Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Knox
The echo of my footsteps fills the hallway as I walk out of the dining room.
I can still feel Isla’s gaze on me, even when I know she can’t see me anymore.
I can just imagine what she’s thinking. She looked as overwhelmed as she did last night, still trying to fight yet still losing.
At least she was compliant. Barely.
Getting her to do anything is like trying to tame a wild animal that was never meant to be caged. She’s fucking hard work.
But… I can’t deny that I enjoyed the hunt, the capture, and the reckoning.
And waking up with my hands on her soft, curvy body?
Christ. That image has been branded into my brain forever.
I lied when I said I had morning wood. That was all her.
The way her skin felt against mine, the sound of her breathing, the heat of her body pressed into me.
She has no idea how close I was to losing control.
To spreading those perfect legs so I could explore what lay beneath those black lace panties and tasting her until she was shaking apart.
I would have loved to eat her pussy for breakfast then bury myself balls deep inside her and fuck her until she remembered exactly who she belonged to.
True, Isla isn’t my usual type, but that has nothing to do with her looks or attitude. It’s the kind of woman she is. One who makes me forget the rules I live by.
She’s beautiful, fiery, defiant. And she’s already gotten under my skin.
I admire her nerve, her mouth, the way she keeps pushing when every instinct should be telling her to run. I even find it fascinating that’s she’s managed to unravel the iron-clad control I usually have over my cock.
The women I’m used to are simple. The easy type you can call for the night or a lunchtime blowjob. They know the score. I take what I want; they take what they can get. No emotions. No expectations. Just a place to sink my cock.
But nothing about my bride-to-be is that simple.
She’s supposed to be an easy problem to manage, a means to an end, a pawn in this game, yet the little artist fascinates me more than I’d like.
She almost managed to pierce through the armor and appeal to my human side when she asked about the restaurant.
For a second, I saw something in her eyes that reminded me what empathy used to feel like.
I could’ve told her the truth, that I plan to level it and build luxury apartments, but I gave her a courtesy instead and told her I’d buy her out—which I will do.
When I looked into those hazel eyes, I saw her soul, and for a heartbeat, it restrained the beast inside me. But only for that moment. My plans haven’t changed, and when she gets the payout, she’ll forget all about the sentiment of the restaurant.
Her father sure as hell didn’t think twice about it when he fucked me over.
Sheila meets me in the hallway, tablet in hand and glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
She lives here with four other members of staff: Don, my driver and head of security; Andreas, the chef; and the two new maids whose names I can’t recall.
She knows everything that’s going on, though I’m aware her heart isn’t entirely in my marriage plans. Not because she disagrees with me getting married to pay a debt, which she does, but because she’d rather see me married for real.
She has the deep emotions of the mother I should have had. She started out as our nanny and practically raised my brothers and me.
When we left for college, she went to work for my father at Vale Global as his PA and trusted advisor.
I hired her myself after graduation, when I discovered my previous assistant had been selling stories about me to the press.
That was when I realized the only person I could trust with my life, and my sanity, was Sheila. We’ve been on this path ever since.
“Your bride-to-be seems nice,” she says, her tone carefully neutral. “And interesting.”
I stop and sigh. “Yes to the interesting part. The niceness is debatable. I’ve yet to see that side of her.”
She gives me a pointed look. “It’s understandable if she takes her time to warm up to you.”
“I suppose so.” I straighten my jacket, but keep my focus on Sheila. She has a way of smoothing chaos I’ve never mastered. Maybe she’ll know how to tame my pretty little shrew. “Maybe you can help her warm up.”
“I’ll do my best.” She dips her head in a curt nod. “Everything else will be taken care of while you’re away. The wedding should be pretty much planned.”
Efficient as ever. “Thanks.”
“If there’s anything else that needs to be done, call me.”
“Just do whatever you think will keep Isla out of trouble.”
Her mouth quirks in that knowing way of hers. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll make sure she’s very busy.”
“That works.”
“Knox.” She studies me, reading me like only she can.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. I mean with everything. I’d hate for this thing with the Monroes to get messy.”
I smile, not because what she said was funny, but because I know exactly what she means. “It’ll be fine. Nothing bad can happen. The ball’s finally in my court.”
She nods slowly. “Alright. As always, I trust you know what you’re doing.”
“Yes. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Okay.” She offers a small smile. “Your car’s ready.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Have fun.”
I dip my head and continue outside.
The morning air hits as I step through the door, cool and crisp against the heat still coiled in my chest. The black Bentley waits at the foot of the steps, engine running. Don is already out and holding the door open for me.
I acknowledge him with a nod and slide into the back seat.
The door shuts with a solid thud, sealing me back in my world of leather and silence.
It’s familiar ground. Controlled and predictable. Not like when I’m around Isla.
Still, I can’t wait to get back to her.
The suite smells like whiskey, cigars, and the faint trace of expensive cologne.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawls in a blur of neon and headlights, but inside, it’s a den of arrogance and bad bets.
My brothers sit at the poker table, all focus and bravado, with the kind of silent competition that’s been running between us since we could walk.
We always do this when we’re in L.A.—unwind with a mean game of poker and too much liquor. Especially after we close back-to-back million-dollar deals.
We’re sharing the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, one of the few times we get together outside of the holidays. For a few days, it almost feels like being home again.
The same thing always happens. I lose on purpose so I can get out of the game. Levi and Locke are way too competitive for my liking. Dorian always stays in, trying to battle it out with them until he finally gives up.
I’m happier watching, like I am now.
Leaning against the counter, I sip my beer and split my focus between the game in front of me and what’s waiting back home.
I got word from Sheila an hour ago that all was well.
Isla got her stuff, and even though she’s been quiet, she’s settling in. I feel it’s more the case that she won’t give Sheila any trouble. If I were home, I’m sure things would be different.
Levi slams his cards down with a sharp grin. “Read it and weep, gentlemen.”
Locke exhales slowly, the kind of long-suffering sigh that says he’s been putting up with Levi’s bullshit for far too long. “You’ve been bluffing since the first hand.”
“Yeah, and you keep falling for it.” Levi leans back, stretching his arms over the back of the chair like he owns the room. “Face it, little brother. I’m just better at everything that requires brains and charm.”
Locke arches a brow. “Brains and charm? You mean arrogance and luck.”
“Luck’s still winning,” Levi fires back, flashing that infuriating smile.
Dorian groans, tossing his cards aside. “Every time we do this, I end up losing a few grand and gaining a shit-eating migraine.”
Levi winks. “Consider it the price of entertainment.”
“Bastard,” Dorian mutters.
“I am, aren’t I?”
I take a slow pull from my beer, watching them, knowing exactly what’s going to happen next.
“I’m out.” Dorian stands and leaves the table.
And there it is—my prediction.
“Oh, Dorian, please don’t go,” Locke says in that stupid goat voice while he feigns innocence with a hand placed over his heart.
“Fuck you guys.”
Levi and Locke respond with a cackle that makes them sound like a bunch of hyenas.
I roll my eyes at them and keep drinking. Best not to say anything or get involved. At least I no longer have to break up a fight like when we were younger.
Dorian loosens his tie and crosses the room to join me by the counter. “You’d think I’d stop letting those two rob me blind.”
“But you like the challenge,” I tell him.
He smirks, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge. “Maybe.”
I huff a quiet laugh and shake my head.
Dorian leans against the space next to me and takes a swig of his beer while Levi and Locke resume their deep focus on the game.
After a moment of silence, Dorian studies me. “You’re quieter than usual,” he notes, examining me over the rim of his bottle. “Everything okay at home?”
I answer him with raised brows. “As good as they could be.”
He chuckles. “Your wife-to-be has some serious balls.”
“You can say that again. If looks could kill, I’d be ashes in the wind.”
“You’ll be fine.” He pats my shoulder. “You have balls, too. Though, I’d rather you than me with that girl. Can’t believe you’re getting married in two weeks.”
“Me neither. All things aside, it’s finally sinking in.”
“I was wondering when that would happen.”
I take another slow sip of beer. “It’s happening.” Shit got real when Isla stepped through the doors of my home.
The light humor recedes from his eyes and is replaced by seriousness. “You know… I can’t stop thinking about how I stumbled over that lead on her father. I’ve been wondering if there’s more we have to worry about.”