3. Knox
KNOX
My serious reflection stares back at me from the mirror as I carefully adjust my bow-tie, ensuring every fold and angle is right.
Every detail counts. In circles like mine, one slight misstep could end up splashed across social media and turn you into a laughingstock for the masses.
I refuse to let that happen. I refuse to be the subject of someone else’s amusement.
“This gala will be a fantastic opportunity for you, sir,” Adeline says over the phone.
She’s running me through last-minute details before I leave, just in case.
“I’ve already sent you the list of attendees, but it looks very promising so far.
We have a few event production managers; celebrity-event scale, and those are always good for business.
Many famous real estate agents will be there, and a few signature chefs you may be interested in connecting with …
” Her voice continues, listing more names and titles, but the words blur together in my mind.
These are the tasks I have to complete, but I can’t say I enjoy them.
“I have all of their numbers and emails,” she adds, “so just send me a brief by tomorrow morning, and let me know if there’s anyone you want me to reach out to directly.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Thank you, Adeline. Have a pleasant night.”
I suspect her night will be far more pleasant than mine, but there is one small thing that eases the tight knot of tension in my chest. Scarlet.
As I hang up with Adeline, her profile is open on my phone.
My eyes trace the smallest details in her pictures that I previously overlooked.
The faint freckles scattered across her cheeks.
The soft, lighter streaks that run through her hair.
The subtle curve of her lips. The shape of her eyes.
The arch of her eyebrows. The perfect contours of her body.
Different thoughts begin to wander through my mind.
Scarlet has been hired for a reason—to keep me company for the evening—and I’m determined to make it a pleasant night for both of us.
That, much to my own frustration, includes small talk during the ride, something I have never been particularly skilled at.
Still, a woman as captivating as her deserves a little exception.
A sharp ring from the doorbell pulls me out of my thoughts.
I glance down at my watch. Five minutes to seven.
That must be her, arriving in the car I arranged.
With a final glance in the mirror to ensure I look nothing short of impeccable, I move toward the door.
Boa and Tim follow close behind, tails wagging.
I shoot them a stern look. “You two better behave,” I warn, and just like that, they obediently settle onto the floor, ears perked but calm. I open the door, and the sight of her that awaits stops me in my tracks. Photos haven’t done her justice. Not even close.
Scarlet stands before me in a tight red dress that hugs her in all the right places, showing just enough to be striking while remaining entirely elegant.
Her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, perfectly complementing the bold red lipstick and sharp winged eyeliner that frames her warm brown eyes.
The black vintage glasses she wears, shaped into a subtle cat-eye, only add to her charm.
She’s, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the chance to encounter both inside The Network and out.
“My name is Scarlet,” she says before I can gather my words. A small, confident smile accompanies her introduction. “I’ll be your date for tonight’s gala.”
I reach out and take her hand, giving it a firm, polite shake.
Her skin is soft and smooth, though I immediately force my mind to stay professional.
“Knox Fisher. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I reply, my eyes lingering on hers longer than I planned, but I can hardly help it.
Our gaze only breaks when Tim and Boa rush forward.
I’m about to warn them and stop them in their steps, thinking they may scare her, but instead of their usual behavior around new people, they approach her wanting attention.
I arch a brow. This is unusual. Normally, they’re cautious around strangers and slow to warm up. Yet here they are, circling her, nudging her hands, and leaning into the pets she gives them.
“And who are these cuties?” she asks, still smiling, clearly amused.
“This is Tim,” I say, nodding toward the smaller dog to her right, who pushes his head forward, nudging her hand. “And that’s Boa.” The larger dog taps her paws impatiently against the marble floor, waiting for her turn for affection. I have never seen them take to someone so quickly.
“I’m going to take a not-so-wild guess,” she says softly, crouching slightly to meet their level.
“These are rescue babies, aren’t they? A friend of mine has one.
When she first got her puppy, he was terrified of human touch.
He relaxed slowly, and now he can’t get enough of it.
Just like these two.” She glances down at them, her fingers brushing Tim’s fur.
She’s not far from the truth. That has been exactly their journey, one step at a time, until trust was earned.
And now, it seems, they are ready to give it freely.
“And your guess would be right,” I say, still struggling to tear my eyes away from her.
“Many people fear Staffies,” she continues, “but I think they are one of the kindest breeds in the world. These two only prove it. They have such wonderful energy.”
“They haven’t always been like that.” I slide my hands into my pockets. “They had their terrible twos phases, being naughty and unstoppable, but that’s long past.”
Her eyes lock on mine when the words leave my lips, and the faintest glimmer of mischief flickers there.
“From what I’ve seen, you do look like a man who can handle all kinds of situations,” she teases with a playful tilt in her voice.
Amusement rushes through me. This is supposed to be a professional arrangement for the evening rather than an intimate one, yet I can’t ignore the way my thoughts begin to wander.
Questions that are entirely inappropriate for this moment start creeping in.
What would she look like beneath her dress?
What would it feel like to have her close?
What sounds would she make? What would she taste like?
Before the thoughts escalate to a kinkier ground, I steer the conversation back to safer territory. “So I take it you’ve done some research?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
The curve of her lips tells me everything I need to know. “Of course. I research all my clients. I need to know what I’m dealing with.” That curiosity, it seems, is mutual, but I keep that thought tucked away.
“Duly noted,” is all I say. With a single smooth gesture, I signal Tim and Boa to return to their beds. They obey immediately, rushing back to their spots in the living room while I close the door behind them. I extend my hand to her. “Shall we?”
She nods softly and puts her hand in mine without hesitation. “Of course.”
As we move down the stairs toward the garage, where my driver waits, a few things become clear.
First, we have a long night ahead of us.
Second, I made the right choice in choosing the woman to accompany me tonight.
And third, just that fact alone will make keeping my hands to myself an exercise in willpower.
One that I already know will be very, very difficult.