Page 8 of The Chains that Bind
Knox
She wears a wedding dress,now crumpled and askew, that cost more than what most people make in three months. In my arms, Seraphina feels lighter than I remember, as if the months away from me have somehow diminished her. That will change. I'll make sure of it. I carry her through the VIP entrance of my building to where my private jet waits, the pilot already notified of our imminent departure. She struggles against me, but it's halfhearted now, the fire temporarily banked by that kiss on the rooftop. Good. Let her remember what it feels like to be wanted by a man who doesn't ask permission to take what belongs to him.
"Where are you taking me now?" she demands, voice caught between outrage and resignation. "Haven't you caused enough damage for one day?"
"Not nearly enough," I reply, nodding to the security team that parts before us like the Red Sea. Every person in my employ knows better than to question me, especially today. The momentI decided to reclaim what's mine, I set dozens of wheels in motion with a single text to my head of security:
Retrieving Seraphina. Clear all obstacles.
"You have a private jet waiting," she observes as we emerge onto the rooftop runway attached to my building. Not a question. She remembers my methods, my resources. "Knox, this is insane. Even for you."
I set her down only when we reach the stairs to the aircraft, keeping one hand firmly wrapped around her wrist. She looks around wildly, as if searching for escape, but there's nowhere to run at thirty stories up, no one to call for help on a private landing strip staffed exclusively by my people.
"Where are we going?" she tries again, digging in her heels as I guide her up the steps.
"Home," I answer simply.
Her wedding dress—a monstrosity of silk and crystals that should only have been worn for me—catches on the doorframe of the jet. Without hesitation, I rip the fabric, tearing away a swath of material to free her. The sound of expensive silk giving way is intensely satisfying.
"Knox!" She gasps, clutching at the torn section. "This dress cost?—"
"I don't care if it cost more than the jet," I interrupt, ushering her inside the cabin. "You won't need it where we're going, and I’ll be damned if I let you wear a dress you intended for another man,” I hiss, sudden anger boiling inside me.
The interior gleams with polished mahogany and butter-soft leather, the Vance Technologies logo embossed on every surface, a constant reminder of the empire I've built. I push her gently but firmly into a seat and buckle her in myself, my fingers lingering against the slender curve of her waist.
"Your island," she whispers, realization dawning in those wide green eyes. "You're taking me to your private island."
I smile, pleased she remembers. "Our island now."
The engines roar to life, drowning out whatever retort she was formulating. I take the seat across from her, not beside her—I want to watch her face, catalog every expression as she processes what's happening. eighteen months is a long time to go without studying the face that's haunted my dreams. She's thinner than she was, the elegant bones of her cheeks more pronounced, slight shadows beneath her eyes suggesting she hasn't been sleeping well.
Good. She shouldn't sleep well without me.
"You won't get away with this," she says when the noise level drops enough for conversation. "People saw you take me. The press?—"
"Will report exactly what my media team tells them to report," I finish for her, accepting a glass of scotch from the attendant who materializes at my elbow. "Something romantic, I think. 'Tech Billionaire Reunites with True Love in Dramatic Fashion.' The public loves a grand gesture."
"It wasn't a grand gesture. It was an abduction!" But even as she protests, I see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. She knows how this works, how the story will be spun. In a world where money talks, mine screams.
"Would you like a different dress?" I ask, deliberately changing the subject. "I have several options on board. Unless you'd prefer to stay in those rags, as a reminder of the mistake I saved you from making."
Her fingers twist the torn silk in her lap. "I chose this dress. I wanted to wear it. For my wedding day. Which you ruined."
I snort. “ You hate that dress.” She looks away because she knows I’m right. I know what Seraphina likes, and she never would have picked this monstrosity. “You chose it because it wasexpected," I counter, taking a slow sip of scotch, savoring the burn. "Just like you chose him because he was expected. Safe. Appropriate. Everything I'm not."
The jet taxis down the runway, gathering speed. Seraphina stares out the window, watching Manhattan shrink beneath us, but I keep my eyes on her. Memorizing the way the fading sunlight glints off her honey-blonde hair, the perfect curve of her profile, the stubborn set of her jaw. Mine. All mine.
"The island is three hours away," I inform her once we reach cruising altitude. "Why don't you change? Rest. You've had an eventful day."
She turns those green eyes on me, and for a moment I glimpse the vulnerability beneath her anger. "Knox...what do you want from me? Really?"
"Everything," I answer without hesitation. "I want everything, Seraphina. I always have. The difference is this time, I'm not letting you run away when it gets too intense."
"So what, you're going to keep me prisoner on your island?" Her laugh holds no humor. "For how long?"
"Until you accept what we both know is true." I lean forward, reducing the space between us. "That you're mine. That you've always been mine. That walking away from what we had was the biggest mistake of your life."
"And if I never accept that?" she challenges, chin lifted in that defiant pose I've missed more than I care to admit.
