Page 68 of Knot My Type

"Not really," Fen assures me quickly. "Mostly it's paperwork and planning. Risk assessment, security protocol development, training programs for corporate clients. The actual dangerous stuff is rare."

"But it exists," I press, because I need to understand what I'm signing up for, what kinds of risks come with loving these men.

"It exists," Rhys admits. "But we're not cowboys, Eliana. We don't take unnecessary risks, and we don't take jobs that put us or our family in danger."

Family. The word hits me like a warm wave, settling into my chest with the weight of promise and belonging.

"Besides," Kael adds, his voice carrying that protective edge I've come to recognize, "now we have even more reason to come home safe every night."

The comment makes my cheeks flush, but also fills me with a fierce sort of pride. I matter to them enough that they'll factor my feelings into their professional decisions. After Marcus, who made every choice in isolation and expected me to adapt to whatever he decided, the consideration feels revolutionary.

"What does this mean for the timeline?" I ask. "You said you were opening earlier than planned?"

"We were going to spend another six months getting everything perfect," Rhys explains. "Dotting every i, crossing every t, building up our client base slowly and carefully. But with the roads clear and spring coming early, we could open next month if we wanted to."

"Why the rush?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.

It's Fen who answers, his hazel eyes warm with understanding. "Because you're part of our pack now, and we want to make sure you feel like you belong in every aspect of our lives. Including our work."

The simple statement makes my throat tight with emotion. They're not just including me in their personal lives; they're restructuring their professional plans to accommodate my presence, my needs, my role in their family.

"What would my role be?" I ask, curiosity overriding my emotional response.

"Whatever you want it to be," Kael says immediately. "If you want to be involved in the business, we'll figure out how to make that work. If you prefer to focus on your writing and let us handle the security stuff, that's fine too."

"Or something in between," Rhys suggests. "Maybe you handle our marketing, our client communications. You're a writer—you know how to make words work, how to present information in a way that's compelling and professional."

The suggestion sparks something in my mind, a flutter of possibility I hadn't considered before. I've spent years writing fiction, crafting narratives and building worlds with words. The idea of applying those skills to something more practical, more immediately useful, holds unexpected appeal.

"I could do that," I say slowly, the idea taking shape as I speak. "Handle the website, write proposals, manage client correspondence. Maybe even help with training materials—make the technical stuff more accessible."

"You want to?" Fen asks, and I can hear the hope he's trying to hide.

"I think I do," I realize with growing excitement. "It would be nice to do something that feels immediately useful, you know? Fiction is important, but it's also abstract. Helping people stay safe, helping businesses protect themselves and their employees—that's concrete. That matters."

"Your writing matters too," Kael says firmly. "Don't ever think it doesn't."

"I know," I assure him. "And I'm not giving it up. But maybe I can do both. Write my books and help with the business. Be part of something bigger than just my own creative process."

The conversation flows naturally from there, all of us contributing ideas and suggestions for how to integrate our different skills and interests into a cohesive whole. Rhys talks about the client base they've already been cultivating, mostlythrough word-of-mouth and professional connections. Kael explains the technical aspects of risk assessment, the kind of detailed analysis that goes into protecting people and property. Fen outlines the administrative side, the licensing and insurance and regulatory compliance that makes everything legal and legitimate.

And slowly, I begin to see how I could fit into all of it. My writing skills for proposals and marketing materials. My organizational abilities for client management and scheduling. My attention to detail for research and documentation. It's not charity or busy work—it's genuine contribution to something that could be significant and successful.

"There's one more thing," Rhys says as we're clearing the dinner dishes. "About the living arrangements."

My hands still on the plate I'm carrying, anxiety spiking before I can control it. "What about them?"

"Nothing bad," he says quickly, reading my expression. "Just practical stuff. This house technically belongs to all three of us, but the deed is in Kael's name because he handled the purchase. If you're staying permanently, we should probably make that official somehow."

"I don't need to be on the deed," I say immediately. "I mean, I haven't contributed to the mortgage or—"

"That's not the point," Kael interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "The point is that this is your home now, and you should have the security that comes with that. Legal protection, financial rights, all of it."

The offer is generous beyond anything I expected, but it also makes me realize how much I still think like someone who's separate from them rather than part of them. I'm still approaching this like I'm a guest who might overstay her welcome rather than a permanent member of the family.

"Besides," Fen adds with a grin, "someone needs to make sure these two don't decide to paint the living room some horrible color while I'm not looking."

"Hey," Rhys protests. "Forest green is a perfectly reasonable color."

---