5. Knox
Chapter five
Knox
Usually, I would be thankful for the silence in the apartment.
And I suppose I was, at least for the first few days. On Saturday, I’d reasoned I needed to finally put Nina in her place. I’d expected her to behave like a recalcitrant child whose first instinct was to lash out and throw tantrums.
Instead, she’d cried.
It was just a tear, and yet it felt like much more. Maybe the real problem was that she’d gone silent after that. Again, I should have been thankful for it. But there was a difference between peaceful silence and chaotic silence.
The first day was peaceful enough. I didn’t see her at all, but I felt her presence. I spent the entire Sunday on a call with Sean, working on a proposal for Cornerstone Corp, a pharmaceutical company whose corporate positioning project we were trying to land.
At night, I spoke to Lindsay, who was settling in nicely at her new job and wanted to know how things were with my roommate. I didn’t want to worry her, so I told her it was habitable enough that I didn’t have any complaints. Talk about lying through my teeth. I still didn’t think Lindsay believed me.
The next two days were spent at the office, working my ass off. Going back to the apartment in the evening always made my head throb as I thought of whatever fiasco Nina was up to. But she might as well not have been there. Not even a sound to show she was alive.
The kitchen was spotless. No pots lying about, or spilled milk on the burners. Not a hair out of place. I’d frowned, because it was extremely unusual, but in the end, I’d chalked it up to her finally maturing. This was good, no matter how you looked at it.
However, by Wednesday, I started to worry. I was working from home for the rest of the week and had yet to see her. Surely, she had to come out of her room sometime. But by 4:00 p.m., there was still no sound, so I concluded she was either dead or avoiding me.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t give a shit. But my sister obviously cared about the girl, and the last thing I needed was the daughter of Christopher Burton, aka the richest investment banker in California, to die on me. I was already on the verge of bankruptcy. I didn’t have the funds to hire a criminal lawyer.
So, I sneaked out of my room and slid down the hallway to her room. I thought about knocking, then decided against it. She must have still been angry with me. The truth was bitter after all. It wasn’t like anything I’d said was a lie. She was a rich kid, and she would never understand what it was like for the rest of us who had to work to eat, no matter how hard she tried.
To me, trying to live modestly when all you wanted was to live lavishly was a waste of breath. Especially when it was all you’d ever known. Nina was faking it; she always had. And that, in itself, was the problem.
Still, it didn’t mean I wanted her to die. Was she even eating? It would be a shame if she lost any of that nice flesh, especially around her chest…
Knox, you’re an idiot… I know.
I was about to raise my fist to knock when the smell of lavender and lemon permeated the air. I inhaled deeply, the sweet scent clouding my brain.
That meant she was still alive, right? No dead person used scented candles. Nodding once, I headed back to my room. So, she was avoiding me. I snorted. What a fucking baby. Most people her age were concerned with starting their careers and advancing their way up the corporate ladder. Meanwhile, Nina was busy ignoring me. I shook my head.
Here I was, thinking she was a formidable opponent. I was honestly disappointed.
That was, until Friday night, when I was making dinner and Nina Burton finally made an appearance.
For a mere mortal man like me who had blood running through his veins, there were two ways a woman could win this type of war: she either found a way to strangle me in my sleep, or she used the one thing in her arsenal that no sane man could resist—her body.
And man, did Nina have a banging body.
I was chopping vegetables when she appeared, red hair curled in loose waves and falling down her back, and a— what did she call it again? Crop top?
It made sense, actually, because even though I towered over her at a fitting height of six-foot-three, I could see the heavy underside of her breasts. And holy hell, that skirt was so short, it left nothing to the imagination.
The knife in my hand fell to the chopping board as my eyes followed her lithe movements to the fridge, watching as she pulled out a jug of orange juice, grabbed a glass, and poured herself some in an agonizingly slow motion.
I was drooling; I was sure of it. More so because I suddenly began to imagine the color of her nipples and blood rushed to my dick, hardening it almost painfully. Fuck. She’d used perfume. That smell was heavenly.
I was screwed. Right now, this was no child in front of me. This was a fully grown woman who knew she was beautiful, and knew how to use it to get what she wanted.
My dick was throbbing inside my pants, and I absentmindedly ground it against the counter in a futile attempt to get some relief.
I couldn’t believe I was thirsting over my little sister’s best friend. Over a woman I couldn’t care less about. My dick obviously had a mind of its own because my reservations about Nina might as well never have existed.
When she bent over the counter some distance away to reach for her juice, I gulped a thick ball of shame in the form of saliva. Her outstretched arm caused the skimpy top to ride up a little until I was staring at a rose-colored arc, which I assumed to be her areola. Even her skirt had ridden up to reveal the base of her ass. She was playing dirty. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t so fucking turned on.
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, my chest tight, wondering if I should make a run for it. But wouldn’t that be a telltale sign that she’d won? No. I wasn’t going to run, damn it. I was here first.
“Hmm. Did you say something?” she asked, her voice husky as our eyes locked.
Wicked little minx.
I swallowed, grabbing the knife again and trying to focus on the vegetables in pieces in front of me. Even though I found myself sneaking glances at her creamy flesh, I recognized this for what it was: a blatant attempt to drive me crazy. Because Nina wasn’t even trying to hide it. My comment about her clothes got to her, then. It was ironic to think that this show was because of me.
“Of course not,” I muttered.
She made a sound at the back of her throat, eyelashes fluttering as her mouth opened with only the tip of her tongue showing.
Jesus Christ. Who was this woman? I didn’t recognize her. My mind reeled. Was she a virgin? I doubted it. She seemed to be well-versed in this sort of seduction. Or maybe she was just faking it? I wouldn’t be surprised.
Nina’s shirt was one deep breath away from giving way. Had she ever had her breasts sucked? My dick twitched.
Fuck!
Nina suddenly straightened, rubbing her hands down her arm. “I’m cold.”
I bristled. “Shocking.”
She frowned at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe if you had any brain cells between your ears, you’d have thought…” I made a show of looking disgustedly at her exposed body, though there was absolutely nothing to be disgusted about. The woman was packing in all the right places. “…this ridiculous outfit through.”
It was pretty cold in here. Summer was a nightmare, and the apartment had turned into a damn oven. So, before getting started on dinner, I’d headed straight for the thermostat, cranking it down several degrees.
Shaking her head, Nina blew air out of her lips. “Whatever. It’s freezing. I’m turning the air down.”
I stared at her, deadpan. “It’s comfortable.”
She blinked. “Comfortable? Knox, it’s like a meat locker in here. I’m turning it down.”
She made a move toward the thermostat, but I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. I wasn’t about to let her mess with the temperature just because she felt a little chilly. I was sweating bullets because of her little show, and she had the nerve to call it cold.
“No,” I said flatly. “It stays where it is.”
Her eyes narrowed, that calm edge in her voice gone. “This is my house. You don’t get to order me around.”
I crossed my arms, not budging. “If you’re cold, put on a sweater. Or, better still, a straitjacket. The thermostat stays.”
Nina scowled. “You’re such an ass. You’re doing this just to piss me off.”
I shrugged, not bothering to deny it. Maybe I was. She had a way of getting under my skin, and sometimes, it felt good to push back. But I wasn’t letting her win this round. My dick was still semi-hard from just the sight of her curvy body, and now the tables had turned. We would both be uncomfortable, and if she couldn’t take the cold, she should get out of the kitchen.
“Think what you want,” I said, turning away from her. I had a meal to prepare. “But the thermostat stays.”
I heard her mutter something under her breath—probably a string of curses aimed at me. Good. Let her be pissed. It wasn’t like I expected her to take accountability for her actions. This was the consequence of her poor clothing choice, after all.
But, of course, Nina wasn’t done. She marched right over to the thermostat and started fiddling with it again. Fucking girl didn’t know when to quit.
I gritted my teeth, wiping my hands with a rag before approaching her.
Wrapping a hand around her arm, I jerked her toward me and away from the thermostat, growling, “Nina, I said no.” Somehow, this had gone from trying to teach her a lesson to fighting to win.
“Fuck your no! My toes are going numb!”
“Then put on some fucking socks," I snapped, glaring at her. “I’m not touching the thermostat just because you decided to wear next to nothing.”
Her eyes flashed with irritation, and my gaze traveled to her breasts since she was so close to me. Fuck. Why did they look so damn good? I was rabid. What was wrong with me?
“You’re such a dick, you know that? It literally wouldn’t kill you to turn it up a few degrees.”
“And it wouldn’t kill you to deal with it,” I shot back. “Or did you think parading around half-naked would make me fawn over you like everyone else in your life?”
Her gaze burned with hatred. “I’m this close to losing my patience with you. I swear to God.”
I stepped into her, the heat between us igniting my blood. My head was spinning with her lavender scent, adding to the smoldering flames surrounding us.
“What are you going to do, Nina?”
“Let me go,” she spat with venom.
I realized then that my hand was still wrapped around her arm. I should’ve dropped it, but I suddenly didn’t want to. Her skin was soft beneath my touch, and I was enjoying the close proximity.
Holy fuck, I thought. I’m enjoying this push and pull. Who would have thought?
“Make me,” I replied, my grip tightening.
Nina bared her teeth, her pupils flaring. For a split second, I saw something in her gaze—something that made my pulse quicken. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a look of pure defiance.
“Why do you have to be such a controlling ass? It’s just a thermostat.”
“Because it’s not just the temperature,” I yelled, feeling the stress of the last couple of months weigh down on me. “It’s about you always pushing my buttons, always trying to get your way with your fake attitude and faux modesty. And I’m sick of it.”
“You’re sick of it? You’re the one who always needs to be in control, always dictating how things should be. I have no idea when you became the moral police but newsflash—you sound like a boring old man whenever you speak!”
My jaw clenched. I leaned in closer, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “You’re one to talk about morals. Look at you. You’re dressed like a common whore, flaunting your body and trying to get my attention. Because the truth is, when you’re not the center of attention, you lose your mind, because you know deep down, you’re shallow.”
Nina jerked her arm out of my grip in a flash, taking me off guard, though I was quick enough to read her next movements. Raising her hand, she attempted to bring it down on my cheek, but I wrapped a grip around her wrist just in time, stilling her.
“Fucking piece of shit,” she spat, chest heaving as her face colored a bright red, a few shades lighter than her hair. “You’re the rudest, most antagonistic asshole I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
I stared blankly at her. “Hmm. Talk dirty to me.”
“Ugh!” she screamed, using her upper body strength to draw herself away from me. “Move the fuck out already! I fucking hate you!” She spun on her heels and marched down the hallway, her bedroom door slamming behind her.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, finally feeling the chill of the air as goosebumps crept up my skin. I rubbed my hands down my face, opening my eyes.
What was I doing? Why did I keep humoring her by reacting so aggressively to every move she made? I was supposed to be the bigger person here. Literally. I had nine years and several inches on the girl.
Sighing dejectedly, I reached forward to turn up the temperature before stalking back to the kitchen to finish preparing my dinner. I no longer had an appetite, but I already started cooking and abandoning that halfway seemed like a pussy move.
As the seconds ticked away, the silence that surrounded me grew deafening. I briefly wondered if I’d been right to say those things to Nina. If you asked most of the people around me to describe me, the first thing they would say is that I was jaded. And I agreed.
It’d been years since my outlook on life changed. I still remember that night as though it was yesterday. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. What stood out the most was the disappointment I’d felt in myself.
As a young adult, I’d learned many lessons, the most important of which was that life is unfair to the poor. Maybe if my family had been in a better financial situation, things might have turned out differently. But we weren’t, and life had happened to us in the most brutal way.
My misgivings about Nina had nothing to do with her as a person. Sure, she was annoying, spoiled, and acted like a child ninety-nine percent of the time, but those were surface level issues that could be overlooked.
It was the fact that she was trying to be someone she wasn’t that pissed me off. She’d come to see Lindsay when they were in high school, and Mom would invite her to stay for dinner—a measly chicken sandwich she managed to scramble together ingredients for from the little money I brought home. Nina would sit at the table, all fucking smiles like she was mocking us, and be the first to finish her sandwich as if it was the best thing she’d tasted in her life. As though she wasn’t going home to some grand feast meant for kings while the rest of us were forced to make do.
Nina never had to eat those sandwiches, but she did. Sometimes, we had no food at all, and yet she never once complained. Or at least, I didn’t hear anything from my sister. But I knew deep down that to Nina, our life—her relationship with Lindsay—was a “what-if” experiment. No one was that happy around poor people.
With us, Nina got to live an alternate reality where she was the daughter of a pauper, and then she would go home to her rich family and laugh about it.
Still, I should’ve known better than to call her a whore. Even if she was dressed like one. I would apologize if the thought of looking like a fool in front of her didn’t make my skin itch. She’d get over it.
Didn’t she say she was a big girl?