It’s a sprawling estate of glass and stone, modern and impossible, rising out of the dark like it doesn’t belong to the same world as mine.
When the bike finally stops, the world tilts around me. My legs feel boneless, my body still humming from the speed of the motorcycle.
I’m dazed from the bike ride, but I glance around, trying to get my bearings in this impossibly grand space.
The house in front of us looks nothing like the world we left behind. I wish I could act like I wasn’t impressed, but I can’t even try. I feel like I just stepped into a dream.
“This is where you live?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
He pulls off his shades, places them back in his pocket, then looks at me. “Yes. This is home. You like it?”
I don’t want to like anything, so I say, “It’s nice.”
With a deep chuckle, he gets off the bike and helps me off, but the moment my feet touch the ground, it sways beneath me.
Knox steadies me before I stumble, one hand curling around my waist. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine.” I swat his hands away, but he still lingers, steadying me before finally letting go.
With a roll of his eyes, he turns back toward the house. “Follow me.”
I take a shaky step after him, my shoes crunching over the gravel path.
The house looms larger with every stride, its walls of glass reflecting the moonlight.
Everything about this place screams control.Hiscontrol.
We walk up a set of wide stone steps that lead to an oversized door of dark wood and glass. The brass handles gleam under the porch lights, polished to perfection.
He opens the door, and it swings wide.
I follow him inside, where I’m further impressed by the décor.
White marble floors gleam beneath a chandelier, twin staircases curve up to a balcony lined with gold railings, and the walls are lined with paintings.
For a moment, my mind freezes, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to awe. Especially when I take in the paintings of vibrant landscapes. They’re similar to the ones I love to create. Only my version skews darker. More gothic. More…me.
“This way.” Knox glances back at me over his shoulder when my steps slow.
He motions toward the stairs. We take them up to a landing, a wide, open space that looks more like something out of a grand hotel than a private home. It feels surreal to be walking through all this perfection.
Knox moves ahead of me down a long hallway lined with identical doors. The marble floors gleam under soft light, and the air is so still it almost hums.
The sound of our footsteps echoes, steady and controlled. At the end of the corridor, Knox stops and opens a door carved with deep grooves that catch the light. He holds it for me, stepping aside in that effortless way that somehow feels more like command than courtesy.
I glance up at him once before I step inside the room.
That scent of cedar hits me immediately. It fills the room, familiar and overwhelming all at once.
Like everything I’ve seen so far, the bedroom is styled to perfection in deep navy and warm beige. It’s elegant, masculine, and unmistakably Knox.
A king-size bed dominates the center of the room, framed by walnut furniture polished to a soft sheen. To the left, an archway opens onto glass doors that lead to a balcony, the kind you’d expect in a presidential suite at the Hilton. The comparison hits me again. Everything about this place feels more like a luxury hotel than a home.
To my right, shelves of old leather-bound books break up the smooth flow of the silk wallpaper. I almost get lost in the symmetry of it all, until a soft click behind me snaps me back to reality.
I whirl around. Knox stands by the closed door, the sound of the latch still echoing in my ears.
He moves toward the nightstand without looking at me and taps away at the buttons on the phone, checking for messages
