Page 51 of Knox's Boy

"Because I am the one paying his bills," Knox said evenly. "My information is on his admission forms."

"You're paying for him to harass you," I choked out, feeling the absurdity of it. "You're paying thousands of dollars for the privilege of being threatened by my father."

"I am paying to keep him contained," Knox corrected, taking a step toward me.

I backed away. I hit the island counter, trapped. "I'm just a burden," I whispered, the words tumbling out. "That's all I am. A stray you picked up off the street like a puppy. I live in your house, I eat your food, I spend your money, and in return? I bring you lawsuits and psychopaths."

"Florian, stop."

"I give you nothing!" I said, tears spilling over. "I have nothing to give! I'm just a drain on your life. You should have left me at the shelter. You should just... cut me loose before I ruin everything."

Knox moved. He crossed the kitchen fast. He didn't grab me; he enveloped me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me hard against his chest, crushing the breath out of me in the best way possible.

"Silence," he commanded, his voice rough with emotion. "Do not ever speak about yourself that way again."

I tried to push him away, my hands bunching in the silk of his robe. "It's true..."

"It is a lie," he growled. He pulled back just enough to frame my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were burning,intensely. "You think this is a transaction? You think I am keeping a ledger? You foolish boy."

His thumbs wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I told you so many times before. My life was gray before you," he whispered fiercely. "It was orderly and successful and completely empty. You brought color back into my world. You brought chaos, yes, but you brought life. Coming home to you, caring for you, watching you thrive... that is the only payment I will ever require."

"But Finn..."

"Finn is a mosquito," Knox said dismissively. "I am a mountain. He cannot move me. And he certainly cannot make me regret you. I care so little about him that I don’t even consider him a threat. I don’t even remember he exists. My team is handling him just like they handle other nuisances for me."

I stared at him, stunned by how convinced he sounded. He wasn’t just saying it. He believed it, absolutely. I wanted to believe him. I wanted, more than anything for it to be true.

He pressed his forehead to mine, and for a moment his voice was just a breath. "I will not lose you to his poison. I will not lose you to your own doubts. You are the most precious thing in my world, Florian. I would raze cities for you. Do you understand?"

I did. I did, but it was too much, all at once, and the part of me that had been starving for this kind of unconditional care started to scream.

I clung to him then, holding on so tight that my knuckles ached. I sobbed, ugly, heaving gasps. He didn't shush me or try to hush the tears away. He just held me, his hand braced at the nape of my neck, his lips pressed into my hair.When I finallystuttered into silence, he pulled back and cupped my cheek. "Do you believe me?" he asked.

I nodded, shaky. "I want to," I whispered.

"Then do." His thumb traced under my eye, gentle. "Let the man who failed you burn in hell. I would see him there myself, but I think watching you thrive will be a punishment far greater than anything I could inflict."

I snorted a desperate laugh, and the panic receded a little. I could breathe.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then another, softer, beneath my eye. "Never doubt for a second that you belong here," he said. "You are not my burden. You are my reason."

I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to say it in a thousand languages, to tattoo it on every inch of my skin, to scream it loud enough to drown out my father’s voice forever. Instead, I just nodded and let myself be held.

"Go shower," Knox said, after a while. His voice was steadier, back to its calm authority. "I’ll make you breakfast again. Today is a fresh start."

Chapter 24. Knox

I felt the change when I stepped home. For days, the house had been quiet. Tonight, there was warmth. The foyer lights glowed, and music played.

"Florian?" I called, slipping out of my coat and draping it over my arm.

The scent of something cooking drifted from the kitchen: garlic, butter, herbs. Mrs. Gable had left hours ago. My boy was cooking. This squeezed something in my chest.

Then he appeared. He was beautiful. Florian wore a pair of faded jeans, torn at the knees, and one of my sweaters, the sleeves rolled up. His hair was tousled, mussed, and styled. His cheeks held color, his blue eyes were clear and bright, his lips curved in a hint of that mischief I'd been starving for.

"Daddy! You're home early!" he exclaimed.