The Marine (Black Hawke Security #3)

CHAPTER ONE

KNOX

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I hear the bathroom door open and drop my phone, glancing at the naked woman walking back into my bedroom.

Stacey Rodgers.

She’s one of the lawyers at Luxingtons, the high-end department store here in the United States, who stock our products. Our being Montgomery Enterprises.

Or more to the point, our brand Verity this isn’t going to happen. I don’t date. I fuck. I thought we were on the same page.

It always works.

Their pride kicks in and they give me a shrug muttering that, yeah, I just thought it was an enjoyable night and we could do it again.

Nope.

I don’t like leftovers.

Stacey, though, is highly focused on her career and climbing the ladder within Luxingtons. She has a reputation for being tough, and today that determination was focused on me.

It was sexy as hell.

Hence my hour-long erection and deciding to do something about it.

Now?

Now I want to open my emails and sip on a Macallan once she’s gone back to her hotel.

More than most, I’ve got a clear path for my future. In another ten years, or so, I’ll take over my father’s role as CEO and lead Montgomery Enterprises.

Already I’ve made an impression with the board and our partners. When I was appointed the director of marketing sales had been low. I know why. My mother had died a few years earlier, and we’d all struggled to come to grips with the loss. My father included.

That had reflected on the numbers.

Now, a few years on, we’re back in a strong phase and soon we’ll be launching our next Verity I’ll give her that.

“Stay up here, Knox. I can ride in the elevator on my own. I’m a big girl.”

“Then I’ll see you at the next review in six months.”

We politely smile at one another for a final moment as I hold the door open. Then Stacey is gone.

Click.

Jesus, I hope she doesn’t share bedtime stories with Selena, her senior manager. I fucked Selena six months ago when she was in Philly for the last review.

I’m a private man. Who I sleep with is no one else's business, but being part of a wealthy family means people think they have a right to know. Especially the media.

Then there’s my father.

Ward had seen Selena and I chatting after our meeting six months ago, and apparently picked up on our chemistry.

“Good night last night?” he’d asked me the next day.

“Yup.” I sat opposite his huge oak desk, sipping my coffee while Ward swirled his ink pen around his fingers.

Deceptively casual, as I’d quickly learned.

“So did you fuck Selena Warner?”

Jesus.

“What?” I choked on my coffee, coughing as I wiped my shirt and blazer. Fortunately, I have a closet in my office with several spare shirts, suits, ties, and shoes.

“Answer the question,” Ward pressed.

“Christ, Dad. Yes. I used a rubber. What’s the problem?” I had asked, irritated.

Does he think I’m fucking fifteen?

Shaking his head, he leaned back in his chair. “If you don’t know the answer to that, I’m even more disappointed. Lexington’s are an important retailer for us.”

His comment had fucked me off even more. I mean, welcome to the twenty-first century, Dad. How did he think people met? At damn work. Among other places.

People fucked, they dated, and one day got married and made little humans together.

“Is it on the news? No. Does anyone here know? No.” I widened my arms. “Selena left happy, so I don’t know what the issue is.”

He’d sat staring at me with those disappointed eyes, but I’d made it clear to him that he had no right to dictate what I did with my cock.

He was my father.

He was my boss.

But what I did in my personal life, as long as there was mutual consent and it didn’t interfere with business, was none of his business.

However, I’ve been a lot more discrete with Stacey, and the dozen other women since then. I’m confident he hasn’t noticed.

Would he feel the same if I started dating one of them? No. Well, sorry Dad, but wining and dining women and all that charming stuff is for other men.

I fuck.

I fuck rough and hard.