I know I said I’m not the type who gives up, but convincing Knox to change his mind is harder than I thought.
I wish his brain was a computer I could hack into and alter its wires, maybe leave a malware there to pay him back for being an asshole.
Unfortunately, I’m out of my depth and definitely not dealing with a computer. He’s a man, a beautiful jerk at that. A jerk who knows which buttons of mine to push and which will set me on fire.
I’ve never dealt with men before. Yes, I’ve been surrounded by them all my life, but they only ever treated me like a princess. One with no crown and no say in anything.
My interactions with them were few and far between, so I’m absolutely clueless about how to persuade a man—or a woman, to be completely honest.
Sometimes, I feel so helpless that I consider running again, disappearing again to where no one can find me. Especially Knox.
But that would mean I’d have to abandon Sandra and that’s just too similar to abandoning my mother.
I can’t even consider that option, so I have to stay, despite my struggles, despite the constant irritation and strange arousal I feel every time Knox and I speak to each other.
As of now, all I’m able to do is hold on to the perseverance I thought I had tons of.
It was implemented in my upbringing, in the life that was chosen for me.
Turns out, there are limits to that, too, because Knox is a fucking manipulator.
There’s this thing he invented that’s called “convincing sessions.” They all happen in that supply room he caught me in three days ago. They all start with his hand around my throat and end with me on the floor or against the wall as he wrenches violent pleasure out of me.
Then he uses my mouth and marks me with his cum.
“I’m still not convinced. Try harder tomorrow.” Are his words after we finish.
Or more like, he finishes, because I’m a marionette in his hands. A doll he can do whatever he pleases with. I probably should fight harder, push him away, and stop this endless loop.
But what’s the point when I can’t remove him from my head? Not only that, but I’ve also started looking forward to coming to work, to being cornered by him. I’ve even grown fond of that small nook that I was going to use as my hideout for when I do research on the life I left behind. Or when I used the firm’s servers to learn more about what’s going on between its walls.
And maybe, just maybe, that first taste I had a few weeks ago has turned me into an addict. Maybe I’m craving more of it and stupidly telling myself “one more time.”
But he’s keeping me on the edge. He hasn’t fucked me, and I’m sure it’s not because there isn’t a condom.
It’s a game of his, something that he enjoys doing to make me frustrated.
But if he thinks I’ll give him the satisfaction of asking for it, he’ll have to wait a long time. We’ll see who will give in first in this game.
God. This is so different from who I am. What I am. I don’t usually let anyone play with me—not that they ever got close enough to do so. But now, the promise itself makes my skin tingle with something I’ve never been allowed to feel before.
Excitement.
And maybe that’s dangerous. Maybe I should say no. But for the life of me, I can’t.
It’s harmless fun. Just sex.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
I plug in my earbuds and hit Play on my “Oldies” playlist. The sound of the eighties and nineties rock music puts me in a serene mood. I’ve always been a lover of vintage music, even though new technology is my jam. I’m a paradox that way.
I rarely listen to my music when I’m working, but ever since I encountered the hostile situation Chad and Ben have been creating, I’ve become religious about it. Not only do I get to enjoy good music, but I also get to tune them out.
Win-win.
I think they’re mostly jealous and while I don’t pay them much attention, I also don’t stay quiet when they start throwing jabs my way. I might not make eye contact with them, but I won’t allow anyone to treat me as if I’m a pushover.
A finger taps my shoulder while I’m typing away and I pause, thinking it’s one of them coming to start shit.
It’s not.
The girl who’s looking down at me smiles widely and holds out a small basket of baked goods. Her name is Gwyneth—or Gwen, as she asked me to call her.
She’s a pre-law student who’s interning at W&S during the summer and we’re the same age. We met two days ago and I had her help me with a new system I was creating. Ever since then, she’s started coming to the IT department frequently because the other interns are avoiding her.
I didn’t know why at the time, but she told me yesterday that she’s actually Kingsley Shaw’s daughter. As in, the Shaw of Weaver & Shaw, and apparently, that makes everyone wary of her. She’s even interning for Nathaniel himself. I know he doesn’t really take interns, but it makes sense since she’s the daughter of his partner, who can’t monitor his daughter due to being in a coma.
I remove my earbuds and offer her a small smile back.
“I brought you cupcakes.” She pushes the basket at my chest. “I had to save some from Daniel. He’s a cupcake monster.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t make them all the time. I heard everyone wants some now.”
“It’s okay. I like it when I make people happy through cupcakes.” She looks at Chad and Ben. “Not those nerds, though.”
They glare at her and she places a hand on her hip and glares right back. She developed an animosity toward them on my behalf after she heard them call me Plain Jane. She has a weirdly cute sense of justice, which is different from Knox’s warped one.
When I learned her identity and that she’s actually known Knox, Daniel, and the other partners for years, I contemplated asking her to convince Knox about taking the girl’s case. However, that would mean sharing too much information with someone I just met. Besides, I don’t want anyone to know about what Knox and I have.
It’s our dirty little secret.
“Go ahead, try them.” She pulls up a chair and watches me expectantly with eyes so colorful, they look a little freaky. She has rare heterochromia that creates a mash-up of green, blue, and gray in her irises, as if she’s a mythical creature from the folklore tales Babushka used to read to me.
I take a bite from the dainty-looking cupcake. “Vanilla again?”
“Hey! Vanilla is the best flavor.”
“It’s pretty standard.”
“Uh, excuse you. It’s versatile.”
I smile at that as I continue eating.
“What are you smiling at? It really is the best.”
“You’re one of the minority who think that.” She’s also one of the few people who’s willingly gotten close to me, not caring about my appearance or how asocial I actually am.
Gwen snatches one of the cupcakes she brought and starts eating. A strand of her auburn hair falls to her forehead and she unsuccessfully tries to blow it back.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask.
“Nah, I finished reading through the docs Nate gave me. Besides, he has a meeting with the other partners about an important case Knox is taking on, so he can’t give me any new tasks or make my life hell for being half a minute late.”
I lean forward in my seat. “Wait. Did you say an important case?”
“Yeah.” She licks her fingers, then nearly butts her head with mine when she slides her chair closer. “The offender is Matt Bell. You know, that famous producer? His daughter is suing him for sexual assault and demanding compensation, and Knox has accepted the case. Which is weird, because I’m pretty sure I heard Dan say he rejected it. But maybe he saw the case from a different perspective and changed his mind.”
My fingers tighten around the cupcake, and I’d smash it if I weren’t aware that Gwen would kill me for it.
Did she just say Knox accepted the case? The same case he said I needed to convince him to take on?
“This case is getting so much media attention,” Gwen continues. “It’s going to be wild.”
“Really?” I don’t have to ask her what I actually want to know, which is if Knox is up for this. Gwen is talkative by nature and tells me anything with simple nudges.
“Absolutely! But if anyone can do it, it’s Knox. Though everyone is skeptical that he’s taking a civil law case, but it’s probably going to happen at the same time as the criminal one and he’s done that before. Dad watched that one personally and was especially proud of how Knox drove both the prosecutor and the opposing counsel insane. So, I’m totally sure he can nail this as well.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s a strategist, you know.”
“A strategist?”
“Yeah, like at first, it looks as if he’s going to lose, but he’s really plotting several deadly blows. And when he actually delivers them? It’s game over.”
I believe her. I do. As a matter of fact, I think he used that tactic on me.
A fire burns inside me and it takes everything in me to continue listening to Gwen talking about a horror movie she watched last night. It takes everything in me not to unleash that fire on him.
On the man who’s been manipulating me all along.
The asshole.
By the time Gwen leaves, I’m fuming. No, I’m about to let all the destructive energy consume me.
I can’t even concentrate on the system I’ve been carefully building for days. The codes keep blurring in front of my vision no matter how much I take deep breaths and clean my glasses.
My phone vibrates and I retrieve it with a jerk. I know who it is before I even check. The only two people who know this number are the clinic where Babushka stays and the asshole who unapologetically exchanged numbers with me after that first time in the supply room.
Knox: In five minutes, I’m going to fuck you.
I’m so tempted to send him a middle finger emoji, but I think better of it.
I’m going to do it in person.
