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And just like that, the tears I held in for so long gather in my lids.
“Knox?” I whisper.
“Don’t worry, beautiful.” He winks down at me. “I’ll protect you.”
14
KNOX
I’ve had people look at me in different ways.
Some have pitied me, others have had expectations of me, and even those closest to me, such as my family, have had questions in their eyes about me. Sometimes it’s worry. Other times, curiosity.
But no one has ever looked at me the way Anastasia is right now. As if she were falling down a bottomless well and I pulled her out.
As if she were choking and I gave her back her air.
She’s wheezing, a full-body shudder gripping her. Her shoulders tremble beneath my hand and her lips are twitching. I don’t have to see the look in her eyes beneath the glasses to know she’s falling into a loop.
That she’s out of her element and way out of her comfort zone.
When Christoph mentioned that he’d be having lunch at this restaurant, I guessed that he’d be accompanied by Gwen and Anastasia—or Jane, as they know her. The three of them have become close over the last couple of weeks, almost inseparable.
So whenever I want information about her, all I have to do is drop ambiguous questions to Christoph and he happily answers them all. Though I’m a bit annoyed that she spends more time with him than me.
Fine, not annoyed. It’s way more than that.
The game Anastasia and I started to play was supposed to make me get over her, remove her from my system and allow me to finally move on, but it’s only made the fire burn hotter, stronger.
Instead of purging her, I’ve been engraving her in, searching for every moment I can catch a glimpse of her. Even if she’s only passing by.
It’s that unhealthy obsession again, the lack of control I’ve been fighting all my life.
And I did plan to continue fighting it, to reject it and keep this fucked-up fixation under wraps.
But that was before.
Before I stepped into the restaurant and saw her heading to the bathroom, only for her to take a long time to come out.
And that’s when I followed her and witnessed a fucking arsehole grabbing her by the throat and suffocating her. I lied about filming the whole thing, because the moment I saw someone hurting her, my first thought was to release her and punch the two fuckers who are currently glaring at me.
One of them is taller and broader and wears a tailored suit and black-framed glasses. He’s the silent one who didn’t talk or take action during the whole ordeal.
The other one is much smaller, leaner, but still strong, because he effortlessly lifted Anastasia by the collar of her shirt.
He’s also the bloody wanker who has me thinking about the best way to murder. No one touches Anastasia and gets away with it.
No one.
“Who are you?” the leaner one asks with a tinge of an accent. Russian? Eastern European?
“Her attorney.” I tighten my hold on Anastasia, who’s shaking even worse than a few seconds ago. “You just committed physical assault, and not only will I have you arrested for it…”
“This little…” He storms toward me, his face tight with the intention of violence. I swiftly push Anastasia behind me, ready for the impact of his clenched fist.
One more assault to drag this bastard down with.
But before he can reach me, the other man grabs him by the arm and the leaner one immediately comes to a halt. He’s breathing heavily, his fists still clenched, and his glare alone is about to cut me open.
