Page 87 of Knox

“—they can’t get to me here.”

“Exactly.”

Cillian walks toward the table, but he doesn’t sit down.

He just stands there, staring down at the steam rising from the food with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” he whispers.

“Eat something, Cil.”

“A man died, Knox,” he says, finally looking up at me. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I would’ve drunk that wine… and worse, I would’ve shared it with the people I love.”

“I know.” I step closer, setting down two cups of coffee. “But you’re safe. And they’re safe.”

“For how long? They almost got me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “What happens when they succeed next time?”

“Next time will be different.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know,” I say, walking around the table until I’m standing in front of him. “It’s going to be different because we have more information now. And because this time…” I lean in close, holding his gaze, “…you’re going to obey every single thing I say.”

“Promise you’ll keep me safe.”

“I promise. I’m not letting anyone hurt you, little Prince.”

“I thought you found me annoying,” he says, smiling.

“Oh, you are extremely annoying,” I answer without hesitation. “But no one will touch you. Not on my watch.”

Cillian’s smile widens, and it feels like he’s coming back to his usual carefree self. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until he’s standing a foot away from me.

Oh, shit.

Danger zone.

“No one is touching me?” he asks, his fingertips trailing lightly up my arm. “What kind of touching are you talking about, Knox?”

I catch his wrist, halting his hand in place, even as my pulse goes crazy. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, I’m your bodyguard, and you’re my client.”

“Technically, my great-uncle Arthur is your client. I’m just your sexy, high-maintenance cargo.”

I burst out laughing, and Cillian stares at me as if he just saw a unicorn.

I take a step back, putting some distance between us. “Sorry, Prince, but we can’t.”

“We already have.”

“And that was a—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say mistake.”

“Okay… it was a lapse of bad judgment.”