Page 50 of If He Hadn't Cheated
“You’re brilliant,” he murmurs, almost to himself, when I finish explaining a cost-saving adjustment.
Blood warms my cheeks. “I’m just doing my job.”
“No,” he says softly. “You’re doing more.”
I swallow hard and look away.
Later, during a team meeting, someone asks Knox about a change in the strategy. He explains it succinctly, then adds, without looking up from his notes. “Lana recommended the approach.”
A few glances turn toward me. Not judgmental. Curious. Respectful, even.
Sebastian never did that. He took credit. He minimized. He smoothed over my ideas until it was his.
But Knox? Knox hands me a spotlight even when I’m not asking for one.
The meeting ends, people scatter, and I’m gathering notes when I hear him behind me.
“Dinner,” he says.
I blink. “What?”
“Tonight.” He stands there, hands in his pockets, casual but somehow commanding. “We need to go over the next quarter projections.”
My pulse jumps. “Right. Work.”
His eyes flicker. Not disappointment, but something like amusement. “Work.”
Dinner is at a place far nicer than a simple work dinner should be. Dim lights. Low music. The kind of ambiance that wraps itself around you.
We sit close. Closer than we should. Every movement feels intentional. We talk about the project. We talk about the company. We talk about everything except the thing simmering between us.
At some point, I laugh—really laugh—at something he says. He looks at me like the sound hits him physically.
His voice softens. “I haven’t heard you laugh like that before.”
My breath catches. “How do you know how I laugh?” I ask, meaning to tease, but it comes out too honest.
His jaw flexes. “Because I pay attention.”
The air stills. His hand rests on the table, inches from mine, close enough that the heat from his skin brushes me. For a second, just one. I think he’s going to reach for me.
But instead he signals for the check.
When he walks me to my door, neither of us moves. Neither of us breathes. His eyes fall to my lips again, slow and deliberate.
I whisper, “Knox…”
He steps back fast. “Goodnight, Lana.”
The door closes between us, but my body still vibrates from the way he looked at me.
25
The next few days feel like a dance we’re both pretending not to notice.
He finds excuses to be near me. I find excuses to stay late.
We hover around each other, close enough to feel every shift in tension.
