Pride & Pleasure (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

His plans would have to be placed on hold, at least until his sister was well.

At times he wondered if he should sell the estate and go back to his bachelor lifestyle. Exclusive parties. Sexy, desirable women. Traveling as he pleased.

Those were the days.

If he wanted sex-for-convenience, he could easily find another willing partner. Women found him attractive. The large bank account, respectable last name, and his seat as owner of the vineyards didn’t hurt a man’s reputation. He swore he could be covered in warts, no teeth, and stink like a troll and no woman would notice as long as he had money. That made his chest cave. Would a woman ever see past the green and see him for what he was? Really, it was his own fault. He’d gotten skilled at keeping women at arm’s length, or choosing to occupy his time with ladies who had dollar signs for irises. Another trait passed down from his father who’d had a mistress on every four corners of the world after Rose died. During one of the rare conversations Victor had with Theobald, he’d said, “Son, sampling every flower in the garden is fine, but when you find the exotic flower, the unique one that stands out from the rest, make sure you don’t pluck her and toss her away. Instead, nurture her and watch her blossom.”

Victor moaned and the couple looked at him curiously. He smiled, then went back to his thoughts.

Last night he’d gone to bed and the ache in his groin had almost been unbearable. That’s why he’d picked up the phone and called Selena, asking if he could come over to see her. She’d forgiven him for standing her up and agreed. He could have stayed home and masturbated, but then he would have missed out on having the blonde bombshell on the middle of her expensive Egyptian rug. Besides the hot sex, he liked that Selena wasn’t the marrying type. He certainly wouldn’t want his trailer hitched to a woman who spent enough on her wardrobe each month to end hunger in a third world country. She had no clue what charity meant unless it included a gala where she could get all dolled up and flash her bling.

The doors opened. He allowed the couple to step out first, then he followed, watching them tuck their arms around each other as they headed for the exit doors. He smiled, then turned down a narrow hall that led him straight into the small gift shop. He stopped at the threshold and glanced around at the glass shelves filled with sentimental products. His stomach lurched.

“Can I help you, sir? We have a sale on our selection of cards,” the silver-haired woman with bright red cheeks said from behind the counter. It was only natural that she would be bubbly.

He stepped up and gave her his best smile. “I’d like to get two flower bouquets.”

“Which would you like?” she asked. “We have carnations, roses, daffodils—”

“Colorful flowers, please.” He’d never interested himself in the different varieties. He wrote a check to the landscaper every week and that was the extent of his knowledge.

She narrowed her gaze as she stepped from the counter and went to a large carousel holding an array of bouquets. She grabbed two from the stand. “Will these do?” He nodded. “Two
colorful
bouquets. Is that it?”

He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, grabbed a hundred-dollar bill and laid it on the counter. A selection of glass animal figurines caught his attention. He remembered that his mom had collected similar pieces. “I’ll take the glass panda too.”

Once she rang up his total, she handed him the change and he stuck it into a charity box sitting next to the register and left the shop, bouquets tucked in one arm and the gift wrapped panda in the other. He sure hoped Avary Pine liked the glass figurine. If anything, it’d give her something to throw and break if the frustration became too much.

Stopping at the information desk, he found out that indeed, Miss Pine had been admitted into the hospital and, after the kind volunteer gave him the room number, he got back on the elevator and rode it to the third floor. Because he was following through with this deranged act didn’t mean he agreed with Angelina, but he’d get it over with and be on his way. He glanced at his watch. His sister had another hour before she would be finished with her treatment. The oncologist warned that she would be feeling lethargic, some pain, and more than likely stomach irritation. He’d hired a nurse, Sandy, and she would be at the house when they arrived back this afternoon.

Scanning the room number directions, he followed the corresponding hall looking for Avary Pine. He passed a nurse who smiled and batted her pretty eyes. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the gentle sway of her hips under the material of her blue scrubs.

Yeah, he needed a release soon.

Finding room 356, he started for the open door when the faint sound of sniffling stopped him dead.
What the hell?
He glanced into the dimly lit room, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust, and then he saw her. She was lying in the hospital bed, her back to him, covered in a thin, white blanket. Her shoulders were shaking and her gentle sobs were the only sound in the sanitary space. She looked so tiny, almost fragile, in the large bed that seemed to engulf her. Her long, blonde hair was spread over the pillow and the soft light over the sink caught the highlights making them shimmer like golden threads.

He stood there, holding the flowers, wanting to say something—knew he should—but he couldn’t seem to get his tongue to cooperate. His chest ached and his heart beat fast. He’d never been good in situations like this. One thing he couldn’t stand was seeing a woman cry, especially when there was nothing he could do to help. He didn’t know her, didn’t know if she’d think he was a stalker bearing gifts. After all, she’d been attacked only hours ago. His feet seemed glued to the floor and he couldn’t move.  Couldn’t wrap his brain around what he would say.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He about jumped out of his Burberry’s. He turned and standing behind him was a nurse, her brows snapped together in curiosity. It didn’t look suspicious at all with him standing in the door staring at the patient. “Can you see that she gets these?” He handed over one bouquet and the box, then hurried away.

By the time he was in the elevator, heading back to the lobby to wait on Angelina, he was able to get the thought of Avary Pine, lying in bed sobbing, out of his mind—some.

****

Two months later

“You’ve got to eat.”

Avary didn’t even look at her sister, but continued to stare at the white ceiling, counting the heavy paint strokes left over from a careless painter.

“You need to answer me,” Dawn persisted.

Realizing that her sister wouldn’t give up until she got some sort of reply, Avary lifted her chin. “I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask if you’re hungry. I said you need to eat.” There was a stubborn tilt to her sister’s chin. Dawn could cut someone down to size with her pensive stare if pushed to that point.

“Don’t worry about me, sis. I’m fine,” Avary mumbled.

“Looks like you are. When was the last time you took a shower?” Dawn sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

“That’s not me, thank you. That’s the lunch the nurse prepared. Who eats sauerkraut and sausage?”

“Your nurse does,” Dawn muttered. “I’ll make you a PB sandwich. Better yet, a Nutella and banana sandwich.”

“No. I’m not hungry, remember?” She sat up, leaning her back against the arm of the couch. A pain shot through her hand. It was covered in a thick bandage, hiding the red, angry-looking scar that she had to apply salve to every six hours.

“Your manager called again this morning. He wants to speak to you,” Dawn’s voice softened.

“I know. I’ve heard every message he’s left on my voicemail.”

“Then why don’t you call him back? He wants to talk to you about where you need to go from here, what’s best for you.”

Avary snickered. “That’s funny. He knows my hand is useless. I can’t hold a toothbrush with it, let alone a bow.” Her chest narrowed and she had a strong urge to cry, but she refused. She’d cried an ocean after the attack and she refused to allow another tear drop to leave her eyes.

“Doc said therapy will work, but you have to start. The sooner, the better. That’s why I made you an appointment. The office is in the hospital.”

“I think he
hopes
it’ll work,” she whispered.

Dawn sat on the end of the couch and patted Avary’s knee. “They caught the attacker and he’s behind bars. Now is the time to put the incident behind you. You’ll see, if you try, you’ll feel better. Sitting here day in and day out sulking isn’t helping.”

“What if you couldn’t work as a nurse? What if someone took that ability away from you?”

“You’re suggesting you’ve lost all hope of recovery, Avary. I remember all of the times you practiced until your fingers bled. Not once did I see a girl who gave up so easily. This isn’t you. Where is my feisty sister who worked her way into being the musician ‘who plays like an angel’?”

“She’s gone,” she said through tight lips. Overcome with the need to lash out with so many hateful words, Avary bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her sister didn’t deserve it, even if she didn’t understand. Why didn’t she see that Avary needed to be alone? Needed time to work through her emotions. Not only had the attacker robbed her of the use of her hand, but he had also taken away her security. “My show is starting soon and you’re blocking the TV.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Dawn stood. Crossing her arms over her waist, she jutted her chin. “Fine. Do what you’re going to do. One day you’ll realize how much of yourself you left in that dark alley that night.”

Not getting a response, Dawn finally left for work.

Avary looked at the closed door, listening to the low hum of the car engine as it pulled away from the street. The sun flowed through the window and glinted off the glass panda on the coffee table. Picking it up, she moved her fingers over the smooth, cool glass. She had no clue who left her the gift at the hospital, but she had kept it, an unexpected keepsake from a stranger. Maybe she had a guardian angel.

“Angel, if you’re really out there, please show me the way,” she whispered. “Please give me my hope back.”

CHAPTER ONE

Two years later

Trauma cannot be erased as some people might believe. It cannot be forgotten, bartered, or traded for happiness. It embeds itself into every pathway of the mind, and yet we’re expected to continue like all is okay. I seem to struggle with this—pretending. How did I let this happen? Could I have done something differently? When others push me to let go, I hold on tighter. Why can’t anyone understand? Why can’t I find anyone who understands me?

“Aren’t you supposed to be someplace, Avary?”

She jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice, leaving a jagged pen line down the page inside of her journal. “You scared me, Dawn.” Avary dropped her pen and pushed her glasses further up on her nose.

Dawn stepped from the doorway into the bedroom, her skeptical eye going to the packed suitcase sitting on the floor. “Did you see I packed for you?”

“I’m capable of packing for myself.” Avary didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but her sister had gotten too used to being a motherly figure. At twenty-five, Avary could take care of herself.

“Yeah, I know that, but I thought you’d use that as an excuse not to go.” Dawn was wearing her bright pink scrubs and her long hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her look older than thirty. She’d recently switched from working in a nursing home to the hospital’s intensive care unit.

“No excuses, remember?” There were moments Avary wondered if she too should have followed a career in helping others instead of following her childhood dream in becoming a world-renowned musician. She felt that somehow her choice was unrealistic, rather than being logical. Dawn’s shoulders were weighed from watching over Avary with sisterly love, or obligation. It could go either way at this point, no matter how much Dawn denied the truth that her life wasn’t on hold. Since the attack, Avary had lived with her sister in the small two-bedroom home. Certain days, the place felt like a tuna can.

“Oh, I remember. But do you?”

No sense in denying my feelings.
“I’m not sure this is a great idea.” She closed up her journal and dropped it into her purse.

Dawn’s frown deepened. One of her lectures was building, Avary could see it in the scrunching of brows and thin lips “You’re talking as if you have a choice.”

Avary stood up and smoothed her palms down her shirt. “What man hires a cellist to play privately for him?”

“The rich kind,” Dawn tapped the toe of her clog on the floor.

“How do we know that he isn’t hiring me for sexual favors?” Yeah, it was a far reach, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Victor Knight owns one of the finest vineyards along the east coast. His picture has been on every entertainment magazine, as well as every local newspaper over the last few years. He’s known for helping charities for children, abused women, and cancer patients. In fact, he just funded a gala to raise money for the oncology ward at the hospital. I’m assuming if he wanted a lady of the evening he would have called the beautiful model he had on his arm at the event—the one who seemed pretty infatuated with him.”

Avary blinked. “Am I his current charity case?”

Dawn stepped over and gave Avary a squeeze around the shoulders. “Sis, you know what I mean. What’s it been? Three years?”

“Dating or playing in public?”

“Both.” Dawn sighed. “You’ve hidden behind these walls long enough. You pride yourself in dressing down because you don’t want anyone’s attention. Anyone who knows you would understand you’re not the ‘putting out’ type. So no, I don’t think Mr. Knight is asking for sexual favors, and neither do you.”

“The letter stated that he wants me to play for him tomorrow night. Me? It all seems so, well, strange.”

“The letter also said that he is a fan of yours.” Dawn smiled.

“Not exactly. He said my talent was admired by many.
Was
being the operative word in that sentence.”

“Sweetheart, you play better than ever.”

“Or so my teachers all say so.”

Dawn kissed her on the cheek. “And they are telling the truth. I hear you through the walls.”

“My music isn’t the only thing passing through the walls.” Avary wagged her brows.

“What are you saying?” Dawn’s cheeks flushed.

“Doug has been staying here more and more. Seems like things are going pretty well between you two, that is unless I’m reading more into the heavy panting and groans than what’s really there.”

Dawn brought her hand to her chest. “You’re bad.”

“Just because I haven’t experienced it for myself, doesn’t mean I don’t know when it’s good. Doug definitely has your number, sis.”

“He’s amazing. And see what you’re missing out on?”

“Really? I don’t see that I’m missing out on anything and there’s no one out there who feels they are missing out either, not when it comes to me.”

“Don’t be silly. You had lots of lusty-eyed men after you until—” Dawn’s eyes grew wide as if she walked herself into a corner.

Avary swallowed against the constriction in her throat. “Finish it. You meant to say until the attack. Dr. Darringer told us we had to stop doing that, dancing around the past.” She looked down at the red, puffy scar on her wrist and pulled her shirt sleeve down to cover it. Her therapist had also told her that she should start wearing short-sleeves again. The wound should be looked at as a scar of survival, not an impairment.
One step at a time.

“Okay then. You had a lot of interested men before the attack, but you couldn’t see any of them past your first love—the cello. Unfortunately, it doesn’t keep you warm at night. Now, how are you supposed to meet anyone while hiding out here every weekend? Your vajay-jay is going to grow shut.”

“No, tell me how you really feel, sis.” Avary chuckled. “Anyway, that’s not possible.”

“That you had interested men?”

“That a woman’s parts can grow shut.”

“You’re not a nun, sweetie. You’re a beautiful, young woman who can and should show a man how incredibly passionate you are with something besides your instrument.”

“Let’s not get carried away. I’m your sister and you see me in a different way than I actually am.”

Dawn took her by the shoulders and turned Avary to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “Look at you.”

“I’m looking,” she moaned.

“Let’s do this.” Dawn pulled off Avary’s wide-framed glasses, then tugged the elastic band from her hair. Her long, thick hair fell to her shoulders. “You have amazing blue eyes. Your skin is flawless. And those breasts. How in the hell did you end up with perky size C’s and I have these?” Dawn patted her chest. “I don’t even need a bra.”

“Said she who had all the boys falling at her feet in school.”

“Why don’t you let me fix your hair and do your makeup before you go?”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Avary stared at her reflection and cringed. Her hair had a mind of its own and it bordered on psychotic. Her blonde hair with a hint of red was both a reward and a curse. It was her natural color and the waves weren’t established with a curling iron. On rainy days it tended to take on a frizzy, wild appearance, and today it was pouring outside. She picked up the brush and attempted to tame the tresses. “I can’t believe I’m being subjected to this craziness.”

“You should stay positive. You haven’t played in public for a long time, honey, and it’s an honor that Victor Knight sent you a personal letter asking for you to play for him.”

Avary dropped the brush to the vanity top and scowled. “Maybe put that pony tail back in?”

“Sit, my love. Allow me to take over.” Dawn pushed on Avary’s shoulders and she reluctantly sat down on the bench at the vanity. She didn’t look forward to being dolled up, but because she wanted to be near her sister and please her, Avary could handle being in the hot seat. They didn’t get to spend as much time together since Dawn started working longer hours. Although she’d never said the words, Avary had a feeling the overtime was mainly because Dawn was helping support them both.

This was the reason why Avary wouldn’t back down from taking this short playing gig.

“After I’m done, you’re going to turn heads, especially a sexy businessman with eyes the color of…”

“An ocean after a storm,” Avary finished.

“So you did notice.” Dawn poured a pea-sized amount of crème into her palm and rubbed it over Avary’s hair.

“Please keep in mind that I’m not comfortable with all of this—dressing up and wearing make-up.” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t had to in a long time.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s obvious by the flowered shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you raided mom’s closet.”

Avary picked up a tube of lipstick and tossed it at her sister, who deftly dodged the bullet. She clicked on the large barrel curling iron. “Actually, I raided
your
closet.”

Dawn fingered the wispy fabric, her nose wrinkling. “Really? I need to get rid of some things. No worries. We’ll tame this wild mess with a few soft curls framing your face and he won’t even notice what you’re wearing.”

“Wow, you’re just full off compliments today.” Avary relaxed back in the chair and let her sister start styling. “I’m going there to play my cello, not play with the host.”

“Yeah, but just like Julia Roberts’s character in that classical movie, she was only hired for a short time, but look what happened.”

“Sis, let’s get some facts straight. Her character was a prostitute. I’m certainly not gorgeous Julia Roberts, and won’t even be when you’re finished here. And it’s a fairytale. Life is not an enchanted story.”

“Wonder what he’s like?”

“Rich. Narcissistic. Led by money.”

Dawn snorted. “Aren’t you just the prejudiced one? That’s an unfair judgement without as much as meeting the man.”

Avary watched through the mirror. At times, she wondered how she was Dawn’s biological sister. She had perfect mahogany hair and beautiful full lips. Avary had crazy, pale hair and lips that were too thin. The only part of her appearance she couldn’t complain about was her blue eyes that her father used to say competed with the clearest sky. These days, she hid them behind large reading glasses. Just like everything else, she was hiding behind baggy clothes and the four walls of her house. “It’s not my worry what he’s like.”

“I’d say he’s tall, sexy, and dripping with virility.”

“Those are all physical traits. Any thoughts personality wise?”

Dawn chuckled. “Personality? Who cares? You’ve seen the picture on the internet where he was playing tennis with Selena Banks, the French model. I could bounce a coin off his tight ass.”

Avary felt her cheeks flame. “My thoughts haven’t even crossed that path. I’ve only read that he hasn’t given an interview in years and has shut down the vineyard from tourists.” She still couldn’t believe that she’d said yes to traveling two hundred miles to the Knight Estate for a weekend. She didn’t want to admit it openly, but she’d done her research on the enigmatic Mr. Victor Truman Knight, and she was impressed. He was born thirty-three years ago, attended Wharton where he graduated top of his class, and when his father died unexpectedly, Victor took over as CEO of the family vineyard and winery which was the finest vineyard along the coast. He was known for being an exceptional entrepreneur who’d almost tripled the Knight wealth in a short period of time. Avary had also dipped into the juicy details of his personal life, only because she needed to know a little about the stranger who invited her to his mansion. He’d never been married. Had no kids. Yet, there were plenty of pictures floating around of him with beautiful, sexy women, especially with the French model Dawn had mentioned. He was a playboy. The very idea made her stomach turn. Just what the world needed. “I’ve also read that he’s a multi-millionaire.”

“You say that with disgust.” Dawn clicked her tongue. “Nothing wrong with a man who has money.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Avary, remember, you need this job. Certainly Victor Knight’s bank account isn’t suffering, but yours is. Not to mention, you play the cello like an angel. It’s time to show the world that you’re better than ever. This is the first step back into the career you’ve longed for.”

“I’ve tried…and I still am.” Her gaze automatically fell to her wounded hand. “You know this wasn’t my choice.” Avary’s throat ached.

“Doc said the scarring will continue to get better with time. Look how much the skin has healed so far. And I did pack the ointment so don’t forget to rub it on nightly to keep the skin moist.”

Avary followed the deep red line from the inside of her middle finger, along her palm until it disappeared into the sleeve. Her mind traveled back to that evening when she’d walked out of the theater. It had been late and everyone had left. She didn’t have any clue that one moment in time would change her life. As she made her way to her car, the rain had sounded loud pelting the rooftops and cement. The masked man came out of the shadows, wielding a knife with a shaking hand, demanding she give him everything. She’d handed over her purse, expecting him to leave her alone, but then he’d reached for her cello case. Without thought, she’d put up a struggle, ending with him slicing her right hand and she’d had no choice but to let go of the case. He’d run away, leaving her in a puddle of blood until her screams were overheard by the theater janitor who called for an ambulance.