Chapter 32
Knox
The last three days had been insane. Everything blurred together—one decision bleeding into the next before he could prepare for it, before he could even finish processing the last one.
Men Knox had never seen before had shown up at the apartment, packed his things, carried boxes, and dismantled what little there was to take apart. It felt surreal, standing there while strangers handled pieces of his life like logistics.
But underneath the strangeness, there had been relief every time another box left the apartment like it didn't belong there anymore.
Like he didn’t belong there anymore.
It should’ve been harder. And maybe it was, just not in the way he expected.
He’d spent every visiting hour at the hospital. Whenever they let him in, he was there. The room was always the same—lights turned up higher than necessary, the kind of brightness that made everything feel clinical and exposed.
During some visits she talked about how she was feeling better. How it wasn’t as serious as it looked. Smoothing it over, making it smaller, the way she always did.
On other visits she didn’t talk at all. Those were worse. The silence would stretch, heavy and uncomfortable, filled with things neither of them said. Still, he stayed until the nurses told him time was up every single time.
And then there was the last visit. Dominic had come with him.
That alone had felt strange—Dominic in that room, under those lights, completely out of place and completely unbothered by it.
Knox had told her during that visit that he was moving out.
She hadn’t taken it well, her reaction a mix of disbelief and something she tried to twist into guilt.
Dominic had explained to her that there’d be a home nurse, daily visits to make sure she ate and took her medication, along with weekly pickups for the therapy appointments he had arranged.
When she tried to refuse, Dominic shut it down without raising his voice. “No isn’t an option,” he’d said, like it was already decided. “You’re done ruining your son’s life by ruining your own.”
Knox had sat there and said nothing and felt something crack open in his chest that he’d been holding shut for a very long time.
And if all of that hadn’t been enough to wear him down, there was the situation with Dominic. During the days, Dominic worked. Busy dealing with things Knox didn’t ask about—he couldn’t keep avoiding his responsibilities just to hold Knox’s hand.
But at night.
At night.
Every night, somehow, Knox ended up in Dominic’s bed.
It wasn’t something they talked about, it just…
happened. Dominic would pull him close, big arms wrapping around him, his body warm and solid at his back.
Close enough that Knox could feel Dominic’s breath against his neck.
Sometimes Dominic would murmur low in Knox’s ear and his skin would prickle and goosebumps would rise.
He never stayed awake long in his arms. Dominic made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. Which, given that the man in question was arguably the most dangerous person Knox had ever met, was absurd. But he didn’t question it. He didn’t want to.
That morning, Dominic had pressed the keys to his new apartment into his hand like it was nothing. No explanation, no buildup, just a steady, “It’s ready.” And then he’d left like he hadn’t just shifted Knox’s entire life with that simple sentence.
Knox hadn’t gone there right away. He’d taken one of Dominic’s cars to the hospital instead. He’d waited through the discharge process, signed papers, and listened to the instructions he already knew by heart. Then he’d helped his mom into the car and drove her home.
He’d made sure she was settled, gotten her inside, picked up her medication, and stocked the fridge with enough food for the next week. Everything she needed.
She hadn’t been grateful.
She’d been furious.
It hadn’t taken long before the yelling started. Accusations thrown at him like he’d done something wrong by leaving, by daring to choose himself for once.
He hadn’t fought back. Just made sure everything was in place and left. By the time he walked out, he felt drained all over again.
Now, he was standing in front of the door to his new apartment. Keys in hand, just one step away from opening it and crossing the threshold. It felt… unreal. He stared at the door for a moment, then exhaled and stepped inside.
Everything was done. Not just the furniture—everything. His clothes were put away, the kitchen stocked, his stuff arranged on shelves. Even the game console was hooked up to the TV.
Of course Dominic had taken care of everything. Because that was what Dominic did. He decided something should happen and then it happened; there was no gap between intention and execution. Knox was starting to understand that this was simply how the man operated.
He should have felt good. Relief. Gratitude. A fresh start. But after today—after his mom—all he felt was empty. The quiet settled fast, pressing in from all sides, and with it came that familiar heavy feeling. It crawled under his skin, spreading before he could stop it.
He knew this feeling. He knew exactly what he needed when it hit like this. Something strong enough to break through, to drag him out of the gray and make him feel alive again.
He needed Dominic.
He didn’t think about it any longer. His phone was already in his hand, thumbs hovering for half a second before he typed.
Me: Where are you?
The reply came almost instantly.
Dominic: Lucky Thirteen
Dominic’s casino. The same one Knox had been forced to prove himself trustworthy and useful. Where everything had started, or at least where he’d started to understand where everything was going.
His grip tightened around the phone. He grabbed the car keys Dominic had given him and headed straight for the door.
Everything could wait except the pull in his chest and the man on the other end of it.
* * *
The noise hit him before anything else. The click of chips, the murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from the bar.
Slot machines flashed and chimed beneath the warm glow of the casino lights.
Lucky Thirteen was packed, every table occupied, bodies moving through the space in a steady flow.
Knox didn’t focus on any of it. His gaze moved across the room. Searching.
Dominic stood near the back, talking to two men beside one of the high-roller tables. One hand rested loosely in his pocket, the other gesturing as he spoke, his attention fixed on the conversation. Dark suit, composed, in his element.
Knox didn’t slow down. He moved straight through the crowd, not caring who he brushed past, not caring who noticed. His attention didn’t shift once.
Dominic.
That was all that mattered.
He reached him within seconds, stepping into his space without hesitation. The two men paused mid-conversation, their attention flicking to Knox. He didn’t even acknowledge them. Didn’t even see them.
Dominic’s gaze snapped to him, confusion crossing his face. “Knox—”
Knox didn’t let him finish. He stepped closer, closing the last of the distance, one hand coming up to Dominic’s arm as he leaned in, mouth near his ear. “Can we go somewhere private?”
Dominic’s eyes moved over him, taking in more than Knox was comfortable with, before settling back on his face. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
Dominic held his gaze for another moment—then just as easily looked away again. “Then wait,” he said, turning back to the men. “I’m busy.”
Irritation flared under Knox’s skin. “I don’t want to wait.”
He heard it the second it left his mouth, how petulant and demanding he sounded. Like he had any right to say it.
He didn’t. Dominic didn’t owe him his attention. Had given him more than anyone ever had. But the gray was still there. Closing in. Dull and suffocating and pressing at the edges of everything, and Knox didn’t care how he sounded right now. He just needed it gone.
Dominic’s head tilted, attention shifting back. His eyes had gone colder now. “Behave,” he said, voice dropping enough to carry weight. “These are important men.”
Knox didn’t even look at them. Didn’t care who they were. Didn’t care what they wanted. “I need you.”
That did it.
Dominic’s attention locked onto him fully. “Need me for what exactly?”
Knox held his gaze, jaw tightening. It should have been easy to answer, but the words didn’t come. “You know.”
Dominic went still, his eyes darkening in a way Knox felt more than saw. His pulse kicked harder, breath catching, that flicker of relief starting to rise because Dominic understood, he always understood—
“Try again.”
Knox’s breath left him, frustration flaring, desperation pushing up behind it. He knew what Dominic was doing. Knew he wasn’t going to give him anything until he said it properly.
He hated how much he needed it anyway.
The words sat there, caught somewhere between his chest and his throat, harder to push out with Dominic watching him like that. Not offering an inch.
Silence stretched.
Dominic didn’t move. Didn’t soften. The air between them pulled tighter with every second, charged with an expectation Knox could feel in his bones.
“Don’t make me wait,” Dominic said, his eyes burning through him.
He felt the dominance in those words. They settled deep, dragged lower, took hold of his body before his brain could intervene.
His cock hardened and his mouth went dry.
The hesitation crumbled—crushed beneath the power of his voice.
He leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of Dominic’s ear.
“Please,” he whispered. “I need you to fuck me.”
There it was.
Dominic moved. His hand came up fast, gripping Knox’s jaw, turning his head to look at him fully. “My office,” he said. “Now.”
* * *