Knight (Unfinished Hero #1)(14)

Right, so Sandrine was a pain in the ass. But there were times that pain eased.

I put the phone in its charger and immediately began multitasking. Freaking out about Knight’s possible activities at the same time putting away groceries. Then I freaked out at the same time I made a sandwich. Then I freaked out at the same time I ate my sandwich and changed clothes. Then I freaked out as I walked out to my car and continued to freak out as I drove to class.

And luckily I’d freaked out enough that by the time I hit class I could set it aside and concentrate.

Unfortunately, by the time I got home from class, I was back to freaking out. Which meant I found it hard to sleep.

And it further meant when I finally slept, my dreams were filled with Knight.

* * * * *

The next evening, I had little time. I had a client, she was showing at my house at her six thirty slot and I had to be home and set up in time. But I also had to do what I had to do.

And I was going to do it.

It was after work. I had a full-time job as a file clerk in a medical office that had six doctors and four nurse practitioners. I made shit money but the job wasn’t taxing, the office ladies were funny and they had excellent benefits. These included kick-butt insurance and, if you worked there for two years, partial payment on any further education you wanted to take even if it was beauty school.

And beauty school was where I decided to go so, three years ago, I went. I’d already completed my nail technician certification and was building a clientele whose appointments I had to take in the evenings and on weekends. The goal was to have enough to go full-time therefore be able to rent a station in a decent salon. This was difficult, what with a job and school, but I was doing it.

Since, I’d finished classes in applying makeup and now I was close to completing a course to be a certified skin technician. I liked nails and I liked chattering to my clients. It was cool, seriously low stress and it actually paid pretty well. But I knew that I’d lose my mind sitting around doing nails forty hours a week so I had to diversify.

That was why I took classes to be a makeup artist and was close to completing my course as a skin technician. I liked doing facials the best. It was the quiet. It wasn’t only relaxing to the client but also me. And I liked the bright but tranquil look my test subjects gave me when I was done. Not only was I making their skin look great, I was making them feel good. And that was cool.

But this wasn’t my life’s dream. In fact, I didn’t have a life’s dream. I’d learned that living a dream, finding a dream or having a dream find me was not in my future and I’d learned this early.

That said, I was ambitious.

I didn’t want to rule the world.

I wanted to own my own spa.

A good one that was all about relaxation, pampering and beautification in a peaceful, safe, gorgeous setting. Maybe up in the mountains somewhere. It would look good. It would smell good. And it would be a treat for anyone who opened the doors and walked in.

Including me.

So I had a plan. Nails, makeup and facials down (nearly), building up a clientele as I went along and finding a salon or spa that would rent me space or take me on as an employee in the meantime. Then move onto the whopper deluxe, massage therapy. I was doing all this while saving to open my own place. Living frugal. Being smart. Getting educated. Building a clientele and providing excellent service to keep them so whenever I moved and when I settled, they’d follow me.

Then be my own boss and that boss was the boss of indulgence.

How freaking awesome would that be?

Perfect. With my life, facing the rest of it filled with offering tranquility and indulgence was perfect for me.

This was on my mind instead of what I didn’t want to be on my mind as I found a spot somewhat close to the front doors to the high-rise complex. It took me three attempts before I did a terrible job at parallel parking my car. It didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be there long. I got out, fed a nickel into the meter which gave me a nanosecond (not really) but enough time to do what I needed to do.

Then I dashed into the building and went to the doorman’s desk.

When we were there on Saturday, there was no doorman on duty which meant day and evening hours. But the door had been locked (as it now wasn’t) and we’d had to buzz up. However, I’d seen the desk so I’d hoped it had someone behind it sometime and luckily I was right.

I smiled at him and he smiled at me as I walked up to him.

Then I stopped at the desk, put the taped down, bubble wrap envelope on it and asked, “Can I leave that and you’ll give it to Knight, I think his last name is Sebring, in apartment 15A?”

His brows went up. “Mr. Sebring? Unit 15A? Sure,” he replied. “But you want, I can call up. See if he’s here.”

His hand was drifting to the phone so I lifted mine swiftly and shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m in a rush and he needs that but I have to dash. Can you just make sure he gets it?”

He nodded again. “Sure.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

He smiled back.

I skedaddled.

Right, that down, point made, note written, Thanks, Knight. That’s very kind and generous but I can’t accept. Be well, Anya.

And that was it. The end.

The end.

I drove home thinking of the end of Knight Sebring at the same time wishing, with what I knew was sheer lunacy and I didn’t get it at all, was that it was the beginning.