Chapter 005: Proximity Fuels the Forbidden Fire

When Linda Voss spotted the emblem carved inside the sandalwood bead, her fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.

She set down her teacup slowly, then picked up the bead.

Two defining moments marked the year Alexander Knight retired from the military at twenty.

First, he adopted Ethan Hart—the ten-year-old orphan of his fallen comrade, Michael Hart.

Second, at the Autumn Auction in Hong Kong, China that same year, Gerald Knight dropped an eight-figure sum to buy this 108-piece sandalwood prayer beads, gifting them to Alexander as he stepped into the cutthroat world of business.

The beads coiled around his wrist, the smooth wood an anchor for his disciplined mind.

They became his second lifeline amid the ruthless tides of corporate warfare.

Now the string was snapped, and this girl held one of the beads in her palm.

Linda traced the emblem on the bead with her thumb, her voice sharp and clipped.

"How did you get this?"

I propped my chin on one hand, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

"This little trinket clattered out of the underwear I wore yesterday."

Linda finally lifted her eyes to meet mine directly.

Her gaze snagged on my face, and she paused.

Delicate cheekbones, a figure that oozed raw temptation, a tiny face framed by dewy almond eyes.

She looked like a gardenia dusted with morning dew—pure, sweet, innocent.

Yet there was a wild, clinging heat to her, like ivy wrapped tight around a stone pillar.

Pure yet provocative.

The kind of woman who could break a man's self-control with a single glance.

No wonder.

Alexander Knight's downfall was inevitable.

This face had the power to bring even the most disciplined man to his knees.

She pressed the sandalwood bead down hard on the ebony tea table, her platinum bracelet embedded with sapphires clinking softly against the wood.

"Name?"

"Lisa White."

My fingertips absently traced the cold, smooth surface of my teacup.

Linda suddenly laughed, waving a hand at the tea server.

"Bring Miss White a set of Meissen porcelain teacups."

"Miss White."

Linda's eyes locked on my face, glinting with keen interest.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping the table once—slow, deliberate, loaded with unspoken threat.

"Treating prayer beads like chess pieces. Don't push your luck and lose the whole game."

"Twelve years ago, when Gerald bought this string for him, he said these beads would chain the madness in his bones."

"His father Anthony died for love. But Alexander? He lives for revenge."

"His heart is as cold as steel. Don't mistake his restraint for weakness."

I took the new teacup from the server, my thumb brushing the rim softly.

"All these years, Alexander hasn't been practicing Buddhism. He's been suppressing his inner demons."

"There's a fire burning in his chest. No one's dared to light it."

Linda chuckled, her tone laced with a warning edge.

"So what if you spark it? If the flames rage out of control, you'll be the first to burn."

I took a slow sip of tea, my voice calm and unshaken.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Voss. No matter how big the fire gets, it won't touch you."

"Aren't you curious to see just how far this self-restrained tycoon can snap?"

Linda fell silent for a beat.

A flicker of approval crept into her eyes.

"Interesting."

"Cut the crap. What do you want from me?"

My hand stilled on the gilded rim of my cup.

"I want you to help me win Alexander Knight over. Help me get close to him."

Linda raised an eyebrow.

"That's all?"

"That's all."

My lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

"Proximity is the perfect kindling for a forbidden fire."

Linda laughed softly, sliding the sandalwood bead back toward me.

"You've got ambition. And guts. I'll give you that."

She picked up her teacup, regarding the curling steam for a moment before taking a sip.

"Go home. I'll send word when I'm ready."

I pulled a business card from my handbag and laid it on the table.

No name, no title—just a string of numbers.

"If you change your mind, you know where to reach me."

I nodded slightly, then turned and walked out the door.

Linda picked up the business card, watching my figure disappear down the hallway.

"Lisa White..."

She murmured the name softly, a meaningful smirk tugging at her lips.

Her name sounded as soft as dew, but there was a throat-slitting blade hidden in her bones.

Dusk settled over the Knight family's old mansion.

It was the seventh day of the month, and the Knight family's monthly dinner was in full swing.

Gerald Knight sat at the head of the table, his hair white as frost, his eyes sharp as flint.

They zeroed in on Alexander's bare wrist.

"Where are your prayer beads?"

Alexander looked up, his voice calm and unreadable.

"They broke."

"Broke?"

The wrinkles on Gerald's forehead deepened, his voice tight with disbelief.

"You've worn those beads every single day for twelve years. Never took them off. How could they just snap?"

"Everything has a breaking point. Even a string stretched too tight."

Alexander spooned truffle consommé into his mouth slowly, his tone steady as stone.

"I've sent them to a master craftsman for repairs. You don't need to worry."

Ethan Knight sat further down the table, his heart skipping a beat at the words.

He thought of the red marks on Lisa's neck last night, tangled up with those lewd whispers in his head—a thorn digging into his chest.

Funny timing, for the beads to break like that.

Could the man Lisa was wrapped around last night be his father?

The question tumbled out before he could stop it.

"Dad. Did you stay at the Nebula Hotel last night?"

Alexander's gaze cut to him, cold and imposing, sending a shiver down Ethan's spine.

"Why do you ask?"

Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Nothing. I just heard the Cloud Pavilion suite had a guest last night. Wondered if it was you."

Alexander cut him off sharply, his tone icy.

"No."

"Derek Lai from Hong Kong, China flew to New York unexpectedly last night to discuss a partnership. I had Jasper Cole book the suite for him."

Ethan let out a quiet sigh of relief, the weight in his chest lifting.

So it wasn't his father.

That was a relief.

But the thought of Lisa tangled up with some other man left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He suddenly lost all appetite.

Linda watched the undercurrents at the table coldly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Not hungry?"

She spooned soup into her bowl, her eyes flicking to the untouched pan-seared sea bass on Ethan's plate.

Ethan snapped out of his daze, forcing a weak smile.

"Just not feeling up to it lately."

Linda stirred her creamy mushroom soup with a silver spoon, her voice warm and motherly.

"Young men—you work too hard, forget to take care of yourselves."

"Don't end up like your father. Running himself ragged day and night, skipping meals like they're nothing."

Gerald tapped his knuckles on the table, the sound sharp and rhythmic, cutting through the silence.

His gaze swept over father and son, cold and unyielding.

"Alexander. No matter the demands of the Knight Group, never forget who you are—and what this family stands for."

His voice dropped, edged with sharp displeasure.

"You're not getting any younger. It's time you settled down, got married."

There was a sharp edge of disapproval in his aged tone.

"Elena Voss is coming home next month. You'll set the wedding date for Thanksgiving."

Linda's fork paused mid-air for a split second.

Then she smiled, picking up a honey-glazed roasted fig and placing it on Gerald's plate.

"Gerald, you know Alexander's always been stubborn about these things."

"Elena's still young. Waiting a few more years won't hurt anyone."

Gerald snorted, his voice sharp with irritation.

"Young? She's twenty-five. Perfect age for marriage."

"Alexander, you're thirty-two. Back in my day, your father already had you running around the mansion."

Alexander cut him off cold, his jaw tight.

"That's exactly why I'm not following in his footsteps."

"Marriage isn't a business deal. I won't treat it like one."

Gerald slammed his ivory dinner fork down on the plate, the sound echoing through the room.

Soup sloshed over the edge of his bowl.

"Your father died for a woman! Do you want to end up the same way?"

Cold fire blazed in the old man's eyes.

"You're too closed off. Too cold. You won't even let a woman near you."

Alexander set down his spoon, wiping his lips with a napkin.

"If you're set on a marriage alliance, Elena would be a perfect match for Ethan."

Ethan's head shot up, his eyes widening as he met Alexander's icy gaze.

"That's nonsense!"

Veins bulged on Gerald's forehead as he slammed his palm down on the table.

Plates rattled; glasses clinked.

Alexander stood up, his voice cold and final.

"An international conference call for Knight Group. You'll have to excuse me."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the dining room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ethan leaned forward, his voia tiny face framed by dewy almond eyesce urgent.

"Dad, wait—let me walk you out."

"No need."

Alexander paused, his gaze sweeping over Ethan.

"Stay. Keep your great-grandfather company."

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

Gerald stared at the empty doorway, his knuckles white as he gripped his spoon.

It clattered into his cream of asparagus soup bowl with a splash.

"He's getting too bold for his own good."

A raspy cough escaped his throat, rough with age.

Linda set down her spoon, looking up at Gerald with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Gerald, you know Alexander's always had a temper."

"He's given everything to this family, to the company. A little stubbornness is the least of our worries."

"Some things can't be rushed. When the time's right, he'll come around."

Gerald heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"You always did know how to calm me down."

Linda was about to reply when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She pulled it out, the screen lighting up with an encrypted email—a background check on Lisa White.