Chapter 18
Knox
BEEP-BEEP—BEEP-BEEP—
Knox jerked upright on the leather couch, disoriented for half a second before the ache in his cheek reminded him exactly where he was. He killed the alarm and sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, dragging both hands down his face.
What the hell had that been?
That was the part he couldn’t make sense of. Not that it happened—that part was painfully clear. But the fact that he’d liked it. No, liked was too tame a word for it. It had been hot. Stupidly hot. He had absolutely no explanation for why, and he wasn’t going to sit here looking for one.
He pushed to his feet. An existential identity crisis could wait. The best move right now was obvious: leave before this got any weirder. Preserve whatever scraps of dignity hadn’t died last night. He found one shoe halfway under the coffee table, scanning the floor for the other.
The bathroom door swung open.
Knox stilled.
Dominic stepped out, toweling the last beads of water from his hair, and Knox forgot what he was looking for.
Dominic was half dressed, wearing charcoal trousers and a white shirt still hanging open.
Black ink curled over nearly every inch of visible skin, dark patterns that turned muscle into a living sculpture.
He couldn’t look away.
Oh, this was bad.
Dominic’s gaze flicked up. “You’re awake.”
“Looks that way,” Knox managed, throat sandpaper-dry.
Dominic started buttoning his shirt, hiding the ink inch by inch, and Knox felt a pull of disappointment so immediate and so stupid that it almost startled a laugh out of him. He shut his mouth before anything showed.
“Coffee?” Dominic asked, still working the last buttons.
“Yeah,” Knox said. “Thanks.”
Dominic moved to the machine without comment. Knox’s eyes wouldn’t leave the man alone. He tracked the shift of muscle under white cotton, the efficient way Dominic moved through his own space. By the time the coffee was ready, Knox needed the distraction.
Dominic set the mug on the counter and Knox crossed over, wrapping both hands around the warmth of it.
“Are you always up this early?” he asked. Mostly to hear something other than his own heartbeat.
“Habit,” Dominic said, moving through the kitchen, pulling things from shelves. “Discipline starts early.”
Knox leaned his hip against the counter and forced himself to look casual, which was a tremendous amount of effort for something that should have been effortless.
The bruise on his cheek throbbed. A good reminder.
He’d called Dominic because he’d been running, and he hadn’t run far at all.
Just straight into a different kind of danger. One he understood considerably less.
A plate slid across the kitchen island toward him. Toast layered with avocado and cottage cheese, assembled without fanfare, without being asked.
“Eat,” Dominic said.
And Knox, without a single conscious thought behind it, said, “Yes, sir.”
Oh, no.
He heard it half a second after it left his mouth. Felt the back of his neck go hot.
Dominic’s hand stilled near his plate. Just a subtle interruption in motion. His eyes came up slowly, and whatever moved through them was far from neutral. The air in the room changed the way it did right before a storm. That specific drop in pressure.
Knox’s heartbeat was very loud.
Dominic didn’t comment. He held Knox’s gaze a moment longer than necessary, then simply resumed eating—composed enough to make Knox feel like the only one affected.
Knox lifted his toast and took a bite, barely tasting it at first. Then he did: salt, cream, and somehow comforting enough to make him pause.
Dominic had made him breakfast.
Just put food in front of him without asking. Without making a thing of it. Like it was obvious someone should. Knox couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Not since he’d been old enough to pour his own cereal. After that, it had been self-service or nothing.
The realization lodged under his ribs. He took another bite before it could become anything worse.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Not awkward, just heavy with everything unsaid. Knox kept his eyes on his plate, though Dominic’s presence across from him was impossible to ignore.
Knox cleared his throat. “So. What’s on the agenda today?”
“You’re going back with Mendez.” Dominic rose, carrying his plate to the sink. “I want you watching how product moves once it leaves port jurisdiction. Routes. Timing. Who handles what.”
Knox looked at him. “Why?” he asked.
Dominic glanced over his shoulder. “Why what?”
“Why do you care if I see all that?” He was sure most of Dominic’s people didn’t see beyond their assignments.
Drivers drove. Warehouse guys moved product.
Supervisors handled numbers. Layers existed for a reason, and most people in Dominic’s operation never saw beyond theirs. Which meant the question wasn’t naive.
Silence expanded between them.
Knox straightened. “You’ve got guys who’ve been with you for years. So why me? I’m just a twenty-two year old you barely know.”
Dominic turned and leaned back against the counter, studying Knox with that particular kind of attention that felt like being taken apart. “A lot of my people are replaceable,” he said at last.
Knox absorbed that without flinching. It wasn’t cruel. It was simply how Dominic saw the world: pieces on a board, moved when necessary.
“And I’m not?” he asked.
Dominic’s gaze changed. “No,” he said. “You’re not like the others.
I have enough men who follow instructions.
What I don’t have enough of are men who think.
You see patterns before they’re spelled out.
You measure consequences before you act.
” A pause. “That kind of thinking belongs closer to the center.”
Knox’s pulse stuttered. “So that’s why you’re pushing me deeper?”
“That’s why I’m not limiting you,” Dominic corrected. “I invest in longevity. In people who can grow with me.”
Knox shook his head once. “You say that like it’s already decided.”
“It will be,” Dominic said. “If you prove me right.”
The words weren’t kind or cruel; they were an invitation and a challenge wrapped in one.
“That’s a lot of expectation.”
“Yes,” Dominic said simply. He held Knox’s gaze a beat too long. Long enough that it stopped feeling like business. Long enough that Knox’s chest did that inconvenient thing.
Then Dominic stepped back, breaking the tension. “Finish your food,” he said. “Then shower. Car’s downstairs in fifteen.”
Knox blinked a few times. “Right.”
Dominic picked up his coffee and didn’t look at him again.