Chapter 4 The Dinner Party

Part 1: The Entrance

The car rolled to a stop at the foot of a mansion that made Knox's look modest.

Pale stone, ivy-wrapped balconies, a curved driveway lined with black sedans and silent, suited drivers. Ivy's stomach twisted before the door even opened.

Knox stepped out first, then offered his hand to her.

Not like he was helping.

Like he was claiming.

Ivy took it anyway.

Inside, the estate was a dream built for intimidation. Low lights, mirrored walls, voices like silk and steel floating under the hum of an invisible string quartet.

"Who's hosting?" she asked as they walked through the marble foyer.

"Julius Roth."

She looked up. "The defense contractor?"

Knox's mouth twitched. "Among other things."

Great.

"Do I have a role tonight?" she asked under her breath.

He didn't look at her. "You're here to listen. Look untouchable. Smile when I say something cruel."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Anything else?"

He turned his head just slightly.

And said, "Don't leave my side."

They entered the dining hall.

The room was a curated threat: long table, gilded place settings, people who wore power the way others wore perfume. There were barely ten guests, but each one could buy a city.

And every pair of eyes turned when Knox walked in.

And then to Ivy.

Some smiled. Some didn't bother.

She recognized two CEOs, one senator, and a woman whose tech empire was rumored to be funded by a cartel.

"Knox," Julius Roth said from the head of the table. Heavyset, pale-eyed, with a voice like gravel. "And the infamous fiancée."

Ivy gave a polite smile.

Julius looked her up and down, like he was assessing a new weapon system. "You're prettier than the rumors."

"Disappointment is hard to stage," she said sweetly.

There was a pause.

Then Julius laughed. "Oh, I like her."

Knox didn't smile, but his hand pressed lightly against the small of her back.

He liked that answer.

As they took their seats, Ivy could feel the atmosphere sharpen. Everyone was watching. Every gesture, every glance between them was being read like code.

They weren't playing house tonight.

They were playing war.

---

Part 2: The Flirt

Dinner was a ritual.

Not for nourishment - no one here ate more than a few bites - but for display. The wine was top-shelf, the conversation was cold, and Ivy could feel the calculations behind every compliment.

She kept her posture perfect. Smiled when Knox looked at her. Nodded in the right places. Played the part.

But then he sat down.

Bastian Vale.

Early forties, lean, charismatic in a way that felt practiced. He ran one of the largest AI security firms on the West Coast and had the reputation of a man who thought rules were quaint.

He also couldn't stop looking at her.

At first it was subtle - casual glances, a smile during a dull speech.

Then he leaned in.

"I don't remember Knox ever bringing a woman to one of these."

Ivy gave him a polite smile. "Maybe he was waiting for one worth showing off."

Bastian chuckled. "So you're the upgrade."

"Temporary model," she said. "Limited-time contract."

It was a joke. But Bastian's eyes sparked.

"I like a woman who reads her fine print."

He clinked his glass against hers, fingers brushing hers on the stem. Too long. Too casual.

Knox didn't move.

Didn't speak.

But Ivy could feel it-his presence, going still. Focused.

Bastian leaned in closer. "If he ever bores you, Ivy, you should know I don't believe in expiration dates."

Her smile didn't waver. "If he ever bores me," she said sweetly, "I'll be too dead to care."

Laughter rippled around the table.

But not from Knox.

He set his fork down.

The sound made Bastian glance over - and freeze.

Knox was looking at him the way a tiger might look at something that had walked into its enclosure by accident.

Then he turned to Ivy.

His voice was soft, but it landed like a command.

"Come here."

She blinked. "I'm sitting."

Knox's chair scraped back.

He extended a hand.

"I said. Come. Here."

The table went silent.

Ivy stood.

Not because she wanted to.

Because not doing it felt impossible.

She stepped toward him. He took her wrist - not gently, but not cruelly - and pulled her into his lap.

Gasps.

A few stunned chuckles.

Knox looked at Bastian, hand wrapped around Ivy's thigh now, just high enough to say mine.

"Do you want to flirt with her," Knox said, "or do you want to keep your kneecaps?"

Bastian raised his glass again. "Message received."

Ivy stayed frozen in his lap.

Knox leaned in close to her ear.

"Now smile," he whispered. "They're watching."

So she did.

She smiled.

And she didn't stop.

Not even when Knox's hand squeezed tighter.

---

Part 3: The Exit

The moment they were alone in the car, Ivy turned.

"What the hell was that?" she snapped.

Knox didn't look at her. His jaw was clenched, one hand tapping against the leather armrest in rhythm.

"I warned you," he said.

"You warned me to stay close. Not to let you turn me into a possession in front of ten billionaires and a senator!"

"You're not a possession," he said coldly. "You're a liability. Unless I make it clear you're not for sale."

"By groping me like I'm a trophy? By threatening someone because he talked to me?"

Knox turned his head. Finally.

And in the dark, with the faint city lights flashing over his face, he didn't look cold.

He looked furious.

"Because he didn't just talk to you," he said, voice low. "He touched you."

"You told me to play along."

"I didn't tell you to flirt back."

"I didn't!" she snapped. "That's what kills me. You think I wanted him to say that? That I enjoyed him acting like I was some corporate side dish?"

His hand shot out.

Not to hit her.

To trap her.

His arm blocked her against the seat, caging her in without ever making contact.

"You didn't stop him fast enough."

Her breath hitched.

"You really think that little of me?" she whispered.

Knox didn't answer right away.

When he did, it was quieter. Rougher.

"I think I can't stand the idea of anyone else thinking they have a claim to you."

Her throat tightened.

"This was supposed to be fake," she said.

He leaned in.

Nose to hers. Heat radiating between them.

"Nothing about the way I want you is fake."

Silence.

"Ivy," he said softly, "I meant it. I will destroy anyone who touches you."

She could barely breathe.

Not because she was afraid.

Because she wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.

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