Page 14 of Bound in Silk

"Is she?" Seraphina challenges, a flash of her usual fire breaking through the vulnerability. "Am I your equal, Knox? Do I match your ambition, your power, your world? Or am I just a convenient solution to an unexpected pregnancy? Just the mother of your heir who needs to be controlled, claimed, kept in line?"

The questions reveal the depth of the wound Alessandra has inflicted—deeper than I initially realized, finding purchase in Seraphina's existing insecurities about our relationship, about her place in my life, about the imbalance of power that has always existed between us.

"Look at me," I demand, closing the distance between us, cupping her face in my hands so she can't look away. "Look at me and listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once."

Her tear-filled eyes meet mine, wary but attentive.

"You are not a convenience. You are not a solution to a problem. You are not valued merely as the mother of my child, though that role is sacred to me." My thumbs brush away tears as they fall, my voice rough with emotion I rarely allow myself to express. "You are essential to me, Seraphina. Not because of what you carry in your womb, but because of who you are. Because no one—not Alessandra, notanyone—has ever challenged me, frustrated me, inspired me, or understood me the way you do."

She shakes her head slightly, disbelief evident in her expression. "But I'm not?—"

"You're not what? Not powerful enough? Not ambitious enough? Not sophisticated enough?" I interrupt, anger coloring my words now. "By whose definition? Alessandra's? Society's? Mine?"

"Yours," she whispers, the simple truth of her fear exposed. "I've never been enough in your world, Knox. Never fit seamlessly into the life you've built. My goals, my achievements, they're so small compared to yours."

"Your achievements are extraordinary on their own terms," I counter fiercely. "You've built a respected career through intelligence and determination, not connections or family money. You've elevated artists others overlooked, shaped conversations about culture and expression that matter. You'vemaintained your integrity in an industry that often rewards compromise."

My hands slide from her face to her shoulders, holding her steady as I continue. "But more importantly, you're the only woman who's ever made me question myself. Who's ever walked away from what I offered because you demanded better. Who's ever fought me at every turn not out of calculation or game-playing, but out of genuine independence and strength of character."

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, perhaps, at the raw honesty in my voice, at the emotion I'm not bothering to conceal.

"Do you know why I pursued you so relentlessly after you left?" I ask, not waiting for her answer. "Not because I couldn't stand losing, though that's what you probably believe. Not because I'm possessive, though I am. But because the world literally made no sense without you in it. Because everything I've built, everything I've achieved, felt hollow and meaningless when you weren't there to challenge it, to question it, to make me justify it."

Her tears have slowed, her attention fully focused on my words now, on the vulnerability I'm showing that few people have ever witnessed.

"The baby is a gift," I continue, one hand moving to rest against her still-flat stomach. "A miracle I never expected but now can't imagine living without. But you, Seraphina—you were essential to me long before I knew about our child. You will be essential to me long after our children are grown and gone. Not because you match some artificial standard of power or ambition, but because you match me in the ways that actually matter—courage, conviction, fire."

I take a deep breath, laying bare the truth I've kept guarded even from myself at times. "I don't want a female version of me,Seraphina. I don't want someone who shares my ruthlessness or my sometimes questionable methods. I want—I need—someone who balances me. Who challenges me to be better than I am. Who sees through the power and the wealth to the man beneath. That person is you. Only you. Always you."

The vulnerability in my admission hangs between us, more exposure than I've allowed myself to show perhaps ever. In business, in life, I've maintained careful control, revealed only what serves my purposes. But here, now, with Seraphina's tears still damp on my fingers, with the pain of her doubt visible in her eyes, strategy falls away, leaving only raw, unfiltered truth.

"Alessandra spent six months in my bed because she was convenient, uncomplicated, available," I admit, holding nothing back. "She wanted access to my world, connections to my power. I wanted companionship without commitment, physical release without emotional vulnerability. That's all she ever was—a placeholder until something real came along."

I touch the diamonds at Seraphina's throat, symbols of a legacy I've been saving for only one woman. "You are what's real. What's lasting. What matters beyond business and wealth and power. And if you doubt that, then I have failed to show you the truth of what you mean to me."

Seraphina stares at me, her eyes wide with an emotion I can't quite identify—shock, perhaps, at this unprecedented display of vulnerability from a man who prides himself on control. Slowly, cautiously, her hand rises to cover mine where it rests against her cheek.

"I've never seen you like this," she whispers. "So…exposed. Raw."

"No one has," I acknowledge. "No one but you."

And there it is—the simple truth that renders Alessandra's cruel assessment not just wrong but absurd. Seraphina has seen parts of me, reached places within me, that no other womanhas ever accessed. Not because of ambition or power or social status, but because of who she is at her core—strong enough to challenge me, brave enough to leave me, essential enough to make me move heaven and earth to bring her back.

I pull her against me, wrapping her in an embrace that's as much about my need as hers. "Don't ever let anyone make you doubt your place in my life," I murmur against her hair. "Not Alessandra, not society gossips, not your own insecurities. You are exactly who and what I want. Exactly who and what I need. The only woman I have ever loved or ever will love, with or without the child you carry."

She stiffens slightly at the word "love"—a term I've used sparingly, deliberately, knowing its power. But tonight, with her tears dampening my shirt, with the pain of doubting her place in my world still fresh in her eyes, strategy and calculation have no place.

Only truth. Only vulnerability. Only the raw, unvarnished reality of what she means to me.

"Come home," I say softly, pulling back just enough to see her face. "We've made our appearance. Said what needed to be said. Let me take you home and show you exactly how essential you are to me. How completely wrong Alessandra's assessment was."

After a moment's hesitation, Seraphina nods, allowing me to lead her from the Egyptian wing back toward the gala's main hall. We'll make our excuses, thank our hosts, maintain the public facade of the powerful couple departing early.

But in the car, in the privacy of our home, I will spend the night ensuring that Seraphina Vale never again doubts her place in my life, her value beyond motherhood, her absolute centrality to everything that matters to me.

And tomorrow, Alessandra Winters will discover exactly what happens to those foolish enough to wound what Knox Vance holds most precious.

Chapter Nine

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