Page 3 of Knox's Boy

"I'm twenty-one. I have ID. I’m not lying."

"I don't need your ID, Florian."

He used my real name, the one I’d foolishly given him in our message exchange after he asked for it. He said he demanded to know the truth before meeting me, and if I lied, we wouldn’t be meeting. So, I told him. And he told me his own real name. He said he never lied about these things. And I trusted him, I didn’t know why.

"I need to know if you're capable of understanding the arrangement."

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Dominant," I snapped, the bratty tone slipping out before I could check it. It was my armor, I knew it, but couldn’t stop. "I know how this works. You pay, I... provide company. Whatever you want."

Knox’s expression didn't change, but a tiny spark lit up in his dark eyes. Amusement? Or was it satisfaction?

“NotwhateverI want. You're entitled to your hard limits,” he said, almost like a teacher lecturing a silly student. I rolled my eyes and, this time, I saw the smirk playing on his lips. So, he enjoyed it when I was a brat. I wasn’t the biggest brat to exist, but I did enjoy pushing some buttons.And I desperately wanted him to have a good time, even now.

“I know, Mr. Dom,” I said, playing along.

He just kept the smirk. “You'll be calling me other things soon, but, for now, feel free to call me by my name.”

“What if I don't want to call you by your name?” I teased. He raised an eyebrow, clearly vibing with me. It fed me: his attention, the unspoken challenge in his gaze. How fucking gorgeous he was. I could feel the brat in me waking up, hungry for more of this game, for his approval. Just knowing I could get a rise out of him, even a tiny spark, made me want to test him again, to see how far I could go.

“Then, you'll call me Daddy,” he said.

And just like that, I was suddenly speechless. My mouth went dry. I’d heard it used before, online, and in half-joking texts with guys who barely knew me, but coming from him, in that low, unyielding tone, it felt different. It was a command, not a request. I felt heat rush up my neck, embarrassment, and something twisting in my gut. Daddy. The word tasted forbidden, and yet, God help me, I wanted to say it. I wanted to see what it would do to him, to me. For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him, every smart retort I might’ve had suddenly wiped from my mind.

But he didn't wait. He chuckled, a low growl, reached into his suit pocket, and withdrew a heavy cream-colored business card, sliding it across the laminate table with two fingers.

"My address," he said. "Tomorrow evening at seven. We'll discuss the specifics of the terms there. You will be punctual."

I stared at the card. It was minimalist, just a name, Robert Knox, and an address in an exclusive part of the city, the kind of place where the driveways were heated, and the security guards carried guns.

"We're not discussing terms now?" I asked, confused. "I thought..."

"I don't conduct business in coffee shops surrounded by children," he interrupted, glancing at a group of sophomores arguing over a biology project nearby. He turned that intense gaze back to me, pinning me to the back of my chair. "And this is a business negotiation. Until it isn't."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the hot chocolate.

“And you told me you're an adult, right? You can handle a business negotiation, I believe.”

“Of course I can,” I said, blushing deeply again, and my tone didn't sound like I could handle anything at all. But I ignored it. Or, at least, I tried. He looked at me as if I were a scared kitten, though, and that evil smirk was back there.

“Good. So, it’s settled,” he said, close to getting up and leaving. But I couldn’t let him go just yet.

"Why do you do this?" I blurted out. It was the question plaguing me since his message. "You must have loads of boyswanting you. Why do you pay for random guys in an app like that?”

Knox leaned forward, just an inch. It made me stop breathing for a second.

“I don’t do this because I can’t find someone. I do it because I want honesty. No lies about what we want or why we’re here. I don’t have to pretend, and neither do you. It’s easy.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch, forcing me to sit in it. So, he really was just a rich guy who was buying me just as much as he bought designer clothes and sports cars.

"And because I like to play with boy toys who think they're tougher than they are."

The breath snagged in my lungs. The termboy toyshould have been demeaning. It should have made me grab my bag and storm out. But coming from him, delivered with that absolute confidence, it sent a shiver down my spine.

I opened my mouth to retort, to find some witty, biting comeback, but he was already moving. He stood up, buttoning his jacket. I almost begged him not to go. I didn't want him to go. He was addictive.

"Tomorrow. Seven," he repeated.

He placed a plain white envelope on the table next to the coffee he hadn't touched.