Page 53 of If He Hadn't Cheated
I stiffen. “Sebastian, stop?—”
Knox stands. The air shifts. Thickens.
“You knew how I felt about her,” Knox says, voice low and lethal. “You knew it in high school. And you still went after her.”
Sebastian laughs bitterly. “She chose me.”
I look between them. Shock running through my veins like a line of coke.
“No,” Knox says quietly. “She settled for you.”
Sebastian lunges forward, fist tightening, but Knox grabs his wrist mid-swing, stopping him cold.
“Leave her alone,” Knox growls. “For good.”
People are staring. The waiters are all staring with mouths agape. The manager is on the phone. Probably calling the cops.
I stand. “Knox,” I whisper, “please.”
He lets Sebastian go but steps in front of me protectively.
Sebastian’s eyes flick between us, anger, jealousy, something wounded. Then he spits, “You’ll regret this.”
And he storms out.
My knees almost give out the second he’s gone. Knox pulls me into his arms instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
I hold onto him, inhaling his scent, feeling his heartbeat against mine.
But beneath the fear, beneath the shock…something else settles in my chest.
Knox defended me.
Chose me.
Claimed me
And I’m terrified of how much that means.
27
The next morning feels heavier than the night before, like the city itself woke up remembering the confrontation. Last night, I slept in Knox’s bed. He made love to me. He held me. He watched me until I drifted off to sleep.
The office buzzes with whispers, quiet glances that flicker my way, then toward Knox’s closed office door. People definitely know something happened.
I keep my head down, bury myself in work, shut out everything except my laptop screen. But even focusing feels impossible when every nerve in my body is tuned to one frequency…him.
Eventually, he appears in my doorway after he disappeared in his office since we arrived. No knock. No hesitation. Just Knox, filling my space with his quiet gravity.
“Walk with me,” he murmurs.
I follow him to the rooftop terrace, an empty space of concrete and steel with a view of the skyline. The Seattle morning breeze is cool. It calms me just enough to find my voice.
“Everyone knows,” I whisper.
“They don’t know anything,” he says. “They’re just curious.”
