Page 37 of If He Hadn't Cheated
“Good.” His hand touches the small of my back. Barely. A gesture that shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. “Let’s get started.”
By midday, I’ve forgotten to be nervous.The team is competent, the project complex but exciting, and Knox… God. He watches me like he’s cataloging every move I make. And yet he gives me space to lead, to observe, to settle in.
During a meeting, someone talks over me, one of the senior consultants. Uncertainty makes me shrink back.
But Knox’s voice slices through. “Let her finish, Dan.”
Everything stops.
I stare at him. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me some dramatic nod of encouragement. He simply waits, expecting me to continue. Respect. Quiet. Undeniable.
And all at once, something inside me straightens. I speak. And Knox listens.
Really listens.
Hours later, when the office starts to thin out, I’m still settling into my new workspace, organizing files, learning the layout. I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until the lights start dimming into evening mode.
Footsteps approach. “You’re still here,” Knox says softly from the doorway of my office.
“I didn’t notice the time.”
“I noticed.” His voice dips lower. “You work hard.”
“So do you.”
The right side of his mouth curves. “I’ll walk you out.”
I start to refuse. I’m not helpless, but something in his quiet insistence makes me nod instead.
Outside, the air is cool, the sky streaked with burnt orange and violet. Knox rests his hand lightly at my lower back again as he walks with me to the curb.
“You did well today,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“I meant it.”
I look up at him, and the air changes. Something softens. Something sharpens. We stand there in a bubble of city noise, cars rushing past, lights flickering on. But I only feel him.
His eyes lower just briefly to my mouth. My pulse stutters. Then he steps back, gentle but firm. “Get some rest, Lana.”
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me breathless in the amber glow of the streetlight.
And I know this is something I’m not sure I am ready for.
But it’s something I want anyway.
16
The rain starts as a whisper against the windshield. By the time we reach the Cain International property on the coast, it’s a storm. Thunder rolls across the sky, shaking the glass windows of the unfinished estate. The house is all stone and echoing rooms, still half-built, overlooking a dark stretch of ocean.
Knox kills the engine, his jaw tight. “We’ll check the systems, then head back.”
The rain answers him with a wall of sound. Sheets of water hammer against the car. Neither of us moves.
“Or we wait it out,” I say softly.
He glances at me, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “You don’t like storms?”
