Page 182 of The Perfect Spiral
I know this visit is going to change everything. I can only hope it’s for the better.
We’re driven in large, tinted-window SUVs after we land. I don’t see why it’s necessary, but there are two other SUVs following us, filled with his team of professionals and some security.
I don’t know who the security team is for, but I’m praying it’s not for me. We’re driving to Knox’s place in Manhattan.
He convinced me to stay there for the visit, arguing it would be easier than constantly picking me up.
We hit traffic immediately upon entering the city, and I start flicking through my phone. Hannah and Andy keep sending me pictures the paparazzi snapped when I stepped off the plane with him.
I didn’t even notice them. He just ushered me towards the open door of the car and followed me in.
He’s sitting next to me, scanning a list of approved interview questions with a red pen in hand, occasionally marking the pages.
I watch as he tenses his jaw, frowning slightly before running a red line through the black ink. He circles the question number to indicate that it’s been approved.
There are a lot of red lines on the pages. I smirk to myself, grabbing a water bottle and pretending it’s a microphone.
“So Knox Carter, do you prefer blondes or brunettes? Do you have something against redheads? Or do you like bolder colors?”
I raise an eyebrow at him, drawing his attention with my voice and pushing the bottle to his lips, waiting for an answer.
He looks amused, a smile playing on his lips. He takes my arm and pulls me close to his body, whispering, “Neither, no, and no. I only like you, baby doll.”
With a beaming smile, he unbuckles my seat belt at a traffic light and slides me across the seat, letting me rest against his side.
He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head, and continues reading the questions, clicking my seat belt back into place. We stay like this for the rest of the ride to his place.
When we finally arrive, I see a mass of people outside his building. He instructs the driver to go into the undergroundparking. The flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras go off simultaneously, creating one big flash.
I’m thankful he decides to shield me from them. We exit the car underground, but I can see the flashes up ahead in a small gap in the car park.
Knox does his best to shield me from them, opening the door for me to enter. Once we reach the elevator, he swipes a card and the doors close.
“They finally fixed it,” he mumbles about the elevator. Knox, his agent, PR assistant, his agent’s personal assistant, and I are all standing, waiting until we reach his floor.
The elevator dings to indicate someone else is getting on from what looks like the reception area. A young woman struts in with so much confidence I can’t help but stare.
She’s wearing a short beige skirt that clings to her like a second skin, a loosely tucked-in red top, and nude stilettos. Her hair is poker straight with caramel highlights running through her brown strands. She’s glued to her phone, weaving around people until she looks up and spots Knox.
“Knox? I knew that was your cologne,” she flirts, sauntering over to him and gently squeezing his bicep.
They always go for the arms. I mean, he does have nice arms.
“Tara,” he says, looking at the closing elevator doors. It’s quiet at first, but I glance at the reflection in the doors to see her whispering something to him, making me snap my head around to look at her.
He’s not really paying attention to her, just being polite. “Why didn’t you call me? We should do it again sometime? Maybe we could go out to dinner?” Her eyes lock onto mine as I glancetowards the double stainless steel doors that seem to hold me captive.
She appears as if she’s just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine, while I’m clad in black skinny jeans, a thin strappy yellow top, and my white Vans. I’m clutching my khaki green bomber jacket that I’d shed in the car.
“Sorry, I’m not interested,” his tone is sharp and unexpected.
My eyes widen at his icy dismissal of her, despite her practically draping herself all over him.
She might as well sprawl out on the floor and spread her legs for him. It’s always like this when I’m out with him—someone invariably makes a move.
A girl in his league, and I feel like a vagrant in comparison. Someone who is stunning and fully aware of it.
“That’s not what you said the first time... I know you miss me... miss what we had, Knox,” her voice drops to a seductive purr.
