Page 71 of Knox's Boy

The first-class lounge was another planet. Polished wood, velvet chairs, soft lighting. I tried to look unimpressed, but Knox's smirk said he saw right through me. I hung back as he checked us in, watching him trade a few words with the staff. People changed course for him. Even the lounge attendant, a woman who looked as though she ran marathons for fun, seemed a little flustered by his attention.

And he was all mine.

We sat in a corner booth and a suited man materialized with a tray: two glasses of champagne, strawberries, fancy cheese, and a stack of tiny pastries so perfect I didn't want to touch them. I touched them anyway, because I was starving. I bit into a croissant so buttery it collapsed, flakes sticking to my lips, while I tried not to let it go all over the floor. Knox watched, one eyebrow arched, lips twitching at the corners.

"Enjoying yourself, little one?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and popped another piece of croissant in my mouth. "It's not bad," I said with an exaggerated shrug, "if you're into, like, perfect food or whatever."

He chuckled but then gave me a look of mock severity. "Try to contain your enthusiasm."

I grinned and washed the croissant down with a gulp of champagne. The bubbles went straight to my head, relaxing the knot of anxiety between my shoulders, and I rotated my neck to try to make it stop aching.

The flight itself was ridiculous. Our seats were more like little rooms: leather recliners that reclined all the way, walls high enough to block out the other passengers, actual bedding, and a menu with five courses. I looked around, half expecting to see a celebrity, but the other passengers were just… people. Older, quieter, dressed in the kind of clothing you don't buy at the mall. I told myself not to stare and failed spectacularly. I kept asking myself how come some people had so much money, and others had nothing? But I told myself I also deserved nice things. At least, Daddy told me I did, and I had to be a good boy and listen.

Knox settled in next to me, his laptop open but ignored. He had changed into a soft navy pullover. I pretended to be engrossed in my phone, scrolling my feed, but I didn't care about it. Every time I glanced up, he was watching me. Not just looking. He had a full-on, undistracted gaze that made me squirm in my seat.

"Do you remember your first flight?" he asked at one point, as the attendants came by with warm towels.

I shook my head. "No. I think Finn forgot to buy me a seat, so I sat on his or mom’s lap the whole time and cried the whole way. He lost me at the Houston airport on the layover. I got a free soda from the gate agent."

"That's horrifying," Knox said, but I could tell he was more amused than scandalized.

"Yeah, well, the soda was good," I said. "I think it was the best part of that year."

He looked at me and reached for my hand.

"We'll make better memories this time," he promised.

I didn't know how to answer, so I just nodded, watching the clouds smear across the window.

Halfway through the flight, after the second round of champagne and the second movie, I kicked off my shoes and curled up under the blanket. I was fighting sleep, determined to make the most of every minute, but Knox reached over and put a hand on my knee. “You can rest, you know. You don’t have to stay up just to prove some point about being a grown-up.”

It was so gentle, I felt my cheeks go hot. "I'm not tired," I protested, then yawned.

He laughed, low and quiet. "Come here."

He moved into my suite and tugged me over by the elbow, so my head rested against his chest. I fit there perfectly, like I was made for that exact spot. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I let myself relax against him.

I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, the lights were dimmed and he was stroking my hair, his fingers threading gently through the tangles behind my ear.

“We're starting our descent,” Knox murmured. I glanced at my watch. "You've been dead to the world for three hours. I was about to check your pulse."

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn't mean to sleep.”

“Don't apologize, you silly little boy,” he said, gently. “You look adorable like this.”

The approach to Naples was as spectacular as promised. We dropped through a layer of clouds, and suddenly the sea was everywhere, blue and sparkling, dotted with white sails and the faint outline of distant cliffs. I pressed my face to the window, not caring if I looked childish.

We breezed through customs, another private lane, another smiling attendant, and a black sedan was already waiting on the tarmac.

The driver introduced himself as Matteo, and he drove like he was auditioning for Formula One, weaving through traffic and honking at mopeds that appeared out of nowhere. I clung to the leather door handle and tried to play it cool.

The city was like a painting. Laundry hung from windows, vespas zipped between cars. Knox watched me instead of thescenery, his arm draped across the back seat, his gaze as steady as always.

“You're in love already,” he said.

“Hell yes,” I said. He chuckled. When we broke out of the city and started winding up the coastal road, I couldn't help myself, I bounced in my seat, my breath fogging the glass as I swiveled my head trying to see everything at once. My knees kept bouncing until Knox placed a steadying hand on my thigh, but even that couldn't stop me from pointing and gasping at each new vista of cliffs, lemon groves, and sea so blue it looked painted.