, I hold my arm out and shake my head as calmly as possible. She stares at me for a moment with her big emerald green eyes and nods, taking the hint.

Thank goodness.

When the other man exits the car, I hear a low growl before the door is slammed shut and someone smacks against the darkly tinted glass. On impact, the woman reaches out to take my hand. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm myself. I give the woman a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” she chokes out. “How did you do that?”

“Never ignore those around you,” I whisper. “No matter how scared you are. Take deep breaths. Sour scents mean something is wrong. Just try not to make it obvious.”

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03

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