Chapter 2

Maya’s POV

"I'm not asking for a photo," I said, stepping closer. "I'm Maya Valeria from the Daily Chronicle. I just need three minutes of your time for an exclusive quote about the upcoming finals."

Knox let out a cold, sharp laugh. "A reporter. Great. Pass."

He tried to step around me, but I shifted to block him again. "Just three questions, Mr. Mercer. You haven't spoken to the press in six months. Give me three answers, and I'll never bother you again."

Knox stopped, staring down at me with mild irritation mixed with genuine curiosity. Nobody usually stood in his way like this.

Before Knox could reply, a loud, familiar voice cut through the air behind us.

"Maya?"

My blood ran cold.

I turned around slowly. Jonathan was standing a few feet away holding a glass of whiskey. His eyes were wide with shock, staring at me, then looking at Knox, then back at me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jonathan demanded, taking a step toward me, his face flushing red. "Why haven't you been answering my calls? What are you doing talking to him?"

I felt a sudden rush of heat in my chest. The nerve of this man.

"I'm doing my job, Jonathan," I said coldly, keeping my voice steady.

"Your job?" Jonathan snapped, reaching out and grabbing my elbow roughly. "You sneaking into a private gala to bother people? Come with me right now. We need to talk."

"Let go of me," I said sharply, trying to pull my arm back.

"I said come on—"

Jonathan didn't get to finish his sentence.

A massive, tattooed hand reached out and clamped down hard around Jonathan’s wrist, squeezing until Jonathan gasped and dropped his grip on me.

Knox stepped forward, placing his heavy frame right between Jonathan and me. He towered over Jonathan, his dark eyes pitch-black with sudden, lethal anger.

"She told you to let go," Knox said softly, his voice dripping with danger.

Jonathan glared up at Knox, his jaw tight. "Stay out of this, Mercer. You don't know who she is. This is private."

Knox didn't back down. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at me. He looked at my pale face, my trembling hands, and then back at Jonathan’s furious expression.

To me, Knox just looked like an arrogant, unpredictable star taking a shot at his bitter rival. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Knox Mercer’s face. Without breaking eye contact with Jonathan, Knox reached out, wrapped his long arm around my waist, and pulled me flush against his side.

I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat as Knox’s warm hand settled firmly on my hip.

"You're wrong, Black," Knox said, his deep voice echoing smoothly in the quiet corner. He leaned down slightly, resting his chin right near my hair, looking straight at his worst enemy. "What the hell do you want from her? She's with me."

The scent of cedarwood, leather, and pure heat radiated from Knox’s side as his heavy arm locked around my waist. His grip was firm, anchoring me against his broad frame so tightly that I could feel the hard muscle of his ribs through his black dress shirt.

Jonathan’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of red. His eyes darted from Knox’s hand on my hip up to Knox’s smirk, then down to my face.

"What the hell is this, Maya?" Jonathan’s voice cracked, dropping into a harsh whisper as he glanced around to see if any photographers were nearby. "Are you out of your mind? You know who this is?"

"I know exactly who he is," I said, forcing my voice to stay even despite the absolute chaos in my chest. "He's Knox Mercer. And I'm currently interviewing him."

"Interviewing him?" Jonathan took an aggressive step closer, but Knox didn't budge an inch. He stood like a brick wall between us, his thumb making a slow, deliberate circle against the side of my waist. The touch sent a strange, electric shiver straight up my spine.

"You heard her, Black," Knox said, his deep voice carrying that lazy, dangerous edge. "She’s busy. With me. Now why don't you take your drink and run along before someone takes a picture of you harassing my date?"

My date. The word hung in the air, heavy and ridiculous.

"Your date?" Jonathan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, though his hands trembled slightly as he gripped his whiskey glass. "Maya, stop playing games. You don't know him. He's a dirty player who belongs in a cage, not near you."

I felt Knox’s body go completely rigid against mine. His jaw tightened, the intricate black tattoos on his neck shifting as his muscles flexed.

Before Knox could move, I looked Jonathan straight in the eyes. "The only person acting out of line here is you, Jonathan. Step back and leave us alone."

Jonathan flinched, looking at me with frantic, possessive eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but Knox took one half-step forward, using his massive height to completely block Jonathan’s view of me.

"Walk away, Black," Knox growled softly, low enough that only the three of us could hear. "While you still have a jaw to play next week's game with."

Jonathan glared at Knox with pure hatred. He looked at me one last time, a dangerous flicker of desperation in his eyes, before turning on his heel and marching back toward the main ballroom floor, swallowing his whiskey in one gulp.

The moment Jonathan disappeared into the crowd, the air rushed back into my lungs. I immediately took a step back, breaking away from Knox’s hold. My waist felt suddenly cold where his hand had been resting.

"Thank you," I breathed, smoothing down the front of my black dress with hands that refused to stop shaking. "I... I'm sorry you got dragged into that. He was being out of line."

Knox didn't answer immediately. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, his dark eyes scanning my face with intense scrutiny. The smirk was gone, replaced by a quiet, calculating expression.

I assumed he was just enjoying a petty chance to mess with Jonathan.

"You want an interview?" Knox asked, his deep voice slicing through my scattered thoughts. "Fine. Let's talk about an exclusive."

He turned and walked toward the glass doors leading out to the quiet, moonlit patio. He stopped at the threshold, looking over his broad shoulder at me. "Are you coming, reporter? Or do you want to go back inside and wait for Black to corner you again?"

I swallowed my pride, gripped my digital recorder tightly, and followed him out into the cool night air.

The patio overlooked the city skyline, decorated with potted white roses and soft fairy lights. Knox walked over to the stone railing, leaning his heavy forearms against it as he looked out at the lights below.

I stood two feet away, pulling out my recorder. "Three questions," I reminded him. "Starting with your recovery from the shoulder injury last month—"

"I have a proposition for you, Maya," Knox interrupted, turning his head to look at me.

I blinked, lowering the recorder. "A proposition?"

"You want a promotion at your paper," he said, his voice smooth and steady. "You need an exclusive story that puts your name on the front page. And you want Jonathan Black to back off and leave you alone."

My heart gave a hard thump. "I just want to do my job."

"Liar," Knox said quietly, without a drop of malice. "I saw your eyes back there when he grabbed you. You want to make him pay for putting his hands on you. And frankly, I’d love to watch."

"What are you getting at?" I asked, my defensive walls instantly going up.

Knox pushed off the railing, taking two slow steps toward me until he was towering over me once again. The smell of cedarwood wrapped around me like a blanket.

"Fake date me," Knox said calmly.