Page 16 of Keep Me Close

And yet…

Before I can snap out a response, the receptionist at the front desk waves me over. “Miss…?” She glances at the computer. “Ms. Scott? A delivery just arrived for you.”

“For me?” My brows pinch together as my belly dips. “Are you sure?”

She glances at her computer screen again. “Anna Scott? Room 608, right?”

I checked in under a fake name. Not because it’s cute or clever. But because living under this kind of microscope teaches you early on that privacy is mostly an illusion, and aliases are one of the few things that still feel like an extra layer of protection.

My steps slow. “Yup.” I clear my throat as Knox side-eyes me. “That would be me.”

The receptionist hands over a large arrangement of blood-red roses. There must be at least two dozen of them with lots of greens and baby’s breath.

My heart sinks as I stare at the flowers. Before I even glance at the card, I know who they’re from. I don’t realize my hands are shaking until I pluck the envelope from the arrangement and try opening it. When I fumble the flap for a third time, Knox wraps his fingers around mine, giving them a gentle squeeze.

My gaze darts to him in surprise.

“Let me do it.”

Instead of arguing, I jerk my head in a tight nod as he carefully opens the envelope, and we peer at the card.

We’re soulmates, Chey. There’s nowhere you can run I won’t find you. —D

For just a second, the noise in the lobby disappears and I have the strangest sensation of being underwater where everything sounds far away. All I see is the neat handwriting that swims in front of my eyes. The freedom I felt just ten minutes ago vanishes so completely, it’s as if it never existed.

“He knows you’re here,” Knox mutters. “And he’s obviously aware of your alias.”

“I—” My mouth turns bone dry. “It’s the one I always use when checking into hotels. It’s Julia Roberts’s character from Notting Hill.” My brows furrow. “I don’t understand how he found me so quickly.”

With a scowl, Knox stares at the roses. “Pack your bags.”

I blink, thrown off by the comment. “What?”

“You’re not safe here.”

“Knox—”

“I’m not going to argue about this, Chey.” He holds up the card. “You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and he already found you.”

I glance at the flowers and then the note. My hands won’t stop shaking. More than that, I hate that Knox is seeing just how bad the situation has become.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not.”

I shift, searching for an alternative. “Maybe I⁠—”

“Pack your bags, Hollywood. That’s what’s happening.”

There’s no arguing with his gruff tone. What makes even less sense is that standing next to a vase overflowing with unwanted roses, my ex’s note clutched in my hand, Knox feels like the safest option.

With a swallow, I nod. “Okay.”

6

Knox

The elevator ride up to Cheyenne’s hotel suite is made in silence. I can’t stop staring at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Beneath the flush of her cheeks from her run, she’s pale, and her brow is furrowed with concern.