12. Scarlet
SCARLET
What in the world is even happening?
That’s the only question circling in my mind as I stare down at our birth charts again. Scorpio and Gemini. Not the most perfect match, but there’s enough common ground for things to work. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. That’s what I wanted to believe.
I sink back into my sofa with a small, tired sigh, trying to push away the thoughts that won’t stop tearing me apart.
I want to understand where everything went wrong.
The weekend started so well. We went out for dinner, we slept together, and that night I slept better than I had in years.
I didn’t even know my body could feel that calm.
The second morning came, though, something in him shifted.
His warmth was replaced by something distant, like he quietly built a wall in the few hours I had been asleep.
I have no idea what caused it or how to break through it.
My chest tightens.
Did I do something wrong? Say something off? Did I make him uncomfortable without realizing it? It didn’t feel that way. Knox is pretty transparent with his emotions; he wears them openly. If something had bothered him, I’m sure I would’ve caught it.
Jessie warned me. I can practically hear her voice in my head now, telling me that this was just a catastrophe waiting to happen … so did I step into territory I already knew could scorch me?
The back of my eyes stings at the thought.
For some reason, I convinced myself that things with him would be different, that I would be the exception and this story would somehow end another way.
It’s the trap so many girls fall into, thinking they’re the one person who can rewrite the pattern and be the exception to the rule …
only to end up exactly where they swore they’d never be.
A single tear threatens to fall, but I wipe it away before it escapes. I refuse to cry over a man.
So I do the only thing that actually makes sense. I slide back into my life exactly as it was before Knox ever appeared in it. No drama or waiting around for answers that will never come. Just … returning to myself. And that starts with fixing at least one thing I let slip.
I pick up my phone and scroll through my client contacts, my thumb moving automatically. I don’t even pause when Knox’s name flashes by; I glide right past it, straight down to the letter X.
Xavier.
I tap his contact and open a new message. My fingers hover for a second, but only a second, before I start typing.
Me: Hey, Xavier. I’m feeling much better now. I appreciate your understanding. Maybe we could do that booking sometime next week?
I don’t let myself overthink it. I don’t give myself even a heartbeat to reconsider. Before doubt can creep in, I hit send, and just like that, there’s no taking it back.
“My fucking God …” The words drag out with a heavy moan as Xavier reaches his orgasm. His body trembles on top of mine, every muscle tense as he breathes heavily. I fall into my role, letting out a loud moan as well, one that he has heard a million times before.
Only he doesn’t suspect that it’s not the same as the others because I haven’t come. Not even close.
My nails dig into his back as I force a shudder, rolling my eyes back into my skull.
This time, not even his hand around my throat, something that’s usually enough to toss me over the edge, has gotten the job right.
I’m too much in my head, thinking about him during every single booking for the past two weeks.
Xavier couldn’t make it last week, so we ended up scheduling for this one instead.
Stupidly, somewhere in the middle of all that waiting, I kept hoping Knox would come to his senses and reach out through even a tiny message, a half-hearted attempt.
A small, darker part of me even wished he’d try to book me again, so that I could decline and pretend I still had some kind of control.
My whole world has been flipped upside down, and he walks around completely unaware.
“Scarlet?” Xavier’s voice cuts through my spinning thoughts. I blink, realizing I must’ve drifted far, far away.
“Sorry … what were you saying?” I ask as I roll onto my side to face him.
He studies me with a worried frown. “Are you okay? You haven’t really been yourself these past two bookings. I know I’m just a client, but if there’s anything you need …”
I wave my hand gently, brushing off the concern. It’s kind of him to offer, but this isn’t something he, or almost anyone else, can fix. There’s only one person who can, and for reasons I can’t explain, I have a sinking feeling he’s not coming back.
Darkness wraps around me the moment I unlock my apartment door.
I push it open and reach for the light switch, filling the room with a soft, familiar glow.
It’s strange. This place has always been my sanctuary.
Ever since I moved in, it’s been the one space that’s never failed to calm me down.
After long bookings, I loved coming home, slipping into a warm bath, and pouring myself a glass of wine so every muscle in my body could relax.
Not once have I felt lonely here. Until now.
A rational part of me tries to speak up, reminding me how silly I’m being.
He’s just a client, someone I’ve only seen twice.
Still, something about Knox hit differently.
He didn’t just walk into my life; he somehow slipped under my skin.
Now there’s this aching pull inside me and this ridiculous longing for him, and I hate every second of it.
I drop my keys into the little bowl by the door and reach into my purse for my phone, ready to clock out for the night.
My mind feels far too tired to think about bookings, clients, or anything else work-related.
Just as I open my screen, my phone buzzes with that familiar notification, the sound that signals another booking request. I sigh softly.
Okay, one last thing, and then I’m done for today, I tell myself.
The moment I look at the screen, though, my heart stumbles. It’s him. Knox.
He’s sent in a request, just for one evening this time. Immediately, the questions rush in.
Why? If last time wasn’t what he wanted, why come back? Why reach for me again?
I stare at his name on my screen, completely unsure whether I should be relieved, terrified, or hopeful. None of the options feels right.
My thoughts start spiraling so fast it’s hard to even form a clear sentence in my head.
The back of my eyes burns in that too-familiar way that comes right before tears.
I want to decline the booking. I really do.
One tap of a button, and it would be done.
But where would that leave me? What answers would that give me?
If he asked to see me again, then there has to be a reason, and if I’m ever going to understand what happened …
this may be the only chance I’ll get. My stomach knots itself tightly, but in my heart, I already know my choice.
Maybe I’m being foolish. Maybe I’m being reckless.
But I don’t care. My selfishness takes over before logic even has a chance to argue.
Because I know, deep down, painfully and honestly … I have to see him again.
The elevator to his penthouse opens with a loud ding that echoes far too loudly in my chest. The last time I stepped out onto this floor, I left his home smiling and feeling something I’d never felt after a booking before.
Now, as the doors slide open, all I feel is a twisting nervousness pulling tight in my stomach.
The moment I step out, Tim and Boa rush toward me. Their tails wag, and they wiggle between my legs, desperate for attention. Their excitement almost makes me laugh.
This time, there’s another little addition. Milly. She still looks cautious, her tiny body tense, but I can tell she’s starting to relax here. She takes a few slow, uncertain steps in my direction before stopping, as if unsure whether she’s brave enough to come closer.
“She’s still getting used to people.” Knox’s voice comes from my left.
I turn toward him, and just like that, my heart twists sharply in my chest. He’s beautiful in a way that’s almost painful to look at. The photos people share of him online don’t even come close to the real thing.
I had hoped that some warmth might have returned to his expression, but the coldness is still there. A distant, unreadable look clouds his eyes. Even though curiosity burns in me, I don’t feel like I have the right to ask. I don’t even understand why he wanted me here tonight.
All I know is that the thought of him being with someone else makes something inside me tear painfully. We’re not exclusive. We’re not anything, really.
In fact, he barely seems to like me right now. So why does my heart insist on wanting only him?
“She seems to be adjusting well,” is all I manage to say.
My eyes linger on his custom-tailored suit, which clings to the sharp lines of his body, and his neatly slicked-back hair.
My thoughts spin in every direction, although I do everything I can to hold myself together.
There are so many things I want to say and so many questions at the back of my throat, yet none of them feel possible to voice.
I pull in a slow breath and return my attention to the schedule in front of us. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“A business dinner,” he replies, sinking his hands into his pockets.
“I expect it won’t take too long. I’m supposed to go over a few potential business opportunities.
Some of my business partners insisted on bringing their wives, so …
” His voice drifts off, and he gives a slight shrug before walking toward me with purposeful steps.
His eyes flick toward his arm like a silent cue for me to take it. “Shall we?”
I pause for a heartbeat before I link my arm through his. My chest flutters at the simple closeness, even though I know it holds none of the meaning I wish it did. It’s still something to hold on to, at least for now. “Of course,” I respond, although a quiet question forms in the back of my mind.
What exactly am I stepping into again, and will I break my heart all over again?
The drive to the restaurant passes in silence, and the dinner itself feels exactly like the kind of business gathering I expected.
The furniture is sleek and carefully polished, the servers move with practiced professionalism as they lead us to our table, and the air is filled with the stiffness of perfect etiquette.
I try my best to blend in, as I always do, yet every slight movement makes me feel like I stand out.
The recent shift between Knox and me only sharpens that feeling.
Knox pulls out my chair before introducing me to the men seated around the table and their wives.
Mr. Lowell, beside his wife, who wears a strained smile that hints at an argument they likely had on the way here.
Mr. Stanley, next to a wife who appears at least twenty years younger.
Mr. Page, with his wife as well, although something about the pairing confuses me more than the others.
His eyes keep drifting toward the male servers every time one passes by, full of interest he tries to disguise.
All of them seem polite enough, although I suspect their politeness has more to do with the money and influence Knox is capable of offering.
Knox settles into the seat beside mine. Our chairs are only a few inches apart, yet it feels as if an entire ocean stretches between us.
The formal introductions begin, although most of the words drift past me in a blur. My attention keeps returning to Knox.
It’s incredibly easy to lose myself in watching him. My thoughts become tangled in the shape of his jaw and the calm way he sits, right up until a different distraction appears and steals the room without trying.
A tall redhead approaches from the side, dressed in a delicate black dress that falls along her curves.
Her makeup highlights every striking detail of her face, from her small button nose to her high cheekbones and soft green eyes.
Her jawline forms a perfect arc, and her blonde hair rests in loose waves across her shoulders.
Her focus is entirely fixed on Knox, as if no one else at the table even exists.
She doesn’t need to introduce herself. I recognize her immediately.
Several of the articles I read about Knox revealed fragments of his past. The reporters had dug up information about a difficult breakup with a long-term girlfriend. They even tracked her down and included photographs for good measure. Those images are now standing before me as a living person.
There is no doubt in my mind. This is her. The woman who once held Knox’s heart, fractured it, and has now walked straight back into his life.