Page 37 of Rebel Moon

“Thanks for this,” I said, carefully sitting in the other hardback chair across from him.

“No problem,” Rhett said.

I took a sip of coffee, only to look up to see Rhett’s gaze fixed upon me.

“What?” I asked.

“I saw Madeleine leaving your cabin at four in the morning,” Rhett said. “Which makes me wonder—what are you doing?”

“Doing?” I cursed silently. Why was he awake at four?

“C’mon, Knox. Madeleine?”

“She helped me back to my cabin. That’s it.”

“I saw the two of you at the bottom of the hill, all tangled up like a pretzel. Since when were you so friendly with the woman you supposedly despise?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like.”

I didn’t answer.

“Knox.” His jaw tensed “You realize what you’re doing? How stupid this is?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You sure about that?” Rhett asked.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. My business is my business.”

“Not when it comes to the band. This is family. And you don’t mess with family.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I glared at him.

“Doesn’t seem you do, what with her sneaking out of your cabin looking disheveled.”

I turned away from his scrutinizing gaze to look outside. The sky was steely gray, but yesterday’s snowfall had left the ranch covered in white.

“She may seem tough to you,” Rhett said softly. “But she bleeds just like the rest of us.”

“Your point?” My voice was as cold as the wintry day outside.

“You have absolutely no right to be messing with her. Is this some kind of Knox thing?”

I bristled. What did that mean? “Knox thing?”

“You know, where you just do whatever you want and refuse to answer to anyone for it. You’re careless. You know that. With hearts and feelings and anything you see as weakness. You’ve been attacking her for ten years and now suddenly she’s in your bed. The whole thing stinks, man. You better watch yourself or you’re going to cause a rift that might be impossible to fix.” He shook his head, blue eyes glittering. “Seriously, what are you doing? Trying to break down her defenses to prove a point?”

“What point would that be?” I asked.

“That even Madeleine Price will bend to your will. Is that the game you’re playing?”

Fury rose in me, hot and swift. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing a game.”

“She’s our publicist. She’s in every part of our lives. She’s Ivy’s best friend, for heaven’s sake. And when you discard her, she’ll still have to sit across a table from you and be fine about it, because that’s what she does. She’ll suck it up—just like she’s done for ten years—as you sit across the room and insult her for doing her job.” He looked at me hard. “Or what if she leaves and we lose her? This whole thing we built comes apart, because you got bored in Montana.”

Something in me snapped.