Page 15 of Beauty and her Billionaire Beast
7
Isabelle
This must be what hell islike.
I’m sure ofit.
Ten years passed and I didn’t see Knox’s face. Not even onetime.
I let my guard down, let him fuck me one time—just once, and since that night after I bolted, I see him everywhere. Every. Damn.Place.
It’s been a weekand this is the fourth time I’ve laid eyes on him. Each of the last three times, I managed to dodge being seen. Like over lunch on Saturday when he sat outside a bistro near his condo, having coffee with Foster. That time, I was out for a run, so I quickly crossed the street and doubled back, taking a different route to avoid him. Then three days ago, on my way into the office, I saw him jumpout of his limo to head into Steele Industries’ corporate head office. I turned up an alleyway to ensure we wouldn’t cross paths. And last night, well at least last night I was on a local bus when I saw him walking outside hiscondo.
It’s hell. A nightmare.Torture.
I think that’s why I bit the bullet just now when I caught sight of him outside the very same restaurant where my fathermade dinner reservations. Maybe if I face the music, face him head on, then the Gods of bad decisions will allow me to redeem myself so that I can finally stop seeing him everywhere Igo.
Unless I move to the other side of the country like my sister, Bethanydid.
But seeing him tonight is different. This time, his composure is off. When I meet his eyes, he looks shell-shocked. Andnot because of what I did to him last week, either. Something is going on. I got the sense that he was about to tell me something but stopped when he realized my parents were with me. It’ll be a relief if that’s the case and he’s still open to confiding in me. It’ll mean that our one casual hookup and the ten years he went silent didn’t permanently ruin our friendship. If we do manage to steal amoment alone tonight, I plan to findout.
I don’t want to be forced to turn and run every time we bump into each other. I need to make it right. I want my friendback.
On my father’s request, a server pushes a table next to the one where Knox and his grandfather are seated, making room for the three of us. Dad pulls out the chair beside Knox and motions for me to sit beside him.Okay, fine by me. This can work, even though I can tell that Dad has other ulterior motives. What he wouldn’t give to hook me up with one of New York’s elite families. Whatever. I’m just thankful he doesn’t know about our one-night stand. I wouldn’t hear the end ofit.
“You’ve made some good strides since you won,” Mr. Steele tells my father as they continue their small talk. “Being a senatorsuitsyou.”
I brace for him or Dad to walk down memory lane and mention the tremendous amount of campaign support that came from the Knox’s family by way of monetary contributions. Dad brings it up every time the Steele name comes up in conversation. Mr. Steele smiles politely, but he doesn’t seem too interested in the topic. He and Knox aren’t talking much at all tonight. I get the impressionthat we—we as in my father—butted into their evening out at the least convenienttime.
“What have you been up to, Morris? It’s been ages since we sat down likethis.”
At Dad’s question, Knox’s hand tightens into a fist on his lap. It’s not a typical reaction to such a general question, and it doesn’t appear to have any effect on Mr. Steele, who has warmth in his eyes as he chatswith Mom and Dad. Paying no attention to their conversation, I let my gaze move up to Knox’s face and know for sure there’s a lot more at play here. He’s tense, agitated. Without thinking, I’m subtle as I rest my hand on top of his clenched fist. No one around the table notices, as Knox and I are on one side of the joined table, Dad and Mr. Steele are on the other side, and Mom’s next to Dad, withher body more or less rotated toward Dad. Knox doesn’t flinch or react negatively to my touch, and after a few moments, he opens his hand and turns his palm to mine, lacing our fingers together. There’s no doubt in my mind now that his mood has nothing to do with me. His willingness to accept my show of emotional support is proofenough.
But if it isn’t about me, what the hell is goingon?
I don’t want to wait any longer to pull Knox aside and get to the bottom of what’s going on. He’s hurting. It’s no smallthing.
“Are you still planning to come to my Fourth of July party?” Mr. Steele asks myparents.
I’m not sure why, but his question gets my attention. Both our families used to celebrate that long weekend together every year when Knox and I were younger,and after Knox’s parents passed, Morris kept up the tradition. But everything changed after Knox went off to college. I haven’t spent time in the Hamptonssince.
“Of course,” Dad says. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything. Any invite to get out of the city for that long weekend is a welcome one.” He turns to Mom. “It’ll save us a three-hour trip to our cottage in the Poconos, wouldn’t ithoney?”
She gives an animated nod. “It’ll be fabulous. We’ll bethere.”
Considering that I haven’t been to one of these weekends in years, I’m not sure whether or not to assume I’m included in the invite. I’m not about to hold my breath for oneeither.
“Great,” Morris says, picking up his menu. “Looking forward to seeing you all there.” He turns his face and meets my eyes.“Maybe this’ll be the year you’ll start coming again,Isabelle?”
So much for not holding mybreath.
I glance over at Knox next to me, hoping for some signal as to whether he can bear having me around for an entire weekend. We may have had a casual hookup, and he may be okay with holding my hand for a few minutes, but that in no way means our friendship is back to where it used tobe. I have no idea where we stand. “Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Steele. I’ll have to check my calendar and let youknow.”
“Sounds great. You’re more than welcome, so even if you can’t now, and plans change for you on the weekend, just come ondown.”
“I appreciatethat.”
The server arrives to take our orders, and once he leaves our tables, Dad and Mr. Steele resume theirtalk. They delve into the usual, business, politics, world events, updates about the families in their circle of friends, and the like. Knox hasn’t let go of myhand,
