Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Isla
Warmth fills my body. Not the kind from sunlight or heat, but something heavier, deeper. Like being wrapped in a dream I don’t remember falling into.
Sleep clings to me as I drift in that hazy space between awareness and whatever came before.
For a moment, I just lie there, weightless, cocooned in softness. My body feels loose, boneless against the mattress.
The steady rhythm of another heartbeat nearby seeps into me, calming the storm that’s lived under my skin for days. I can’t remember the last time I felt this… safe. This still.
A faint flutter of fingers grazes my bare waist, and the moment shatters.
My breath catches as the fog slowly clears from my mind.
Memories of last night rush back. I blink against the bright morning sun… and then I see him. Knox Vale.
He’s right there in front of me, still asleep. And somehow, I’ve ended up pressed against his chest.
Shock holds me in place as I take in the dark fringe of his long lashes, the rough stubble shadowing his jaw, and the faint furrow between his brows that makes him look less like my villain… and more like a man.
Then his fingers flex at my hip, and I realize his arm is draped possessively across my middle, like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
And God… our legs are tangled beneath the sheets.
My heart stutters painfully against my ribs as the realization crashes through me—I’ve been wrapped in him this whole time.
For one crazed heartbeat, I can’t move. I can’t think. I just feel the weight of his arm, the rise and fall of his chest against mine, and the steady thrum of a pulse that might be his… or mine.
I need to get up. Now. This is way, way, way too close to my villain for comfort.
My intense staring must make him stir.
His breath hitches, then bright blue eyes open and lock on mine. They’re clear as glass, cold as frost, calm at first glance, yet there’s a storm waiting beneath the surface.
Knox lifts his head, hair falling over his eyes in a sexy mess.
We stare at each other. Him realizing he’s holding me; me still trying to get my frozen-in-shock body to move.
His eyes drift to my waist, where his arm still rests. His eyes widen slightly, and a flicker of raw heat sparks there.
I follow his gaze and, to my absolute horror, realize my shirt has ridden up to my chest, leaving my stomach bare and my black lace panties very much on display.
Mortification detonates inside me, enough to kick my body into motion.
“Get off me!” I yelp, wriggling out of his arms.
I scramble off the bed, snatching one of the sheets to cover myself as humiliation floods me.
A deep rumble of laughter fills the room, low and amused.
I glance back to find Knox sitting up, watching me.
He pushes a hand through his hair, brushing it from his face.
And there it is again, that unfair beauty.
No one should look that good when they first wake up.
I already looked like hell when I got here. God only knows what I look like now.
“Good morning, love.” He smirks, flashing me a wicked grin.
“Don’t you good morning me.”
“Relax, you’re still a virgin.”
I blink at him, eyebrows rising. “I’m not a virgin.”
Knox tilts his head, then gives a slow shake. “Every woman’s a virgin until they take my cock.”
His arrogance twists my stomach, but his words spark something I’d rather not name deep in my core. “I guess I’ll be remaining a virgin, then.”
His eyes roam over my body, stopping at my waist as if he can see through the sheet. “That’s debatable.”
While my mouth drops, he gets off the bed and simply winks at me.
“No. It’s not.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not your type.”
He faces me, and God help me, my gaze drops straight to the hard bulge of his cock straining against his boxers.
That ruthless grin returns as he catches me looking. “Don’t worry. That’s not for you. Pretty sure that’s just morning wood.”
“What is wrong with you?” I bite out, stunned. “No one talks like that.”
“Maybe you are my type,” he says easily, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I’m not. Trust me. And since you’re not mine, we’re good.”
“You’re the one eye-fucking my cock,” he teases, smug as sin.
My cheeks blaze. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You are such an asshole.”
“Can’t blame me for telling the truth.” He grabs a pair of sweatpants from the chair and pulls them on, still leaving that bare, sculpted torso on display.
Now I can’t look away. I’ve never seen muscle definition like that in real life, only on athletes or in magazines. Never this close.
Then, just like that, the humor drains from his face and the other Knox returns, the one made of sharp edges and control.
“The ensuite’s behind you.” He points to the door on my left. “Shower, put on a robe, and meet me downstairs in the dining room. Try to be quick. I have to leave soon.”
A tight-lipped smile replaces the last trace of warmth, and I’m left wondering if the man who was teasing me a moment ago ever really existed.
He heads for the door, walks through, and closes it behind him. The sound of his footsteps fades down the hall, leaving a hollow kind of quiet in his wake.
I stay where I am, clutching the sheet around me while my mind spins.
I’ve been spiraling since the moment I met Knox. Things were already hard enough losing Dad, but somewhere along the way, I must’ve taken a wrong turn and ended up upside down in the Twilight Zone.
Last night was… beyond far-fetched. Knox showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night and took me like some caveman pirate. He threw me over his shoulder, marched me out of the building, and rode me to the Hamptons on his motorcycle.
I honestly don’t know who would believe me if I told them that story.
And then there’s this morning. That still feels unreal. Not just our unhinged exchange. Everything. The warmth of his body, that arrogant grin, the way he shifted from teasing to cold command without blinking. It’s like living with two different men housed in the same skin.
And I woke up in his arms.
Either I’m sex-starved—which is likely, because let’s face it, it’s been years since I’ve been with anyone—or the little control I had left is slipping through my fingers like sand in an hourglass.
I press my palms to my face, trying to steady my breathing. This is only day one, and I already feel like I’m in over my head.
Because I am.
Who wouldn’t feel this way around Knox? I can’t figure him out, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to.
I want as little to do with him as possible. But I’m just not sure I have that choice.
Finally, I force myself to move and head to the ensuite.
The moment I step inside, the lush design steals my breath. Luxury is everywhere—granite walls, gold fixtures, towels folded with precision—but my gaze zeroes in on the shower.
It’s enormous, framed in glass and big enough to fit three people.
“Wow,” I breathe.
I might’ve managed to keep my composure last night when I first arrived at this palace of a home, but I’m a sucker for a beautiful bathroom. Still, the opulence is another reminder that this is Knox’s world. And now, somehow, I’m part of it.
I take off my clothes and step into the shower, letting the warm water ease the tension in my body and quiet my mind.
It’s tempting to stay longer, to let the world disappear behind the sound of the water, but Knox’s warning to be quick echoes in my head. And I know what’s waiting—our next-steps talk.
I might have wanted to bury my head in the sand before, but now that I’m here, I can’t hide anymore. I need to know where this is going.
Reluctantly, I turn off the tap, gather my hair into a loose ponytail, and slip into one of the thick, white bathrobes. Then I step back into the bedroom.
By the time I make my way downstairs, the house no longer feels like the silent museum it was last night. Voices and movement drift through the halls, soft but steady, breathing life into the space.
I follow the sound of Knox’s voice through the hall, the low timbre unmistakable even from a distance. It draws me toward a set of double doors at the end of the corridor.
Inside, sunlight spills across a long mahogany dining table, catching on glassware and silver cutlery.
The scent of coffee, toast, and something buttery fills the air, and my stomach growls in betrayal.
Knox sits at the head of the table, his posture effortlessly commanding. He’s dressed in a suit now, ready for work. The rugged drifter look is gone, even though he still has a five-o’clock shadow.
He’s mid-conversation with an elderly woman who looks like she’s stepped straight out of an Agatha Christie novel. She has neat silver hair, a tweed jacket, and sharp, intelligent pale-gray eyes that look like they miss nothing.
When she notices me, she brightens instantly and rises to her feet. “Ah, there you are.” Her accent is warm and distinctly Scottish, the kind that makes me think of Professor McGonagall from Harry Potter.
She crosses the room gracefully and offers her hand. “Hi, I’m Sheila, Knox’s assistant. Lovely to meet you in person, though I was hoping to introduce myself over the phone first.”
My cheeks warm. This is the assistant who was calling me? I instantly feel bad, because she seems nice. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to miss your calls.”
She gives a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling. “No harm done, dear. You had quite the night, from what I hear.”
I shoot a look at Knox, who responds with a clipped smile.
Sheila pats my arm lightly, her smile kind but brisk, like someone who’s been running Knox Vale’s empire long enough to know exactly what kind of chaos follows him.
“Come, sit.” She motions toward the table.
“You must be starving. Andreas, our chef, has just finished breakfast. I’ll bring you out a plate of food. ”
Before I can answer, she’s already pulling out a chair near Knox’s right.