Page 81 of Knox's Boy

"Like a submissive in a structured dynamic," I snapped, slamming my mug down hard enough that coffee sloshed overthe rim, staining the wood. “I also have my car. I could sell it… and to be honest, this is a fucked-up thought. God, Luna, why can't you just be happy for me? I was sleeping in a shelter a few months ago. I was eating vending machine crackers for dinner. Now I'm safe. I'm loved. I'm thriving."

"You look healthy. Your clothes are expensive. But you also look… like a prize poodle."

"I'm happy," I said. "Maybe it looks messed up from the outside, but it works for me. A lot of stable, happy couples depend on each other too. If things ended, they'd have to start from scratch just like I would. That doesn't automatically make it abusive."

Luna sighed, a long, ragged sound, and slumped back in her chair. She pushed her glasses up again, her shoulders dropping. "I'm just scared, Flo. I'm scared that one day I'm going to call you, and the number will be disconnected. Or I'll show up at that gate and be turned away by security."

"That won't happen," I promised, reaching across the table to grip her hand. Her fingers were cold, her skin rougher than mine now. "He's not isolating me. He encourages me to see friends. He wants me to finish school."

"So he says," she muttered, but she didn't pull her hand away.

"You don't even know him, Lu," I said softly. "You're judging a ghost story you've built in your head. But he's real. And he's… he's good. He held me while I cried about Finn. He paid Finn's hospital bills even after my dad threatened to sue him."

Luna's eyes widened. "Your dad did what?"

I waved a hand, realizing I'd opened a door I didn't want to walk through. "It doesn't matter. Knox handled it. He protectedme. That's who he is. He didn't need to do any of that. I have nothing to give him back. Think about it, he could have anyone he wanted, and yet, he chooses me."

We sat in silence for a long moment, the cafe bustling around us.

"Okay," Luna said finally, withdrawing her hand to pick up her mug. "Okay. I'm trying, Flo. I really am. But if he hurts you…"

"He won't."

"If he does," she continued, her voice fierce, "I will burn that fortress to the ground. I don't care how many security guards he has."

I managed a smile. "I know you would, Blue."

"Tell me about the pasta you ate there," she commanded, visibly shifting gears, though the tension still hummed.

"I ate my weight in gelato," I said, grateful for the truce.

***

Back home, the kitchen was chaos. A bouquet of fresh basil lay on the cutting board, scenting the air. On the stove, a pot of reduction simmered, releasing steam that smelled of balsamic and shallots. My mouth was watering.

I stood at the island, tasked with slicing cherry tomatoes. My knife skills were improving under Knox's help, but tonight my rhythm was off.

Knox stood beside me, searing scallops in a cast-iron pan. He had shed his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing the strong, tanned forearms that I often daydreamed about while sitting in boring lectures. He looked relaxed, the master of his domain.

"You’re quiet tonight," he observed. "Did the coffee date with Luna not go well?"

I paused, the knife hovering over a particularly plump tomato. I could lie. I could say it was fine, that we talked about the weather and midterms. But the rules, honesty, transparency, were ingrained in me now. And more than that, Iwantedto tell him. I hated holding secrets, and I just wanted him to hold me after and say it's alright.

"It was… intense," I admitted, setting the knife down. I turned the tomato over with my thumb. "She's worried. About us."

Knox flipped a scallop with easy movements. "Worried in what capacity?"

"The usual," I said, trying to keep my tone light but failing. "She thinks I'm being exploited. She gave me a lecture on financial independence and… money and coercion. She… thinks you're keeping me like a pet. But not in a good, kinky way."

I risked a glance at him. Knox didn't stiffen. He didn't look angry or disappointed. He just reached for the glass of white wine sitting near the stove, took a sip, and hummed thoughtfully.

"She sounds like a good friend," he said.

I blinked, my mouth falling open slightly. "What?"

Knox turned to face me, leaning his hip against the counter. The warmth of the stove radiated behind him. "She cares about your well-being. She sees a situation that looks risky from the outside, and, statistically, she isn't wrong to be concerned, and she's brave enough to confront you about it. That speaks to her loyalty."

"You're… you're not mad? Or… or upset…?" I asked, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.