Page 95 of Knox's Boy

"So this is the mysterious boyfriend," Sophia said, stepping forward to shake Florian's hand. Her dark eyes sparkled with warmth, her blond hair in a ponytail. "I've been dying to meet you. Robert actually uses smiling emojis in his texts now. It's disturbing."

Florian laughed. "He does?"

"Absolutely," she confirmed, linking her arm through his. "First time in the billionaires' inner circle?" she asked with understanding in her eyes. "I remember how intimidating it was when I first came. I kept waiting for someone to quiz me on which fork to use."

"Exactly," Florian admitted. "I've been practicing with all the forks, though. Why do we need so many forks?"

"Waste of time," Sophia said with a dismissive wave. "They've seen him drunk on cheap beer at college parties. The mystique is gone."

I pretended to be offended, but in truth, I was grateful for Sophia's intervention. She had been through this herself, marrying into David's wealthy family after growing up middle-class.

We moved to the private tasting room, a space I had designed myself, warm wood and stone with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the vineyard. Sunlight streamed across the long oak table where heavy crystal glasses awaited.

Florian sat beside me, Sophia taking the chair on his other side. Under the table, I rested my hand on his thigh. He gave me a smile, the tension around his eyes easing further.

The sommelier, a young woman with an encyclopedic knowledge of wine, began pouring the first vintage, explainingits characteristics with elegant precision. "This 2015 Cabernet has notes of black cherry and cassis, with subtle hints of cedar and tobacco on the finish."

I watched Florian closely as he took his first sip, the way his eyebrows lifted in surprise at the complexity of flavor. He was learning, developing a palate.

"Robert nearly died harvesting these grapes once, when his dad was the owner here," Lucas announced, gesturing with his glass. "Tell him the story, Rob. About the tractor."

Florian turned to me with wide eyes. "You nearly died?"

David laughed, his gray hair short, his blue eyes glistening with mischief. "It's not quite that dramatic. Lucas exaggerates."

"I almost broke my leg," I admitted. "I was trying to prove I could drive the harvester better than the actual employees. Turns out, I couldn't. Turns out, that was a really dangerous decision to drive heavy machinery without proper training."

"He was showing off," Sophia added, her voice warm.

Florian's expression was priceless, a mixture of disbelief and delight at this glimpse of me outside my carefully controlled persona. "I can't picture you doing something so reckless.”

"There are photos," David promised with a mischievous grin. "Blackmail material we've been saving for the right moment."

The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, my friends sharing stories that revealed sides of me Florian had never seen, more relaxed, occasionally impulsive.

By the time we moved to the terrace for lunch, Florian was engaged in a debate with James about architecture, his earlier nervousness almost forgotten. The terrace was my favorite spoton the property, a wide stone expanse overlooking the vineyard, shaded by a vine-covered pergola.

The kitchen staff had outdone themselves. Platters of local cheeses appeared, followed by herb-crusted lamb, roasted vegetables from the estate garden, and a fig tart drizzled with honey from our own hives. Each course was paired with a different bottle.

I found myself laughing more freely than I had in years, watching Florian bloom in the warmth of my closest friends. He sat between me and Sophia, leaning forward to catch David's story about a disastrous sailing trip we'd taken years ago.

David, who had poured more than his share of the last red, leaned back and fixed Florian with a conspiratorial smirk. “You know, you’re seeing Rob at his best, right? Polished, responsible, the guy who probably flosses his teeth between courses. But did you know he was an absolute menace as a teenager?”

“Absolutely not,” I tried, but he ignored me.

Florian’s eyes flicked to me. “I can’t picture that,” he said, shaking his head. “He makes his bed every morning, and he has like, staff that could do that, but he just does it instead?”

Sophia interjected. “Wait, wait, you never told me any of this,” she said, directing the accusation at her husband as much as me.

“I was hoping he’d let it slip himself,” David replied, eyes twinkling. “But, since he’s too dignified, it falls to me.” He raised his glass in salute. “Shall I?”

I rolled my eyes, but Florian’s curiosity was irresistible.

“Please,” my boy said, “tell me everything.”

Lucas grinned. “This is about the boarding school, isn’t it? We three, me, David and Rob, were the terror of the teachers.”

David waggled his eyebrows. “Of course it is.” He set his wine down, steepled his fingers, and began. “So, picture this: ancient stone corridors, cold as tombs in winter, all the boys in matching navy blazers, the teachers convinced they were grooming the next generation of presidents and bank CEOs. Enter Rob, who was, and I quote, ‘the best of the teacher’s pets.’”