Page 42 of If He Hadn't Cheated
He leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the marble floor. The second he’s gone, I realize I’m shaking.
Knox turns to me. “Are you alright?”
I nod, but my throat feels tight. “You’re working with his company?”
“Yeah, it was my father’s idea.”
I look up at him. “Oh.”
“This shouldn’t be about you or your past.”
Something in his voice makes me pause. “And what about me?”
He studies me for a long moment. “You’re past is not a threat.”
“Then what am I?”
His eyes soften. “The one thing I can’t control.”
The words steal my breath.
He takes a step closer, his hand brushing my arm in the smallest gesture of comfort. “Don’t let him get to you.”
I should pull away considering the other night but I he was right. This could complicate things. I get it now.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
He starts to walk away, but then stops. “And Lana?”
“Yes.”
“If he contacts you again, tell me immediately.”
There’s something in his tone that isn’t just professional. It’s protective. Possessive. Dangerous.
He leaves before I can answer. I stand there for a long time, watching the elevator doors close behind him from the glass windows. My reflection stares back at me in the gold surface of the sculpture next to me, my pulse still racing.
For the first time, I realize Knox Cain doesn’t just want to protect me. He’s ready to destroy anyone who hurts me again. And that should scare me.
But it doesn’t. It makes me feel safe.
19
The week crawls by in fragments.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. When it does, it’s broken. Sebastian’s face keeps flashing through my mind. His voice. His smirk. The way he said my name like it still belonged to him. I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter. That he can’t touch me anymore. That his betrayal is just part of who he is.
At work, I bury myself in numbers and schedules, anything that keeps my hands busy. Knox doesn’t mention what happened with Sebastian.
But I can feel the shift between us again. The distance that wasn’t there before. He’s back behind walls I can’t reach.
By Friday night, the weight of it presses too hard. The office is dark when I leave, the city glowing below like a thousand tiny promises. I walk without direction, past restaurants, past shops, past the same bar I swore I’d never enter again.
The sign hums in neon blue. The Velvet Room. My old life stares at me from behind tinted glass.
I stop in front of it, the memory hitting like a wave. The smell of alcohol. The sting of regret. The blur that used to make everything quiet.
