THE KNIGHTS DEBT

THE MORNING AFTER

​I didn't sleep.

​It’s hard to sleep when your bed is the size of a playground and the sheets cost more than your tuition. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Arthur Knight’s flinty gaze or felt the ghost of Xavier’s lips against my temple.

​By 6:00 AM, I gave up. I threw on my old, oversized university hoodie and some leggings, my "armor" of choice. Pulled my hair into a messy knot, and wandered out into the main living area.

​The penthouse looked different in the morning. The harsh city lights were replaced by a soft, grey dawn filtering through the glass walls. It was still sterile, but it felt less like a museum and more like a very expensive waiting room.

​I followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen, a masterpiece of white marble and hidden appliances. Xavier was already there.

​He wasn't wearing a suit. He was in a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt that hugged his shoulders in a way that should have been illegal. He was leaning against the counter, staring into a mug like it held the secrets to the universe.

​"You're up early," he said without turning around.

​"Habit," I muttered, heading straight for the espresso machine. I didn't know how to work it, but I started poking buttons until it made a promising hissing sound. "Some of us have to actually work for a living, remember? I have a biological clock that doesn't care about penthouse views."

​Xavier turned, resting his elbows on the marble. He looked tired. Not 'broke-student' tired, but the kind of tired that comes from carrying a name that everyone wants a piece of. "I worked until three. My father sent over six files on the anniversary project 'just to see if I was paying attention.'"

​"Poor baby," I said, finally coaxing a stream of dark coffee into a cup. "Having to read files in your climate-controlled palace. My heart bleeds. Really."

​He let out a dry, short laugh. "You really don't turn it off, do you?"

​"Turn what off?"

​"The thorns. Most people would be at least a little bit nice to the guy who just wiped their mother's criminal record."

​I turned to face him, the steam from my coffee rising between us like a physical barrier. "You didn't do it out of the goodness of your heart, Xavier. You did it because you needed a tool. I’m just a hammer you bought to fix your reputation. Don't expect the hammer to thank you for hitting nails."

​Xavier stepped closer. He didn't stop until he was right in my space, that sandalwood scent of his mixing with the smell of the coffee. He looked down at me, his eyes tracking the way I held my mug like a shield.

​"I don't think you're a hammer, Jade," he whispered. "Hammers are predictable. You? You’re a wild card. I still haven't figured out if you're going to save me or set my entire life on fire."

​"Maybe both," I challenged, though my pulse was doing that annoying fluttering thing again.

​"I'm counting on it." He reached out, his fingers grazing the sleeve of my hoodie. "What is this? This is what you wear when you aren't being a billionaire's accessory?"

​"It’s my 'leave me alone' outfit," I said. "And it’s worked for three years. Don't ruin the streak."

​He smirked, but then his expression softened into something more business-like. "There's a car waiting downstairs to take you to campus. Marcus has your schedule. He also took the liberty of paying your lab director for a 'consultation leave.' You’re still an employee there, but you don't have to scrub beakers for the next month."

​I froze, my grip tightening on the mug. "You bought my job?"

​"I bought your time. I need you available for a lunch meeting at two. It’s with the lead architect for the Gala. He needs to see you 'involved' in the planning. The 'wholesome fiancée' needs to look like she’s actually interested in the Knight legacy."

​"I have a microbiology quiz at two, Xavier. I'm a student, not a wedding planner."

​"No, you don't. I had Marcus talk to your professor. You're taking it on Friday instead."

​I slammed my mug down on the marble counter. The sound echoed in the quiet kitchen. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to move my life around like a chess piece. My grades are the only thing I actually own. You bought my presence, not my brain."

​Xavier didn't flinch. He just watched the anger flash in my eyes. "You own a two-hundred-thousand-dollar debt, Jade. Every hour you spend in that lab earning ten dollars is an hour we aren't selling this lie to the board. This is your job now. Act like a professional."

​"I am a professional," I hissed. "I'm a professional student. You’re just a professional spoiled brat who thinks the world stops when he snaps his fingers."

​The air between us felt thick, charged with a weird mix of fury and something else I didn't want to name. Xavier’s eyes dropped to my mouth for a split second, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he was going to kiss me just to shut me up.

​Instead, he stepped back and grabbed his phone.

​"The car leaves in twenty minutes," he said, his voice going cold. "Be in it. And Jade?"

​I glared at him. "What?"

​"Wear something that doesn't have a coffee stain on it. We're meeting people today who judge you by the thread count of your clothes. If we’re going to lie, let’s at least make it look expensive."

​He walked out without waiting for a reply. I stood in that multi-million dollar kitchen, clutching my thrifted mug, and realized that the "Golden Cage" didn't just have bars. It had a warden who knew exactly how to push my buttons.

​I looked at the diamond ring on my finger.

​Thirty days.

​I just had to survive twenty-nine more without actually murdering him.