Page 83 of Knox's Boy

Knox stepped forward, extending a hand. "Luna. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Florian speaks of you constantly."

Luna studied him for a second, her gaze raking him from his silver-flecked hair to his expensive loafers. She shook his hand, her grip firm. "Knox. Thanks for having me."

"Please, come in. Let me take your jacket."

The tour was brief. I showed her the living room, the study, where she actually paused to touch the spine of a book, impressed despite herself, and finally led her to the dining room. The table was set for three, the lighting dim.

We started with appetizers, bruschetta with heirloom tomatoes and a balsamic glaze. Luna sat across from Knox, with me in the middle, feeling like the net on a tennis court.

She didn't wait for pleasantries. She picked up a piece of bruschetta, took a bite, swallowed, and then leveled her gaze at Knox.

"So," she said, wiping a crumb from her lip. "Why him?"

I choked on my water. Knox merely set his glass down gently.

"Excuse me?" Knox asked, polite.

"He's twenty-one," Luna said, gesturing at me with a crust of bread. "You're forty-eight. He's a student with no money and a history of trauma. You're a millionaire CEO boss, or whatever. On paper, this looks like a textbook mid-life crisis meets a predation opportunity. So, I'm asking you directly: Why Florian? What do you get out of this that you couldn't get from someone your own age who has their own 401k?"

I froze, horrified. "Luna!"

Knox held up a hand to silence me. He didn't look offended. He looked… thoughtful. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, meeting Luna's challenge head-on.

"That is a fair question," he said. The sincerity in his voice caught Luna off guard; she blinked. "I didn't set out to find someone of Florian's age. I wasn't looking for a 'boy' to fix. We met casually."

He glanced at me, a flicker of that shared memory passing between us, before returning his gaze to Luna.

"My life, Luna, was exceptionally orderly. It was successful. Sterile. Empty. Boring. I had acquaintances, partners, colleagues, but very little genuine connection."

He reached out for the water pitcher. Without breaking eye contact with Luna, he refilled my glass, which was only half empty. It was a reflexive motion. Luna's eyes tracked the movement.

"Florian," Knox continued, "is vibrant in a way I had forgotten existed. He is resilient. He challenges me. He makes me laugh. He needs me, yes, he needs support, but I need him just as much. He gives me purpose. He allows me to care for him, andin doing so, he heals parts of me I didn't know were broken. He doesn't want my money or my success. He doesn't care if I'm not perfect all the time. And in my tax bracket… You have to be perfect. All the time."

Luna chewed on her lip, her skepticism warring with the raw honesty of his answer. "You know he's vulnerable," she pressed, though her voice had lost some of its edge. "You know that if you get bored, he's the one who ends up on the street."

"I am aware of that," Knox said. "Which is why I take my responsibility to him with absolute seriousness. He is not a pastime. He is my partner. And I intend to ensure his future is secure, regardless of what happens to me."

I watched Luna. I saw the tension in her shoulders drop an inch. She looked from Knox to me, seeing the way I was looking at him, like he had hung the moon and the stars just for us.

"He really does refill your water without you asking," she murmured, almost to herself.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, picking up her fork again. She looked at Knox. "Okay. The bruschetta is good. Did you make it?"

"I did," Knox said, a small smile on his lips. "With Florian's help. He's becoming quite the sous-chef."

By the time the tiramisu arrived, the dining room felt less tense. The dessert was a masterpiece: mascarpone cream, dusted with cocoa powder that smelled dark and rich.

Luna was still on it, though, even if she was less aggressive now. She turned back to Knox. "Let me ask you somethingpersonal. If you had a regular, average salary, would you still be together?"

Knox considered this, not flinching. "I believe so. I wouldn't be able to show him the world in quite the same way, but I would still want to show him every bit of it that I could."

“What about if you two were the same age?” she kept the interrogation going. I just wished she'd grow tired of it by now. “What about the boy and age gap kink?”

“Yes, of course,” Knox said. “Roleplaying is still a thing. Even if he weren't younger, he could still play as a boy, if he wanted to.”

Luna took a bite and groaned, her eyes rolling back. "Okay," she mumbled around the spoon. "I might be willing to sell my soul for this. Just a little bit." I sighed, relieved. She was warming up to this.