Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Isla
I remember when I saw The Jungle Book for the first time. I was five.
I loved the movie, but the tiger, Shere Khan, terrified me.
Yes, he was the villain and supposed to be scary, but what got me was the way he looked when he was stalking his prey. That look in his eyes that freezes you, and you know you have no chance of escaping him, no matter how fast you can run.
That is what Knox reminds me of now as he moves toward me.
In his crisp black suit, he walks with dangerous grace. Too calm for the barely-contained look in his eyes.
The crowd parts for him without a word, like they can sense the menace radiating from every step he takes.
The hall feels smaller. Hotter. My skin prickles as those icy blue eyes lock on mine, unblinking and unwavering.
Every instinct tells me I’ve crossed a dangerous line, but I force my chin up and keep my eyes on him.
This was supposed to happen. That is why I wore this hideous dress. To make a statement. And behold my success.
It was like I was meant to have this opportunity. Had Knox ordered me to get ready with Sheila, I would not have been able to pull this off.
I can just imagine what the headlines will say in tomorrow’s tabloids.
Knox Vale’s Fiancée—fashion disaster from the wrong side of the tracks. How could he be marrying someone like her?
While Knox won’t care about the fashion disaster part, people will be talking about him for the wrong reasons. That may only make a dent in the grand scheme of things when it comes to the forfeiture clause, but it’s a good start.
We meet each other in the middle of the hall. Mom and Mia stand to my left.
Mom and aunt Bernice are mortified by my outfit. Mia is amused—she knows exactly what I’m up to.
“Hello, love,” Knox greets me in that deep, smooth voice. The faintest smile plays at the edge of his mouth. A smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Malysh.” I started calling him that last night. It’s supposed to be a sweet Russian endearment, but I say it with dripping sarcasm.
When he leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek, I know the show for the world has begun.
Smile for the cameras and smile for him.
Several cameras go off around us, and my stomach squeezes. This is our first public appearance. After tonight, all of New York will know we’re a couple.
Knox turns his attention to my mother, Mia, and aunt Bernice, his charm flipping on like a switch.
“Mrs. Monroe. Mia, Bernice,” he says smoothly, addressing my family. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you.” Mom offers a smile; so do Mia and aunt Bernice.
“Beautiful party,” Mia says, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Knox nods politely. “I hope you enjoy it. Please, help yourselves to some wine.” He points to the bar.
“Wine sounds great.” Mia nods. “We’ll see you both later.”
“Sure thing.”
Mia gives me one last good luck look before she tugs both our mothers toward
the bar.
And just like that, Knox has managed to dismiss them with all the elegance of a king sending his subjects away.
Now it’s just us.
Knox and me.
The hum of conversation resumes around us, but it feels distant, like we’ve stepped into our own private arena, surrounded by wealth and unspoken threats.
“Interesting choice of dress you have there.” Knox looks me up and down, his gaze trailing over the hideous tie-dye fabric, like a touch meant to scald. “Didn’t you get the one I sent over?”
Here we go. It’s showtime.
“I did, but I thought this was more suitable for me,” I answer in a wistful tone, stretching out my arms and giving him a little twirl. “You know, representative of my artistic abilities.”
“Well, you certainly made an impression,” he murmurs.
“Thank you.” I beam, but I know full well that wasn’t a compliment. Far from it. “I was going for a contemporary look.”
He grins, knowing I’m full of shit, but to my surprise, he nods. “I like it. Definitely shows off your artistic talent. It’s like you’re wearing a Monet.”
Wait, what?
My eyes widen. There’s absolutely no way he thinks that. Right? “Oh. I’m… glad you think so.”
“Of course. Come. My family are dying to meet you. Lets’ not keep them waiting.”
He slips an arm around me and ushers me forward.
A lightheaded sensation washes over me, and for a moment, I feel like I just stepped into a trap.
I gaze up at the sculpted line of his jaw, trying to pick out a tell. But I can’t. I… can’t read him. I don’t know if he’s being serious or not.
There’s no way he’s serious. This is Knox. I expected him to be pissed I didn’t follow orders and wear the dress he sent for me. And I’m at the Astoria looking like a desperate clown.
No, there’s no way he’s serious.
He must be just playing along because we’re in public.
Damn it. Now I’m not so sure this was a good idea.
It feels like he’s back in the driving seat again, and I’m just being dragged along for the ride.
We reach his family, and I smile, keeping my composure. Losing it in front of them would mean giving him exactly what he wants.
He introduces me, and they seem as nice as can be given the situation with my father.
His sister is a darling. She’s less rigid than his brothers and actually wants to speak to me.
She tells me about her recent stay at Harvard and even invites me for dinner.
Knox introduces me to some of his investor friends next. There, we get lost in conversation. They want to know how we met, what our first date was like, how Knox proposed, and why we kept our relationship quiet for so long.
Thank goodness we both have our stories straight.
The whole time, I’m aware of Knox’s arm around me. It feels strange and protective at the same time. But I’m sure it’s a gesture of a possession and a reminder for me to stay in line.
We’re talking to a wiry-looking man with a cane when a reporter approaches us, his camera in hand.
“Can I get a few pictures of you two for The Times?” he asks.
“Of course,” Knox replies. “Where do you want us?”
“Here’s good. Can you give me something romantic for the readers?” He smiles. “Maybe a kiss for tomorrow’s front page?”
My stomach drops.
Another kiss.
Oh God. This was bound to happen. It’s part of the act.
But right here? In front of everyone?
Of course. Right here. In front of everyone. Otherwise, what would be the point?
“Sure,” Knox replies easily, as if this is normal for us. Like it won’t mean crossing another line.
“Wonderful.” The reporter beams from ear to ear, lifting his camera. “Ready when you are.”
Knox’s hand drifts to the small of my back, warm and steady through the cotton of my dress.
An unwelcome shiver climbs my spine as he draws me closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne. Something dark and expensive that makes my head spin.
“Don’t look so scared, love,” he murmurs near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “It’s just a kiss.”
Then his lips are on mine.
No warning. No prelude. He just kisses me.
At first, it’s soft, almost gentle, but there’s an undercurrent of possession that steals my breath. The same way it did when he kissed me at the club.
His mouth moves against mine with a confidence that speaks of experience, of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. And how to do it well.
One hand cups my jaw; the other presses to my lower back, holding me against him like I might vanish if he lets go.
For a moment, I forget everything. The crowd of elegant strangers watching our every move. The cameras flashing in the background that are capturing this moment. The champagne-scented air.
There’s only him. The hammer of my heart, the flutter deep in my stomach, and the treacherous way my body melts into the hard planes of his.
Just a kiss? Jesus.
If this is just a kiss, then every kiss I’ve ever had before tonight was a rehearsal.
And anyone else who wasn’t him had no idea what they were doing.
When Knox finally breaks away, his forehead lingers against mine for one suspended heartbeat, long enough for me to catch a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before the mask slides back into place.
Applause ripples around us, distant and muffled, like sound underwater. Knox’s thumb grazes my cheek in a gesture so tender it could almost be real, and I have to remind myself it’s not. None of this is real.
“Perfect,” he whispers, so quietly only I can hear. I can’t tell if he means the performance… or the kiss.
My lips tingle, warmth spreading from deep within. That’s not supposed to happen. Not from just a kiss.
Except it wasn’t just a kiss.
“Thank you, that was great,” the reporter says, breaking the moment.
Knox and I turn back to him, just in time to see a swarm of reporters approaching, cameras flashing.
The reporters close in, voices rising with questions.
Knox’s hand is still at my waist, anchoring me in place, and I’m suddenly grateful for it because my knees feel like they might give out.
Then, mercifully, a familiar, low voice cuts through the noise. “Knox.”
Dorian stands a few feet away, effortlessly composed in his tailored suit, his expression cool as always. “The dining hall’s ready,” he says, his gaze flicking briefly to me before settling on his brother. “Dad wants you both up front in five minutes.”
Knox nods once. “We’ll be there.”
Dorian gives me a polite smile, too polite, then walks off, slipping back into the crowd.
My pulse hasn’t quite recovered from the kiss when the meaning of his words hits me.
The dining hall.
That means it’s time for the speeches. And the ring.
First the kiss. Now the ring.
Because why stop at one public performance when we can have two?
I plaster on a smile and murmur, “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”
Knox’s mouth curves slightly as if he can hear the lie dripping from every syllable.
“Try to look like you mean it, love,” he says under his breath, his thumb brushing the side of my wrist. “After all, the best actors never break character.”
I bite back the retort clawing its way up my throat.
He’s enjoying this. Every second of it.
And worse, he knows exactly how much it’s getting to me.