Page 21 of King of Violence

My stomach twists and the air suddenly feels too thick, but I force my expression to stay neutral. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Ben snorts. “Yeah, well, the thing about rumors is, they usually start from somewhere.” He tilts his head, his sharp brown eyes locking onto mine. “So? Were you?”

“Was I what? Fucking Julian at his party? No.”

“But are you dating him?” Ben insists.

I grab a bottle of water off the counter, twisting the cap harder than necessary, and take a long sip, using the motion to buy myself a few seconds to think. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s not a no.”

I sigh, leaning against the sink as I finally meet his gaze. “It’s not what you think.”

Ben doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he watches me with that infuriatingly patient look he’s perfected over the years. It’s the kind of look that says he already knows the answer, but is waiting for me to admit it myself.

“Okay,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer. “So tell me what it is. Because right now, it looks like my best friend—theguy who swore off getting involved with anyone, especially rich assholes—is…well, getting involved with a rich asshole.”

“It’s not like that,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. The words echo in the small bathroom, and I immediately regret them. “I mean...it’s not supposed to be.”

Ben’s expression shifts, his teasing demeanor fading into something gentler. “Felix,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat.

“Come on,” he presses. “Is it something serious? Or is this just some...distraction thing?”

“It’s not serious,” I say quickly, too quickly, and I can see the skepticism flash across his face. The words feel like a lie even as they leave my mouth. “I’m just...investigating something. Julian happens to be part of it.”

“Investigating?” Ben raises an eyebrow and leans in slightly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I’m not ‘involved’ with him,” I say defensively. “Not the way people are saying.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches unbearably for a moment. Then he tilts his head, his brow furrowing as he studies me.

“But you want to be.”

The statement isn’t a question, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. I flinch, and that’s all the confirmation Ben needs.

“Shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got it bad.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

I groan, pushing away from the counter and pacing the small space of the bathroom. “Even if I did—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter. He’s...Julian Greco. He’s everything I’ve spent my whole life avoiding.”

Ben’s gaze softens, his expression shifting into something more understanding. “Felix,” he says gently. “You’ve been through a lot, and I get why you don’t trust people easily. But if you’re this wound up about him...maybe there’s more to him than you think.”

His words cut through me, peeling back layers of defensiveness I didn’t even realize I’d put up.

“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, grabbing my water bottle and heading for the door.

“Felix.”

I stop in the doorway, my back to him, my hand gripping the frame so tightly my knuckles turn white.

“Just...be careful, okay?” Ben’s voice is earnest, and when I glance back at him, his expression matches it.

“I always am,” I say, but we both know that’s not entirely true.

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