Page 168 of Misrule
Unable to stop her smile, Roxy shook her head. “You’re going to manipulate the fuck out of this situation, aren’t you?”
“All’s fair in love and war,” he quipped, then cocked his head to the side. “I do love you. Let me prove it to you. That’s all I ask. Just give me one more chance. If I fuck it up this time, then we can go our separate ways.”
“Knox, you just don’t snap back from all the vicious things you said to me.” She glanced down at the ring, touched it.
Seeing where her attention was, Knox covered her hand with his own. “Don’t give me an answer now,” he begged. “Just give me another chance.”
She opened her mouth to speak. Before words formed, he stole a quick kiss from her.
“I would wink at you if I could.”
“They fucked you up pretty bad,” she agreed, refusing to touch him.
“They are savages.”
“Stop, Knox. Just stop. Out of one side of your mouth, you ask me to give you a chance. Out of the other side, you still insult my family.”
“Family doesn’t keep you warm at night. I do.”
She nodded. “This family doesn’t ridicule me, either. They accept me for who I am. It’s no either/or with them. I can haveyouand them. But you think they are beneath you. Nothing but tattooed lowlifes.”
“Just because they have tattoos don’t make them lowlifes. Admittedly, tattoos are part of their criminal first impressions.”
Roxy huffed out a breath. “Having a tattoo doesn’t automatically make you a criminal. If you had one that wouldn’t mean you were crim—”
“First, I’d never get a fucking tattoo. That would make me as bad as they are.”
“That’s the gist of it right there,” Roxy said, her sadness stealing all her energy. “Not having a tattoo is just one of the ways you place yourself above them. It’s also one of the most outstanding examples of how different we are.”
He stared at her a moment, before he lifted his brows, as if a light just went off. “So if I get a tattoo, I’ll prove to you that I accept you?”
“Knox,” she whispered, finally giving into the urge to touch him by laying her hand against his cheek. He leaned into her. “I would never ask you to mark your skin if that’s not whatyouwanted. This is not…we’re never going to see eye-to-eye.” Weary, she dropped her hand, walked to the stool and sat. “Give me a few days and I’ll find a way for us to go our separate ways without dire consequences for you.” Drawing this pretense out would only make it harder when she said goodbye. “If you really are going to cook for the club brothers, I suggest you get started.”
“As you wish, my love,” he told her with a sneaky grin.
Knox believed he’d win her back. She’d just have to show him how wrong he was.
Chapter Forty-One
Arrows of pain, from Knox’s head to his toes, shot through him, yet Roxanne’s softening gave him the shot of adrenaline he needed to ignore his agony. She watched him with longing. The one or two times she’d laughed had soothed his self-recriminations. Her agreement that he cook propelled him to action.
He knew her so well. She intended to make a firm stance and block him out of her life, her heart, and her body, but he wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“Be right back, sweetheart,” he told her, in high spirits, as he picked up the platter of hash browns he’d prepared and headed to the main room. The place was moderately filled, in contrast to the emptiness he’d found just an hour ago, when he’d made his way to the kitchen to talk to Roxanne.
“You the new Kitchen Bitch now?” one of the bikers yelled as Knox sat the potatoes next to the platter of ham on the long table, near the bar, where the food always went.
“Fuck no,” Mortician growled, glowering in Knox’s direction.
“Only one Kitchen Bitch,” Mortician continued. “K-P.Don’t ever fucking make the mistake of trying to replace him, Foley.”
“Just shitting around, Mort,” Foley responded on a grunt. “Don’t gotta be so touchy.”
“He’s right.” Knox reached the officers’ table, where Mortician sat and pulled out a chair. “May I?”
Mortician scowled, but nodded.
“I owe you an apology,” Knox started on a sigh after he sat. “All these months, I thought you were like them. But you aren’t. You have money.”
