Chapter 7 #2
With a frown, I walk over to check it. Anger claws at me when I see that number again. The number from Knox’s people. Or him.
How dare they call at this time of night. And on a Sunday?
Jesus, it’s almost eleven o’clock. Surely, they have some code of decency. Most people I know wouldn’t call anyone on a Sunday, let alone at this hour when I could be sleeping.
Standing my ground, I watch the home screen until the call times out and the missed-call notification pops up. For a second, I think about messaging back to say I’ll call in the morning. But I think better of it. Best not to engage.
If I message and it’s Knox, I’ll end up in some conversation I don’t want.
I put the phone down and tell myself I’ll ignore any more calls if they come through.
And they do. Another call comes in five minutes later. Then ten minutes after that.
I ignore both and start my bath.
But I can’t ignore the knock on the door.
My heartbeat slows, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.
God. That can’t be anyone I know. Mom and Mia both have keys, and neither of them would turn up an hour before midnight knocking like that.
Unless something happened.
But what if it didn’t, and it’s Knox’s people?
Three sharp raps cut through the silence, and I know, whoever this is, they’re not going away.
I switch off the tap and make my way into the living room, creeping up to the door to peer through the peephole.
Everything inside me plummets.
Knox!
My God. He’s here, standing on the other side of the door.
Shit.
Through the peephole, I blink once, then twice, just to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
I’m definitely not.
Knox Vale stands there wearing a black biker jacket instead of one of his expensive suits.
The rugged look shouldn’t work on him, but of course it does.
His inky black hair is tousled, shadow dusting his jaw, and he looks more like a drifter who just rolled in from trouble than the cold, polished investor who wrecked my life.
A muscle jumps in my jaw as I step back from the door.
I’m not doing this. No. Absolutely not.
I press my back against the wall, heart thudding so loudly I can feel it in my throat.
If I ignore him, maybe he’ll go away. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I’m not interested in whatever his royal high-handedness has to say.
Another knock sounds. Harder this time. So hard, the sound ricochets through the apartment. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, please go away.
Then I hear it. The faint, unmistakable click of metal against metal.
My breath catches.
Oh my God.
I’ve hung around Mia and her crazy-ass friends long enough to know what that sound is.
He’s picking the lock!
My stomach flips as the soft scrape continues.
No. No, no, no. This is absolutely not happening. But it is. He’s actually breaking in.
The deadbolt gives a sharp metallic click, and I jerk away from the wall, my pulse racing so fast it blurs my thoughts.
The latch turns, and the door eases open an inch, then two, spilling a slice of hallway light across the floor.
Knox steps inside like he owns the place. In those clothes, he looks like he could set the world on fire. The scathing glare he gives me would set me on fire, too, if it could.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” I shout, my voice shaking more from adrenaline than fear. “You can’t just—”
“So, you’re alive, then?” he snaps, baring his teeth like a feral animal.
Every nerve in my body screams at me to back up, but I hold my ground. “What? Of course, I’m alive.”
“For all I know, you could have been lying dead in here. Or hurt.” For a moment, he actually looks like he believes that, but the expression is gone before it even had a chance to settle.
“Clearly, I’m fine.”
“My assistant called you three times tonight,” he bites out. “Three. And that’s just tonight. She’s been trying to reach you since yesterday. You ignored every single call.”
“I was busy.” My voice is thin with indignation.
“Busy?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just sarcasm and disbelief. “Doing what, Isla? Pretending this contract doesn’t exist?”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“Then answer the goddamn phone when my people call you!” His words hit like a whip, echoing off the walls.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. He’s never raised his voice before.
Not like this. But what do I know about him in real life?
This is my third encounter with him. Everything else I know is from what I read online.
He could be a raging lunatic. Still, I can’t allow him to shout at me like I’m a child.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I shoot back, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “Your people had from Wednesday to contact me, and they didn’t. I’m entitled to—”
“Nothing.” He steps closer. Too close. So close the scent of leather and clean soap tangles in the air between us. “You’re not entitled to a goddam thing.”
He’s right. It just hurts to hear him say it.
I cross my arms, lifting my chin to hide the tremor in my hands. “You broke into my apartment, Knox. That’s literally illegal.”
His eyes meet mine with infuriating confidence. “You think I give a damn about legal right now?”
No. Why would he? Men like him are above the law. “What are you doing here?”
“Finally, she asks the right question.” He sneers. “If you’d bothered to answer any of those calls, you’d know I wanted you moved in by yesterday.”
My eyes bulge. “What? Moved in? Yesterday?”
“Yes. I’m in L.A. on business tomorrow for a few days, so I need you moved into my home.”
Moved into his home. As in I’d have to say goodbye to my place.
I thought it would happen soon, but not as soon as yesterday. “That’s rather sudden, don’t you think? I only signed the contract on Wednesday.”
“I work fast. So, let’s go.” He cocks his head toward the door.
I stare at him, not quite understanding. “Go?”
“Yes. We’re leaving this shithole now.” His frown deepens when he looks around the place. “Seriously, this is where you live?” He pins me with one look. One that strips me bare and makes me want to throw something at him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my place.”
“Everything is wrong with it. And, we’re deep in the roughest end of the city. The bad part of the bad part of town.”
“Say whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere with you.” This is outrageous. And this man is impossible.
“Yes, you are. Remember the contract?”
“Where did it say I have to go off with you in the middle of the night on a whim’s notice?”
“Page eight, clause fifty, subsection 4.1.1.—Personal Availability.” He recites it like scripture.
“The Contracted Party agrees to maintain reasonable availability for public and private appearances as requested by the Principal—a.k.a. me—including but not limited to social events, business functions, and matters of personal discretion. The Contracted Party shall respond promptly to any summons or communication issued by the Principal or his authorized representatives, irrespective of time or location, unless prevented by verified medical emergency or prior written exemption.”
Holy shit.
He actually memorized the damn thing. Is this how it’s going to be? Every time I breathe wrong, he’ll throw a clause in my face?
What should I do? I don’t want to leave now or go with him.
“I’ll sort my stuff out tomorrow and—”
“No.”
I step back, shaking my head. “This is ridiculous and entirely unreasonable.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I need time.”
His jaw flexes, eyes cutting through me like frost. “If you’d answered the phone, you would have had time. Now you won’t encroach on mine.”
Damn it. I’m losing this battle. Badly. “I have to pack my things. And my… art.”
My eyes flick to the canvas, and so do his. For a second, something shifts. Surprise flickers in his expression, genuine and unguarded.
When his gaze returns to me, it’s changed. He looks at me the way people do when they’ve underestimated me and realize they were wrong. But he doesn’t say a word about the painting.
The hardness returns to his eyes, and his jaw clenches. “We’re leaving now, Isla, whether you’re ready or not.”
“I need to pack my things.”
“My people can pack those for you.”
“Come back tomorrow.”
He hisses at me. I take a step back, and he moves, too.
“Knox.”
“Isla.”
“You need to go home.” I keep walking backward, because I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Or walking toward me. Fast.
One second, he’s across the room; the next, he’s in front of me. My pulse stutters as I sense what’s coming next.
I spin toward the hallway, planning to bolt for my bedroom, but his arm hooks around my waist before I make it two steps.
A startled gasp tears from my throat as my feet leave the ground.
“Knox!” I shout, pounding my fists against his back. “Put me down!”
He doesn’t. He hoists me higher, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. My breath rushes out in disbelief as his hand clamps around the back of my thighs to steady me.
“You’re insane!”
“Maybe.” His voice is rough near my ear. “But we’re still leaving.”
I twist, kick, anything to get free, but all it does is make his grip tighten. The bastard doesn’t even flinch.
To my absolute horror, he marches straight out the door with me, pausing only long enough to shut it behind him.
Then we’re moving down the hallway and into the elevator car like this is the most normal thing in the world.
The doors slide shut, sealing us in. The quiet hum of the elevator fills the space, a soft, mechanical whir that makes my pulse sound even louder in my ears.
“Put me down. This is kidnapping.” I brace my hands against his back.
“It’s called enforcement,” he says, like we’re discussing a meeting agenda.
“You can’t just take me out of my home.”
“Clause fifty,” he cuts in smoothly.
My jaw tightens. “You’re a psychopath.”
“You signed the paperwork,” he reminds me, unbothered.
The elevator dings softly as it stops on the ground floor.
The doors slide open, releasing a wave of city air—oil, smoke, and the faint stench of rain-soaked garbage seeping in from outside.
The tiny lobby is half-lit, its cracked tiles glistening under a buzzing fluorescent bulb.
Although I wriggle against his shoulder, still trying to break free, Knox doesn’t slow. He marches straight across the lobby, pushing through the glass doors and out into the night while still carrying me like a damn sack of flour.
“Knox!” I hiss, twisting against him. “Put me down!”
“Not a chance.”
He shifts me higher on his shoulder, then presses down on my thigh again, and I accept defeat. It would take the Hulk, or some kind of superpower, to pry myself out of his grasp.
The night outside is all noise and neon. Streetlights flicker over the cracked pavement, a siren wails somewhere in the distance, and then he stops.
I twist, trying to see what made him pause, and my stomach drops.
A motorcycle waits under the flickering streetlight. Black, sleek, and gleaming like something straight out of John Wick. It looks fast enough to outrun reason itself and dangerous enough to eat the night alive.
There’s no way that’s his.
Knox Vale on a motorcycle?
But then he sets me on my feet right beside the bike.
“This is yours?” I look from him to the machine, my jaw slack.
“Yes.”
“You ride a motorcycle?”
Knox smirks as he reaches for the helmet hanging off the handlebar. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“I thought your driver took you everywhere.”
He cuts me a hard stare. “Clearly, he doesn’t. I collect motorcycles. This is the latest addition.” He lifts the helmet toward me. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not getting on that thing with you.” I shake my head, defiant.
“Well, we’re not walking all the way to the Hamptons.”
“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle with someone I don’t trust.”
He doesn’t even flinch at my remark. “Good thing you don’t have to trust me. You just have to hold on.”
“This is crazy.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Before I can step back, he shrugs out of his jacket and catches my arm, pulling me closer.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to put this on,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”
It’s already cold. All I’m wearing is the loose, paint-stained shirt I use when I’m working and a pair of yoga pants.
He drapes the jacket over my shoulders and guides my arms into the sleeves. The leather is warm from his body, heavy with smoke, cedar, and something darker that shouldn’t make my pulse jump the way it does. It smells like him.
He slides the helmet over my head next.
I gasp. “You’re going to ride without a helmet?”
“I’ll be fine.” His gaze locks on mine. “You, not so much.”
“I don’t understand why this can’t wait until tomorrow.”
His fingers brush my jaw as he secures the helmet’s strap beneath my chin. “It can’t wait. And it won’t. Now drop it.”
The world narrows to the sound of the buckle snapping into place and the steady drag of his breath close to my ear. Then he steps back, pulls out a pair of dark shades from his pocket, and slips them on.
With effortless grace, he swings a leg over the bike and sits.
“Get on and hold on tight.” He starts the engine. The low growl vibrates through the night, and through me.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I hesitate beside the bike, staring at the space behind him like it’s a trap.
The engine’s low growl pulses through the pavement, steady and relentless, just like him.
How did I go from running a bath and planning to unwind with a glass of wine to this?
I want to run, or damn it, scream from all the frustration. But what good would it do?
This is happening. And if I fight it now, it’ll only make things worse.
Worse for me.
“Get on, Isla.” He doesn’t even look back, just pats the seat behind him once, a command wrapped in deadly calm.
With a muttered curse, I swing my leg over and climb on. The seat is higher than I expect, forcing me too close to him. The heat from his body seeps through his shirt, through the borrowed leather of his jacket, until I can’t tell where the warmth ends and my own nerves begin.
“Hold on,” he orders.
I hesitate a beat too long before I slide my arms around him. His muscles shift under my hands, solid and tense, a reminder of the strength that just carried me out of my apartment. The movement sends a shiver through me I try to ignore.
The engine revs once, before he kicks the bike into gear.
“Ready?” He grins back at me.
“No.”
He chuckles, the sound dark and quiet. “Too bad.”
The motorcycle surges forward, tires skimming over the cracked asphalt as the city lights blur around us.
The wind steals my breath, my heartbeat syncing with the roar of the engine, and all I can do is hold on tighter to Knox Vale.