Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Knox
She wears a wedding dress, now crumpled and askew, that cost more than what most people make in three months. In my arms, Seraphina feels lighter than I remember, as if the months away from me have somehow diminished her. That will change. I'll make sure of it. I carry her through the VIP entrance of my building to where my private jet waits, the pilot already notified of our imminent departure. She struggles against me, but it's halfhearted now, the fire temporarily banked by that kiss on the rooftop. Good. Let her remember what it feels like to be wanted by a man who doesn't ask permission to take what belongs to him.
"Where are you taking me now?" she demands, voice caught between outrage and resignation. "Haven't you caused enough damage for one day?"
"Not nearly enough," I reply, nodding to the security team that parts before us like the Red Sea. Every person in my employ knows better than to question me, especially today. The moment I decided to reclaim what's mine, I set dozens of wheels in motion with a single text to my head of security:
Retrieving Seraphina. Clear all obstacles.
"You have a private jet waiting," she observes as we emerge onto the rooftop runway attached to my building. Not a question. She remembers my methods, my resources. "Knox, this is insane. Even for you."
I set her down only when we reach the stairs to the aircraft, keeping one hand firmly wrapped around her wrist. She looks around wildly, as if searching for escape, but there's nowhere to run at thirty stories up, no one to call for help on a private landing strip staffed exclusively by my people.
"Where are we going?" she tries again, digging in her heels as I guide her up the steps.
"Home," I answer simply.
Her wedding dress—a monstrosity of silk and crystals that should only have been worn for me—catches on the doorframe of the jet. Without hesitation, I rip the fabric, tearing away a swath of material to free her. The sound of expensive silk giving way is intensely satisfying.
"Knox!" She gasps, clutching at the torn section. "This dress cost?—"
"I don't care if it cost more than the jet," I interrupt, ushering her inside the cabin. "You won't need it where we're going, and I’ll be damned if I let you wear a dress you intended for another man,” I hiss, sudden anger boiling inside me.
The interior gleams with polished mahogany and butter-soft leather, the Vance Technologies logo embossed on every surface, a constant reminder of the empire I've built. I push her gently but firmly into a seat and buckle her in myself, my fingers lingering against the slender curve of her waist.
"Your island," she whispers, realization dawning in those wide green eyes. "You're taking me to your private island."
I smile, pleased she remembers. "Our island now."
The engines roar to life, drowning out whatever retort she was formulating. I take the seat across from her, not beside her—I want to watch her face, catalog every expression as she processes what's happening. eighteen months is a long time to go without studying the face that's haunted my dreams. She's thinner than she was, the elegant bones of her cheeks more pronounced, slight shadows beneath her eyes suggesting she hasn't been sleeping well.
Good. She shouldn't sleep well without me.
"You won't get away with this," she says when the noise level drops enough for conversation. "People saw you take me. The press?—"
"Will report exactly what my media team tells them to report," I finish for her, accepting a glass of scotch from the attendant who materializes at my elbow. "Something romantic, I think. 'Tech Billionaire Reunites with True Love in Dramatic Fashion.' The public loves a grand gesture."
"It wasn't a grand gesture. It was an abduction!" But even as she protests, I see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. She knows how this works, how the story will be spun. In a world where money talks, mine screams.
"Would you like a different dress?" I ask, deliberately changing the subject. "I have several options on board. Unless you'd prefer to stay in those rags, as a reminder of the mistake I saved you from making."
Her fingers twist the torn silk in her lap. "I chose this dress. I wanted to wear it. For my wedding day. Which you ruined."
I snort. “ You hate that dress.” She looks away because she knows I’m right. I know what Seraphina likes, and she never would have picked this monstrosity. “You chose it because it was expected," I counter, taking a slow sip of scotch, savoring the burn. "Just like you chose him because he was expected. Safe. Appropriate. Everything I'm not."
The jet taxis down the runway, gathering speed. Seraphina stares out the window, watching Manhattan shrink beneath us, but I keep my eyes on her. Memorizing the way the fading sunlight glints off her honey-blonde hair, the perfect curve of her profile, the stubborn set of her jaw. Mine. All mine.
"The island is three hours away," I inform her once we reach cruising altitude. "Why don't you change? Rest. You've had an eventful day."
She turns those green eyes on me, and for a moment I glimpse the vulnerability beneath her anger. "Knox...what do you want from me? Really?"
"Everything," I answer without hesitation. "I want everything, Seraphina. I always have. The difference is this time, I'm not letting you run away when it gets too intense."
"So what, you're going to keep me prisoner on your island?" Her laugh holds no humor. "For how long?"
"Until you accept what we both know is true." I lean forward, reducing the space between us. "That you're mine. That you've always been mine. That walking away from what we had was the biggest mistake of your life."
"And if I never accept that?" she challenges, chin lifted in that defiant pose I've missed more than I care to admit.
I smile, slow and confident. "You will. Your body already remembers. Your mind will catch up."
The remainder of the flight passes in tense silence. Seraphina refuses the offered change of clothes, refuses food and drink, sits rigid in her seat like a prisoner awaiting execution rather than a woman being brought home. I let her sulk. Let her think she's proving something with her small resistances. The war is already won; these are merely skirmishes to soothe her pride.
My island appears on the horizon as darkness falls, lights glimmering against the black velvet of the Caribbean Sea. Ten private acres of paradise, accessible only by personal aircraft or boat, protected by state-of-the-art security and staffed by people who value discretion above all else. I purchased it five years ago, before I even met Seraphina, but from the moment I brought her here the first time, I knew this place was meant for us.
"It hasn't changed," she murmurs as we begin our descent, breaking her self-imposed silence.
"Some things are perfect as they are." I watch her profile in the dim cabin light. "They don't need changing, just appreciating."
The landing is smooth, the runway lights guiding us down like a string of diamonds on black velvet. When the engines quiet, the unique sounds of the island filter in—waves against the shore, tropical birds settling for the night, the soft hum of the security system that ensures our privacy.
Seraphina doesn't fight me as I help her unbuckle, doesn't pull away when my hand settles at the small of her back guiding her toward the exit. The tropical air hits us as the door opens, warm and heavy with the scent of salt and flowers. For a moment, she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, and I see the memory pass across her face—our first time here, her wonder at the island's beauty, the week we spent barely leaving the bedroom except to swim naked in the private cove.
"Come," I say, gentler now. "You know the way."
The path from the landing strip to the main house is lined with torches, their flames dancing in the light evening breeze. The mansion rises before us, modern and imposing against the night sky, walls of glass revealing glimpses of the luxury within. I had it built to my exact specifications—every room designed to maximize the views, every piece of furniture chosen for both beauty and function, every system automated and controlled from anywhere on the property.
Or more importantly, controllable only by me.
"I'm not staying here," Seraphina says as we reach the main entrance, finding her resistance again. "This is kidnapping, Knox. Actual criminal behavior."
"It's a lovers' retreat," I correct her, pressing my palm to the biometric scanner beside the massive front door. It recognizes me instantly, locks disengaging with a soft click. "And it's exactly where you need to be right now."
"Need to be?" She backs away, but there's nowhere to go. Behind her, darkness and jungle. Before her, me. "You don't get to decide what I need!"
I move faster than she expects, catching her around the waist and lifting her off her feet. The remnants of her wedding dress trail behind us as I carry her across the threshold, like some twisted parody of the ceremony she almost completed today.
"But I do know what you need," I murmur against her ear as she struggles in my arms. "Better than you know yourself."
Inside, the house welcomes us with soft lighting and cool air, everything exactly as I ordered it prepared. Fresh flowers in her favorite colors. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood—the signature fragrance I had created just for our bedroom. Champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside the massive sectional sofa where we once spent an entire weekend exploring each other's bodies.
I set her down in the center of the great room, watching as recognition and memory war on her beautiful face.
"The master suite has been prepared for you," I inform her, moving to the control panel discreetly embedded in the wall. With a few taps, I activate the security protocols. Every exit locks. Every window is secured. The boat dock is disabled. The helicopter pad will only accept aircraft with my personal authorization codes.
"For us, you mean," she says, a question in her voice despite her attempt to sound knowing.
"No, angel. For you." I step closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "I'll be staying in one of the guest suites. For now."
Confusion furrows her brow. "You're not…you didn't bring me here to..."
"Force you into my bed?" I finish for her, allowing my fingers to trail down the elegant column of her throat. "No. When you come to my bed, Seraphina—and you will—it will be because you can't stand another night without me inside you."
Her sharp intake of breath is all the response I need.
"You're not a prisoner," I continue, circling her slowly, drinking in every detail of her. "The entire estate is yours to enjoy. The pools, the beach, the gardens. Everything except the means to leave."
"So I am a prisoner," she says flatly.
"Think of it as...a mandatory vacation. Time to remember what you're running from. And why running is futile." I stop in front of her, lifting her chin with one finger until our eyes meet. "You're not leaving this island until you accept that you're mine, Seraphina. Until you admit that everything else has been a pale imitation of what we have together."
"And if I never do?" Her voice trembles slightly, but her gaze is steady.
I smile, confident in a way only a man who has lost everything and fought to get it back can be. "Then we have the rest of our lives for me to convince you."
With that, I step back, putting deliberate space between us. "Your luggage will arrive tomorrow. For tonight, you'll find everything you need in the master suite. Including sleepwear that doesn't remind either of us of the mistake I prevented today."
I turn to leave, feeling her eyes burning into my back.
"Knox," she calls, and I pause without turning. "This won't work. You can't force someone to love you."
Now I do turn, my smile slow and knowing. "I'm not forcing you to love me, Seraphina. I'm simply removing all the distractions that have been keeping you from admitting that you already do."
I walk away then, leaving her standing in the center of what will become our home—permanent, not just a vacation retreat. She doesn't realize it yet, but she's never leaving this island as anything but mine. Completely, irrevocably mine.
Phase one of getting her back is complete. She's here, away from all outside influences, all other options