Perfect timing.

Had to be a sign she was doing the right thing.

Wasn’t it?

For once her subconscious was quiet.

CHAPTER THIRTY

KNOX woke up with a killer fucking hangover the next morning.

Jesus. Fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d downed a fifth of scotch. A guy his size could hold his liquor and then some.

But he hadn’t held it very well last night. He’d blown chunks. Twice.

Took a ton of effort to slide to the side of the bed and sit up. His head and his stomach both protested. It even fucking hurt to scrub his hands over his face.

You’re in bad shape.

No shit.

He had no clue how long he sat there with his head in his hands. Thinking about what’d gone down yesterday added to his screaming-ass headache.

Demoted.

He’d been in a state of agitation since Ronin had returned. He could deal with Sensei’s questions about the dojo because it wasn’t like he hadn’t run through every damn scenario prior to the king reclaiming his kingdom. While he’d been grateful for the commiserating looks from his fellow instructors, Knox was a big boy. He could take the heat.

He just hadn’t expected to get fucking burned.

First thing yesterday morning Ronin admitted hiring Maddox to head up the MMA program had been a great decision, so Knox had gotten props for that.

Then Maddox addressed the issue of space. He required a dedicated training area, not a corner of the workout room. The one good thing about the last facility he’d worked in was the private training area. No one could just walk in and watch or interrupt. He also found having the business offices and the conference room on the same floor as the training room distracting.

Ronin hadn’t disagreed. So he’d brought Knox, Maddox, Blue, Deacon, and Gil into the discussion of how to reorganize the layouts of the rooms on all three floors to make the most use of them. When Maddox asked what businesses were on the other floors in the building, Ronin admitted he wasn’t allowing the businesses on the fourth floor to renew their leases and the fifth and sixth levels were his personal space.

At that point Knox had a burst of pride in Black Arts because Ronin had achieved his years-long goal of having the entire building dedicated to his business.

For the time being, until the fourth floor had been cleared, MMA training would take place on the third floor, which belonged to ABC.

So Knox had been feeling good when Ronin asked him to his office. He expected they’d hash out the details of scheduling. Nothing had tripped his alarms. He made himself comfy in the chair across from Ronin’s desk and tried like hell not to focus on the time he’d bent Shiori over said desk and fucked her with enough force to bruise her hips.

When he’d looked up to see Ronin fiddling with the stapler, his first suspicion all wasn’t right had kicked in. Master Black wasn’t a fiddler. Unless he was nervous.

Knox decided to break the ice first. “What’s up?”

“As you know, we’re aligned with the House of Kenji now. In addition to being tested, I had to send staff stats and all that bullshit paperwork that no one ever looks at.” He paused. “Except they did.”

“And?”

Ronin seemed torn, disgruntled, and nervous.

“Just tell me.”

“Master Daichi never cared about dojo politics, which is why we got along so well. But House of Kenji has strict ‘guidelines.’ They’re really ironclad rules. And since I’m new, I’ve been advised to adhere to them, even when it makes me fucking crazy.”

Knox slumped in his chair. “I ain’t gonna like this, am I?”

“No. You won’t. Bottom line? Shiori outranks you . . . according to the Japanese belt system. In my opinion, that system has always placed students higher than their skill level indicates. For instance, eighth-degree black belt is a high rank for my age. I imagine if I’d continued in American jujitsu, I’d be ranked about seventh degree.”

Breathe . . . Just listen.

“Shiori is Rokudan. Taking her belt system into account, I’ve always considered her Godan—on par with you. You’ve been here longer so you have the experience, which is why I never made the official title switch between you. I didn’t bring it up with Master Daichi because he’d never put a woman as Shihan.” Ronin looked away. “But the House of Kenji doesn’t agree. Their third-highest-ranking belt—”

“Is a woman,” Knox finished.

Ronin nodded. “So as of right now, I’m naming Shiori Shihan.”