Page 109 of Hard Bargain

“This.” Dominic’s eyes came back to him. “Whatever this is.”

Knox’s jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer either.”

“I know. But it’s the only part that matters.”

Knox stared at him. Dominic didn’t look away this time. “In my world,” he continued, “you don’t let things complicate your judgement. You don’t let them grow into something you can’t control.”

Knox's chest tightened. “So that’s it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

Knox huffed a small, humorless laugh and let his head fall back against the seat. A part of him—the part that still carried his father’s voice like a mark carved too deep to fully erase—latched onto Dominic’s words instantly.

Good. One time. Better that way.

It meant this didn’t have to mean anything. Didn’t have to turn into something bigger or harder to explain. It didn’t have to define him.

The thought settled in his chest like something that should have brought relief. So why did it feel wrong? It felt like his body hadn’t gotten the message his brain was trying to force through. The ground had shifted, and no amount of calling it a one-time thing was going to shift it back.

Knox swallowed. “And the solution is just—what? Pretend it’s done?”

“The solution,” Dominic said evenly, “is that it is done.”

That landed harder than anything else he’d said.

Knox looked away. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sure.”

It should have been that simple. But the air between them said otherwise.

* * *

The next few days, Knox stayed close to Dominic. They moved through the city like it belonged to them—or rather, like it belonged to Dominic, and Knox was being shown how that worked. There were meetings, calls, warehouse visits, and quiet conversations that sealed decisions on the spot.

The Mercer location wasn’t just active; it was busy. Information came in constantly. They planned the attack piece by piece. Photos were spread across the table, times scribbled in margins. The plan came together easily.

What wasn’t easy was being this close to Dominic. Every hour spent at his side made him more aware, not less. There was a constant tension that lived in his chest and never quite released, like a wire pulled taut behind his ribs that nobody could see but Knox could feel with every breath.

Dominic’s behavior didn’t change. That might have been the worst part. He didn’t avoid Knox or pull away, and he never acknowledged what had happened. He moved through everything the same way he always did: focused, controlled, and entirely himself. It was as if that night had been filed away in some drawer and the key swallowed.

Except Knox’s body hadn’t gotten the memo. Not even slightly. Knox noticed everything now, his attention slipping no matter how hard he tried to stay focused. He would be looking at papers, following the plan, and then his eyes would drift. They’d get caught on Dominic’s forearms, sleeves pushed back just enough, muscle shifting under skin as he reached across the table.

He’d force himself to look away, but it never lasted. Because then it was his hands. Knox kept getting stuck there more than anywhere else. Big. Strong. Confident in everything they did. His eyes kept drifting back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Obsessed. That was the word, and he hated it.

“Focus,” Dominic had said, more than once.

Knox would blink, realizing he hadn’t heard a word of what came before. Heat would climb his neck and he’d pray it didn’t show.

It got worse when they moved around each other. A shoulder brushing his. Dominic’s hand reaching past him to grab something, close enough that Knox could feel the warmth of his arm. Or they’d lean over the same document, and Knox would be acutely aware of how little space lay between them. Inches. Nothing. Close enough to feel his breathing, close enough to catch the scent of him—something clean and expensive that he shouldn’t have loved as much as he did.

Every time, Knox’s body would go tight, breath catching before he could stop it. He’d pull back and grab onto whatever they were working on like it could anchor him.