Just as I was about to take a sip of tea, the massive double doors at the far end of the dining room swung open. My breath caught in my throat.
There he was. Knox.
He moved with effortless control, each step measured, confident, impossible to ignore. He wore a navy blue striped tuxedo with a perfectly tailored vest underneath, the subtle stripes catching the morning light as he walked. The vest hugged his chest and tapered at the waist, giving him an air of sleek authority. The crisp white shirt beneath contrasted sharply, making every line of him more defined.
His hair was slicked back with gel, precise and commanding, not a strand out of place. The slight stubble along his jawline accentuated the sharp cut of his face, giving him that dangerous, untouchable aura I had come to recognize.
The sunglasses he wore added another layer of intensity, hiding eyes I longed to see but feared at the same time. Even behind them, I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on me, a silent claim that made my pulse spike and my skin tingle.
Every movement was deliberate. A faint scent of cigar smoke and polished leather drifted in the air as he walked toward me, sharp and intoxicating. The sound of his shoes clicking against the polished floor echoed in the room, each step resonating with quiet authority.
He stopped just short of the table, one hand adjusting the cuff of his shirt beneath the vest, as if the gesture alone could assert control over the entire room. The silver watch on his wrist gleamed subtly in the morning light, meticulous and precise, just like him.
I could hardly breathe. Even sitting, even alone in this grand dining room, the sight of him dressed so sharply, moving so purposefully, made the air around me feel thick, charged with tension and something deeper, something primal.
My hands shook slightly, my tea forgotten, as the man who had haunted my dreams and left my mark was suddenly here, real and impossibly perfect in every detail.
He stopped just short of me, and without a word, bent down with a deliberate, fluid motion. My heart skipped, and my hands froze mid-air.
His lips pressed against mine, firm and commanding, yet somehow slow, claiming. The kiss was deep, intoxicating, pulling the air from my lungs and leaving me trembling. I gasped, a soft sound escaping me as my body reacted instinctively, leaning slightly into him despite my own shock.
The scent of cigar and leather clung to him, mingling with the warmth of his mouth against mine. Every pulse of the kiss was deliberate, a silent assertion, leaving no doubt of his presence, his claim, his intent.
When he finally pulled back, my chest heaved, breaths shallow and uneven. My lips tingled, mind spinning, and I was acutely aware of the emptiness of the room around us. Yet the weight of him lingered, pressing on me like gravity, leaving me breathless and completely undone.
His eyes, hidden behind dark lenses, still seemed to pierce right through me, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips as if he knew the chaos he had left behind.
I sank back slightly in my chair, heart hammering, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss. The world felt sharp, electric, and utterly focused on him.He chuckled deeply against my lips, a low, rich sound that sent shivers down my spine. In that brief, teasing press of his mouth, I caught sight of his canines, slightly longer than usual, sharp and predatory, and my cheeks flushed at the subtle intimidation.
I gave him a small, embarrassed smile, unsure whether to hide it or lean closer.
He slowly removed his shades, letting his piercing eyes meet mine, and sank into the chair opposite me. The maid hurried to set down his breakfast, moving with efficiency tempered by obvious surprise. It was clear from their expressions that they weren't used to him being in the mansion during daylight. Normally he was gone at dawn and returned only by night, a phantom in the household.
"How was sleep?"
he asked, his voice low and measured, carrying that same effortless control that seemed to dominate every room he entered.
I swallowed, my lips still tingling from our earlier kiss, and struggled to find words.
"It… was fine,"
I murmured, though the truth was muddled by lingering sensations, the pull of his presence, the echo of his lips, the scent of cigar smoke that seemed to cling to the air around him.
He leaned back slightly, eyes observing, calculating, as if he could read every fleeting thought crossing my mind. That casual posture belied the silent intensity radiating from him, a predator fully aware of the effect he had on me.
Even sitting across from him, in the calm light of morning, Knox's presence made the world feel smaller, charged, and impossibly magnetic.
We dug in, the quiet clink of cutlery against plates filling the space between us. The food tasted almost secondary; my attention was entirely captured by him.
He didn't eat as quickly as I did, instead keeping his gaze fixed on me. His ultramarine eyes seemed to see straight through me, pulling me deep into a place I couldn't resist. Every flicker of movement, every small gesture I made, seemed magnified under his watchful stare.
I tried to focus on the food, to make my chewing look natural, but it was impossible. The intensity of his presence pressed against me, quiet yet overwhelming. My pulse quickened, heat rising to my cheeks.
"You've been quiet this morning," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.
"I… I guess I'm still waking up," I replied, voice slightly shaky.
He leaned forward just a little, elbows on the table, and smirked.
"Is that all it is, or are you trying not to stare at me too much?"
I choked back a laugh, feeling my ears warm.
"Maybe a bit of both," I admitted, glancing down at my plate.
"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, eyes never leaving mine. "I like it when you're flustered. Makes you… real."
My heart thudded.
"You're impossible," I said, trying to sound annoyed, though my voice betrayed me. Then I hesitated, the thought of reality creeping back in. "I… I should probably go home soon. My parents are coming back tonight from their two-week trip."
He leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same unreadable intensity.
"I see," he said softly, almost like he was measuring the weight of my words. "And does that worry you?"
I shook my head quickly, though my pulse skipped.
"Not exactly… it's just… logistics. I need to be there when they return."
He hummed again, the corners of his lips curling faintly. "I understand. But for now… enjoy breakfast. Take your time."
Even in this ordinary act of eating breakfast, Knox dominated everything around me. And I realized, with a mix of fear and thrill, that no matter what I did, I was already entirely his.