15. Knox

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Knox

He’s a fucking nuisance.

I can’t keep Elton Hill out of my fucking head, and it’s irritating the shit out of me.

It’s not like I’m actively trying to think of him; he’s just everywhere. I know all of us at XO spend way too much time at our jobs, but he, like, lives here or something. Every time I walk through the door to start my shift, he’s there, sitting at the bar and talking to Rhys, or in a corner booth, rifling through paperwork, or coming out of the bathroom every time I have to take a damn piss.

It’s also impossible to ignore the way everyone hovers over him, like Elton’s the sun they revolve around. He constantly has people trying to talk to him, whether it’s Skylar begging him to try his new drinks, or him and Cassius, of all people, making plans to hang out. It’s annoying how well-liked he is.

I wasn’t upset that I wasn’t invited to their little outing last week. Even if Cassius had given me a ticket—like he gave every other fucking person—I would have said no. The music he’s into is trash and I had better things to do. Okay, well, I did end up at the festival anyway…but that’s not the point. I don’t need anybody trying to give me pity tickets or be friends with me when they all end up being the same. Just like with how they all gravitate to Elton. They don’t actually want to be friends with him; it’s all about what he can give them. He’s even more loaded than I am, so I’m sure that’s the reason everyone’s chomping at the bit to be his best friend. Forget about the fact that he’s nice and smart and hot?—

Shaking my head, I stop myself from going down that particular rabbit hole that’ll lead me nowhere. I already decided that even though my brain and dick keep fixating on Elton Hill, I will not. There are plenty of guys I can fuck to get Everest out of my system, so I don’t need to put in all the work of having Elton be the one.

But, of course, I can’t catch a break. Elton comes out of one of the corner booths, the lights we keep on before we open showcasing just how good he looks in that fucking suit he insists on wearing. I bite down on my lip ring as he stretches his arms over his head, his muscles flexing underneath the cotton, his thick thighs tensing and then relaxing as he starts to walk.

I swear I don’t purposefully stick out my foot so he trips a little, just to get his attention.

“Shit! Sorry, I—” When he sees it’s me, the humor in his face drains and is replaced with annoyance. “Oh, it’s you.”

His response stings for some reason, but I cover that up with a snort. “Elton.”

“Did you stop me for some reason?” he asks, cocking his head as he holds up some papers. “I have work to do.”

Shit. Did I need him for something? No, I was just trying to fuck with him. Still, I find myself speaking before I can think better of it. “What are you working on?”

His dark green eyes widen in shock at my words. He blinks at me repeatedly, then narrows his gaze in suspicion. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I say quickly. Clearing my throat, I settle myself against the bar in an attempt to look… Please, tell me I’m not trying to look cool for Elton Hill.

He stares at me for a beat before relaxing, smiling widely as he shakes his head. “Okay, I guess. You might actually be able to help me. Skylar gave me these reports last week, and I’ve been trying to put some statistics together for what nights need more marketing, but I’m confused.”

I snort. “The big numbers make your head hurt, babe?”

“Oh, screw you,” he mutters. “I’ll just go talk to Davis about this before we open.”

I step in front of him, not ready to let this be over, and take the papers from his hand. “Don’t be sensitive. I know you were on the honor roll in school.”

He raises both eyebrows. “You do?”

Fuck. What’s wrong with me today? I shouldn’t know that. I don’t care.

I breathe through my confused state and look at the papers that Skylar gave him, immediately wanting to slap said bartender across the mouth. “He just gave you these? What exactly did you ask for?”

Elton shrugs. “I just asked if he had any reports that would help me figure out which nights could use some more attention from a marketing perspective. Why? Did he give me the wrong thing?”

Yes. Absolutely, one hundred percent yes.

Because I’m currently looking at copies of our books. Pages and pages of different numbers that I know for a fact have been force balanced and manipulated by a very special kind of accountant. As head bartender, Rhys might not know exactly what’s on these pages, but he’s sure to have been given very specific instructions to keep them safe. Skylar must have stumbled upon them when Elton asked him for reports, not realizing what exactly he made photocopies of.

“Yeah, they’re weird, right?” Elton continues, not reading the room and sensing my stillness for what it is. “It says that we make the most money on Sundays, but that’s when the least amount of people come in. I figure it must be some sort of mistake. Davis should be able to?—”

“Don’t go to Davis!” I snap, loudly, eyes widening at the completely idiotic decision he came to. “Fuck, don’t go to Davis.”

Slowly raising his hands up in surrender, he takes a step back at my outburst. “Um, okay? Don’t you think this is something he needs to know about?”

“Yes, but…” I lick my lips, trying to come up with some sort of lie that’ll keep him away from Davis. “He doesn’t like to be interrupted.”

That’s not a complete lie. Davis likes summoning his employees, not the other way around, and he usually has Butch schedule all his meetings. That lie has to be enough to keep Elton and this information away from Davis, at least until I can find the nearest shredder upstairs and take care of it.

Just like he would take care of Elton if he found out he knew the club was laundering money.

“Knox, are you okay?” he asks and takes a step forward. “You got all pale there. Are you—” He cuts himself off with a gasp. “Holy shit. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”

“What?” I bark, shaking my head as I subtly put the papers in my back pocket. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re worried that if I talk to Davis, it’ll put me on the boss’s bad side.”

Suuuuure, let’s put it that way.

“I just don’t think he needs to be bothered by this. I’ll show it to Butch and he’ll schedule a meeting with you if he thinks it’s important.”

He nods. “Okay. Let me go talk to Butch, then?—”

“No!” Fuck, I really need to stop shouting. I cough, clearing my throat as I shake my head. “I need to talk to him anyway. I’ll stop by for you.”

“You’re being awfully nice,” he muses, brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I just…”

Fuck.

Anything.

Say anything .

“I want to apologize.”

Well, fuck. I didn’t realize it’d be that .

It looks like Elton didn’t either because he rears his head back in shock. “You’re…what?”

“Sorry.” I continue, despite my brain telling me to shut the fuck up and abort. “Sorry I was being an ass that night at my apartment.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocks out a hip as he gestures for me to go on. “Be specific.”

I grit my teeth. Damn, fake apologizing is a lot of work. Thinking back to that night, I said a lot of shit that seems worthy of an apology, so I start with the most blanket one. “I’m sorry I was such a dick that night.”

He nods. “So you admit my first time should be special?”

“The fuck? I didn’t say that.”

“You’re also apologizing for not telling me you’re hung up on someone else.”

“Elton—”

“No, wait. I see now. You’re saying you’re sorry about all that and you agree to try to be friends.”

Friends? Seriously? How old is he? I go to tell him that he can go fuck himself, but I stop. Maybe this is more about what he needs than what I do. If he needs to lie to himself and call us friends in order to fuck around with me, who am I to ruin that fantasy? I don’t actually have to like him or be his friend to dial back the asshole-ness a bit.

Elton’s hot, Elton’s freaky, and Elton’s available. I can be…nice.

“Fine,” I say, chuckling at the look of ridiculous victory on his face. “You win. Can we keep hooking up, now that I’ve said all of that?”

“Well, you didn’t technically say it?—”

“ Elton. ”

“Yes, yes,” he rushes out, smiling too damn wide, golden retriever energy in full bloom. “Since we’re friends now, how about you come to my place tonight? I’ll order us some takeout, and then we can…”

To his flushed cheeks, I smirk. “Is that what it’ll take to get into your pants, babe? Some takeout and conversation?”

“Apparently, I’m easy.” He punches my shoulder gently. “Hey, thanks, man. For taking care of all that stuff for me. Davis can be kind of scary.”

He has no idea.

“No problem. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over,” I say, stepping back when it looks like he wants to hug it out. “Nope. Gotta go.”

He laughs as I practically rush up the stairs. But instead of taking a left to Davis’s office, I turn right to an empty room. I go in and shut the door behind me, making sure it’s locked before fishing the papers from my back pocket. I start up the shredder, somehow sweating as I get rid of the evidence.

Surprised I’m this terrified about what could have happened if I hadn’t tripped Elton.