“Luxe was mine before, during, and now, after the marriage.” He lifts his water but doesn’t drink, gaze locked on mine. “It pretty much runs itself now, with help from Pamela, my assistant.”
Our server returns with a small wooden board of warm, crusty bread and a shallow dish of olive oil laced with herbs and sea salt. He sets it down between us, flashes a polite smile, and glides away.
I tear off a piece absently, still processing. “So…that’s why you said Pamela wouldn’t say a word…”
Knox nods, reaching for the bread. “She doesn’t even know your father, so she’d never run to him with something personal. Pamela’s only ever supported Luxe. Started helping out after she retired from running HR at a major hospitality group. Luxe gave her something to sink her teeth into. And even now, as she approaches seventy, she treats it like her own.” He pauses, then adds with a small shrug, “Though I have a feeling she’s getting ready to retire for real this time.”
I glance up, smiling. “Says a lot about you as a boss, you know.”
His eyes meet mine, a flicker of warmth passing between us. “Or about her loyalty.”
“Maybe both.”
Silence grips the moment as if we’re both marinating in our own thoughts before Knox clears his throat.
“How about we circle back to me in a bit?” he says, a smile curving his lips. “But now, it’s your turn.”
“Right.” I reach for my glass, take a sip, then set it down with more care than necessary. “I’m Francesca Camille Beaumont.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then meet his gaze again. “Cami to most. Frankie if you’re my dad. I’m twenty-four. PhD from Oxford. Daughter of Nora Moretti, who married Oliver Beaumont when I was two.” My fingers trail the edge of my napkin. “He adopted me not long after.” I straighten slightly, shoulders squared. “Which makes me the heiress to Beaumont Group, a billion-dollar acquisitions empire.”
Knox gives a slow nod. “Which explains why you wanted to stick to no last names, no real life in Crystal Cove.”
“My dad’s done a good job keeping who I am out of the public eye.” I tear off another piece of warm bread, dip, bite, chew. “Few people know. Paxton, of course. We’ve been best friends since forever. But after what happened with my ex…” The words fold out gently, “I promised myself I’d never lead with that again.”
As if on cue, the server interrupts with our meals, setting each plate down with a practiced flourish.
He places mine in front of me first, a thick-cut halibut fillet with a delicate golden crust, resting over a bed of saffron couscous that carries notes of citrus and sun. The beurre blanc glistens on the side, buttery and pale, its tangy scent already making my mouth water.
Knox’s ribeye arrives next, charred to perfection, rare at the center, the juices already pooling slightly on the plate. The truffle-mashed potatoes are piped like clouds, flecked with herbs and velvet-smooth, and the heirloom carrots look almost too pretty to eat, roasted to what looks like a tender, caramelized finish.
“Enjoy,” the server says before prancing away.
Knox picks up his knife but doesn’t cut into anything yet. Instead, his gaze flicks back to me, playful and pointed. “Sometimes, when the name comes first, it’s easy to miss the person.”
“Exactly.” I cut into my halibut. “And let’s be honest, if I’d googled you first, I probably would’ve run.”
He laughs, then leans in, hand on my thigh, mouth at my ear. “Good thing fate doesn’t use Google.”
His lips brush mine, slow and warm, laced with a promise he’ll ruin me the second we’re alone again.
I nearly swoon, goose bumps racing from head to toe.
Real-life Knox is just as intoxicating and molten-hot as the man in our summer bubble who pulled my heartstrings toward the moon.
Only now, I’m not floating in that dangerously hopeless way.
I’m soaring, weightless and free.
CHAPTER 39
Knox
Dinner was incredible.
A taste of us, here, where it matters most.
Two heirs. Two legacies. Madly in love.
Most people would call us a perfect match.
