Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Knox
Italy lingers in my head like a dream I’m not ready to wake from.
Every morning since Isla and I got back to New York, I’ve clung to the memories of our time together.
I didn’t want to leave the life we slipped into so easily. But mostly, I didn’t want to leave the version of us we created there.
For two weeks, Isla was mine in a way that felt outside the rules of who I’m supposed to be.
It was just us. No boardrooms. No meetings. No expectations. Just her laughter, her body tangled with mine, and her stubborn heart softening every time she curled into me at night.
Now we’re back, and I have to step into the shoes of the Knox Vale everyone knows. The businessman who carries the weight of a billion-dollar empire like it’s part of his anatomy.
Except something strange has happened to me.
The Knox Vale I’m supposed to be feels like an act.
The first three days back, I’ve sat in meetings, drafted proposals, talked to executives—doing all the shit I used to breathe like oxygen. But for the first time in my life, it all feels… thin and hollow. Like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.
Then I go home, and there she is.
My wife.
I see Isla, and suddenly, that feels like the truth. The person I am when I’m with her feels real, and I don’t bother pretending I don’t crave it. Crave her.
Friday comes faster than I expect, dragging me back into the chaos of my old world.
Tonight is the Vale Global Summer Gala. Our first public appearance since the wedding. The one half of New York’s press has been foaming at the mouth over.
Everyone wants a glimpse of the billionaire and his new bride. We’ll be swarmed by a parade of cameras and society vultures, waiting for the perfect photo.
Isla’s supposed to meet me here.
I’m in the grand hall with Locke and Levi. I’m half-listening as they go back and forth about someone’s deal memo. The other part of my mind is on Isla.
I can’t wait to see her. I don’t give a shit about the purpose of tonight, nor the press waiting to invade our lives. I just want her.
“I swear to God, the Rawlings have no idea what the hell they want,” Locke sneers, cutting into my thoughts. “First, they ask for a full acquisition, then they want a partnership, now they’re talking about a ‘creative alliance.’ What does that even mean?”
Levi snorts. “It means they’re idiots. We should bill them double for wasting our time.”
Locke flicks him a look. “You’d bill a dying man for his last breath.”
“I would.” Levi smirks. “Gladly. Especially if he sent a memo like this.”
Locke rolls his eyes at him and focuses on me. I hope like hell he doesn’t ask me anything important. I have no idea what he said before. “What should we do?”
“I’ll take a look at the files and let you know Monday.” That answer should buy me some time.
“Monday may be too late. They won’t stop calling me.”
My brother suffers from the same curse as me of always being available and never knowing when to draw a line.
“Then either divert all calls to voicemail or switch the phone off.”
His mouth falls open, and the two of them stare at me like I just grew an extra head.
“You can’t be our brother.” Locke shakes his head.
“Yeah, the same brother who made us work from morning till night ten days in a row without sleep,” Levi adds with a frown.
I give them a slow grin. “I’m cutting you some slack.”
“Or maybe you’re pussy-whipped.”
I arch a brow at Levi. “Say that again.”
He lifts both hands. “I’m just calling it like I see it, bro.”
Locke grins like the traitor he is. “He’s got a point. Italy changed you, man. You’re suspiciously… agreeable. And nice.”
“I’m the same as always.” That’s a blatant lie and we all know it.
“Sure, you are,” Levi drawls. “Except you haven’t ripped anyone’s head off in days. You haven’t threatened to fire anyone in, what, forty-eight hours? And at lunch, I actually saw you smiling. Smiling, Knox.”
Locke taps his phone like he’s documenting evidence. “I’m taking notes for your future psychological evaluation.”
“You idiot. You don’t need to do that.”
“Oh, I think I do. Never know when these things will come in handy.”
I turn away, but they’re still talking, still dissecting me like I’m some rare lab specimen.
And then something shifts in the crowd. It rolls through me like a pulse under my skin.
I feel her.
I don’t hear her footsteps. I don’t see her walk in. But I know she’s here.
My brothers keep bickering, but their voices fade into white noise. My attention drags toward the entrance like a magnet.
Levi notices my posture change and follows my gaze before Locke does.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “Look. Mystery solved.”
Locke whistles under his breath. “Yeah. You’re definitely pussy-whipped, Knox.”
I ignore them.
Because Isla just walked into the room, and everything inside me goes still.
She looks like she stepped straight out of a dream. My dream.
And suddenly, nothing else matters.
Nothing.
Unlike the engagement party, a sleek sleeveless black gown that looks like it was painted on her hugs her svelte figure. Her hair is swept back in a half-up/half-down style, and her lips are painted the kind of red that ruins men.
The sight of her shatters my cool facade and sends my fucking mind into a tailspin. Instantly, I’m yearning to touch her, to inhale her, to be close to her. To have her all to myself again.
I want to taste her, taste every inch of her body, and claim her like I never have before.
I don’t want to be here, in front of everyone, where I have to share her with the world.
People already know she’s mine. That’s enough.
This show for the crowd… I don’t want it anymore.
A group of photographers swarms Isla. She pauses on the top of the stairs for some pictures, then she looks across the room, and her eyes find mine.
That look hits me square in the chest, and I know there’s no fucking way I’ll be able to stick around for this party and keep my hands off her.
Her lips part, and something tightens in my gut. The world narrows to a single point, to this woman who became my undoing.
I step away from my brothers without a word. They’re still goading me, but I don’t care. They’re right. I’m different because of Isla. But I’m not pussy-whipped.
This feeling stirring inside me, taking over my every thought and action, isn’t that. It’s something bigger.
I’m aware of cameras swinging toward me, of whispers rippling, of the sudden sharpened interest in the air.
But she’s all I see.
She moves toward me, too. Every step closer feels like she’s pulling me deeper into temptation.
We close the distance until we’re just a breath apart.
Her perfumed body surrounds me, wild and intoxicating. Heat rolls under my skin, and my pulse goes wild.
“Hi,” she whispers, like the word is meant only for me.
I can’t talk. I answer by pulling her closer and crushing my lips to hers.
Cameras go wild with flashes everywhere, and I don’t care. This kiss isn’t for them.
It’s for me.
I kiss her until I feel senseless. It’s only when that raw hunger hardens my dick that I pull away, realizing I need to stop before I do something scandalous in front of half of New York.
Isla stares back at me flushed, her pupils blown wide and lips swollen from my kiss.
“Let’s get out of here,” I murmur. Excitement flickers across her face.
“But I just got here.” She smiles, pressing a dainty hand to my chest, but glances around nervously. “That reporter over there said we’re supposed to be doing some exclusive. And your PR team looked like they were waiting for us.”
“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”
She hesitates, biting her lip. “Don’t we need to stay for the press? You said the cameras—”
I cup her jaw, cutting off her words. “Love… this stopped being about the cameras and the fucking press a long time ago. Let’s go.”
Her breath catches, but I can see that crest of desire rising in her eyes.
Without another word, I slip my hand to her waist and usher her away.
Reporters try to stop me with questions I don’t answer, and when they realize we’re leaving, they try to get more pictures of the power couple everyone has painted us to be.
We step outside the hall. I reach for my phone to call Don, but one look at the gridlocked traffic crawling past the glass walls kills that idea fast. There’s no way I’m sitting in that. I need to be inside my wife now.
An idea hits me. A wicked one. The kind that feeds the filth in my head.
“Come this way,” I growl, tightening my grip on her hand as I lead her toward the elevators.
“Where are you taking me, Knox?” She giggles.
“You’ll see, love.”
The elevator at the end of the hall waits like it knows what I’m about to do. I hit the button and shove us inside the moment the doors slide open. I slam my hand against the panel for the top floor.
Isla looks up at me. She knows what’s on the top floor. “Your office?”
“My office.” I back her against the wall, caging her in with my body, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip. “I need to fuck you now.”
A blush climbs her neck, and she swallows hard. “Oh, I see.”
“Good.” My lips are back on hers before either of us can blink.
The elevator glides upward with agonizing slowness, but I take advantage of every second with this kiss.
Finally, the doors open onto the executive floor, and I’m barely holding it together.
I grab Isla’s hand, and we’re practically running down the hallway to my office.
When we reach it, I can’t get inside fast enough. I damn near kick the door open and just about remember to lock it.
Once I do, my attention is back on her. The last time Isla came here, she handed me the contract and had that hate-filled look in her eyes.
It’s like I’m looking at a different person now. A different woman. One standing in the center of my world with the skyline glowing behind her like the city is bowing to her. And that look in her eyes—soft and open, wild with desire, brimming with…love…
It’s all for me.