Chapter 64: Don’t!

NORA’S POV

The deadbolt clicked into place, the sound echoing off the marble walls.

Vanessa turned around slowly, resting her back against the locked mahogany door. The sweet, dramatic smile she had worn at the head table vanished completely, replaced by a cold, venomous sneer that made the temperature in the luxurious lounge plunge to absolute zero.

"Now," Vanessa murmured, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down. "Where were we?"

I stood near the gold-framed vanity mirror, the cold red wine soaking through the front bodice of my navy dress.

I didn’t step back, and I didn’t scramble for paper towels. I held my chin high, keeping my breathing steady.

"I believe you were pretending your clumsiness wasn’t deliberate," I replied smoothly in a calm, and completely unbothered voice.

Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking scoff.

She pushed off the mahogany door, taking two slow steps across the polished floor. Her designer heels clicked against the stone as she crossed her arms over her backless emerald gown.

"Did you really think squeezing into some cheap borrowed dress and reciting tax codes would make anyone at that table take you seriously, Nora?" I could hear the venomous condescension in her voice. "You’re a work-study diner girl. You don’t belong in this club, you don’t belong at this table, and you certainly don’t belong in Knox’s world."

"If I don’t belong here, why did Knox bring me instead of you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with a subtle tilt of my head.

Vanessa’s jaw tightened as pure fury flashed across her pale face.

"He brought you to spite his father," Vanessa hissed, closing the distance between us until she was standing barely two feet away. "Knox uses people until he gets what he wants. He’s using you as a pawn to prove a point to Garrison. As soon as his NHL draft clearance is signed, he’ll throw you right back to wiping counters at Rusty’s Diner and forget your name."

I looked straight into her eyes, refusing to give her an inch of satisfaction.

"Knox brought me tonight because he trusts me," I said quietly. "Something tells me you’ve never had anyone trust you for who you actually are, Vanessa. Not your friends, not your family, and certainly not Knox."

Her face contorted with white-hot rage.

"You arrogant little bitch," Vanessa spat.

She swung her hand back, aiming a slap at my cheek.

Before she could hit me, my hand shot up. I caught her wrist in mid-air and gripped it tight. With a quick twist, I forced her arm back, locking her shoulder and pinning her against the marble vanity.

Vanessa gasped, her eyes blowing wide in stunned, terrified disbelief as she tried and failed to wrench her arm free.

"Don’t," I whispered, stepping half an inch closer so she could hear every syllable clearly. "I am not the girl you get to intimidate. Try it again, and I’ll make sure Harold isn’t the only one who sees how completely out of your depth you are."

BANG.

A heavy blow slammed against the locked mahogany door behind her.

"Nora!" Knox’s deep voice came from the other side of the heavy wood.

Before Vanessa could even catch her breath to scream, a second, brutal hit struck the door. The brass deadbolt snapped with a loud, splintering crack, and the door burst wide open against the wall.

Knox surged into the marble lounge.

His white shirt collar was unbuttoned, his dark hair wild, and his jaw clamped in a murderous line. His dark eyes swept the room like a heat-seeking missile. The instant he saw Vanessa pinned against the vanity and me holding her wrist in my wine-stained navy dress, his face turned to pure, unhinged fire.

He crossed the marble floor in three massive strides, stepping directly between us. He grabbed Vanessa by the shoulder and shoved her back two full steps.

"Touch her again, Vanessa, and your father’s land deal is the least of your family’s fucking problems."

Vanessa stumbled back against the gold mirror frame, clutching her bruised wrist with trembling fingers. Her face was stark white, her chest heaving as she stared up at the six-foot-three varsity captain towering over her in fury.

Knox didn’t look at her again.

He turned to me, his breath still heavy and ragged. His fierce expression softened the moment his eyes met mine. He reached up and carefully took off his suit jacket.

Without a word, Knox draped it over my shoulders, pulling the lapels together in front of my chest to completely hide the red wine stain on my dress. His calloused fingers brushed gently against the side of my neck.

"You okay, Bennett?"

"I’m fine, Sheridan," I murmured, meeting his intense gaze. "She didn’t touch me."

Knox let out a slow, controlled breath. He reached down, taking my hand in his and sliding his long fingers between mine with an iron grip.

"Let’s get the hell out of here," he said.

He turned on his heel, pulling me out of the shattered restroom and down the wide carpeted hallway.

A crowd of wealthy donors, club staff, and real estate trustees had gathered near the entrance of the corridor, staring in stunned silence at the shattered door and Knox leading me away in his black jacket.

Near the grand foyer exit, Garrison Sheridan stood flanked by Harold Orwell and two private club security guards.

Garrison’s face was stone-cold. His eyes were dark with anger as he stepped in front of us.

"Knox, you will not make a scene and walk out of this club. You will apologize to Harold for your behavior, take your seat at the head table, and finish this dinner."

Knox didn’t slow down. He stopped right in front of his father, towering over him, his hand firmly holding mine.

"I’m done playing your games, Dad," Knox said coldly, his voice echoing across the marble foyer for every single guest to hear. "We’re leaving."

Harold Orwell opened his mouth to protest, but Knox brushed right past them, shouldering his way through the glass doors of the Grand Harbor Club into the night air.

—

The black SUV drove down the highway toward campus.

Inside the quiet cabin, the suffocating atmosphere of the Grand Harbor Club finally disappeared. Streetlights flickered across the leather seats as Knox sat beside me, his white shirt unbuttoned, his suit jacket still draped warmly over my shoulders.

The knuckles on his right hand were still slightly red from his Friday night board hit, resting against his knee.

"Thanks," Knox murmured quietly, breaking the silence as he stared out at the passing trees. "For what you did back there. Dismantling Harold on the tax code... nobody has ever stood up to those bastards like that."

"I told you I wasn’t keeping quiet," I said softly, looking over at him. A faint smile touched my lips. "Besides, Harold’s math was atrocious."

Knox let out a low, rough chuckle. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine in the dim interior lighting.

The humor faded, replaced by an intense, quiet vulnerability that made my breath hitch in my throat.

"At the table," Knox murmured, his voice dropping into a raspy, intimate rumble. "When my father tried to order me around... you didn’t flinch. And when I called you my girlfriend in front of the entire board... you didn’t deny it."

My heart pounded in my chest. The silence between us felt heavy as the SUV drove through the university gates.

Before I could find the words to answer, the vehicle pulled to a smooth stop right in front of my dorm hall.