Chapter 27 CHAPTER 27
The air in the committee room was sharp with tension. Not romantic tension — the kind that made your stomach coil before a fight. The kind Knox thrived on.
He sat across from me, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on the presentation slides. His expression was unreadable — pure business, no trace of the man who’d kissed me like he meant to ruin me two nights ago.
“Adjust the third graph,” he said, his tone even, clipped. “You’re missing the secondary correlation data.”
I nodded stiffly. “Already fixed it. It’s updated on the shared drive.”
He glanced up, eyes catching mine for a fraction of a second — long enough to make my pulse trip — then looked back down at his laptop. “Good.”
That was it. Just good.
Not a smirk. Not a side glance. Not a single word that hinted at the way he’d pressed me against the wall, lips hot, breath ragged.
No. Today, Knox was a machine. Polished, professional, perfect.
And I hated how much I noticed it.
The rest of the team filtered out one by one, murmuring goodbyes. Jordan threw me a look that screamed don’t you dare combust in public. Maya had to bite her lip to hide her grin before leaving.
When it was just the two of us, I packed my laptop faster than humanly possible.
“I’ll finalize the notes by tomorrow,” I said, forcing my voice to sound calm. “You can review—”
“I trust your judgment.”
My head jerked up. He wasn’t looking at me, but there was something about the way his fingers tightened around his pen.
“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “Okay.”
He stood. The chair screeched softly against the floor. “See you tomorrow, Yael.”
He walked past me, the faint scent of his cologne — something dark and clean — brushing against me.
And just like that, he was gone.
I exhaled shakily. My heart shouldn’t have been pounding like this. Not when we’d both silently agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.
Maybe that was for the best.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the dorms. The hallway was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows in long strips.
I replayed his voice in my head — calm, detached, utterly composed. It pissed me off that he could switch it off so easily.
Maybe it meant nothing to him. Maybe I was the only one who hadn’t moved on.
I was halfway down the corridor when someone’s hand grabbed my wrist — firm, sudden. Before I could react, I was yanked sideways, the world tilting.
A door slammed shut behind me.
It was dark. Cramped. My back hit something solid — a wall maybe — and panic shot through me.
“What the hell—”
“Yael.”
That voice. Low. Familiar. Too close.
My heart stuttered. “Knox?”
A faint light from the corridor seeped in through the crack under the door. Enough to catch a glimpse of him.
Broad shoulders. Sharp jaw. That infuriating calmness.
He was standing so close I could feel the heat coming off him.
I shoved his chest. “Are you insane? You can’t just drag people into closets!”
He caught my wrist before I could hit him again, laughter breaking out of him — deep and quiet. “Relax. It’s just me.”
“Exactly why I’m not relaxed!”
He laughed harder, and I wanted to smack him. “You should’ve seen your face.”
“Knox, I swear—”
“Don’t.” He leaned in a little, still holding my wrist. “You were about to hit me.”
“I was about to hit you!”
His lips curved, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Yeah, I know.”
God, his voice — smooth, lazy, dangerous. It slid down my spine like smoke.
I yanked my wrist back, glaring up at him. “Why are we in a closet?”
He leaned against the door, arms folded. “You were ignoring me.”
I blinked. “I was not ignoring you. You were ignoring me!”
He smirked. “I was being professional.”
“So was I!”
“Right,” he drawled, tilting his head, “because running away the second the meeting ended is very professional.”
“I wasn’t running—”
“You were,” he said, cutting me off. “Practically sprinting.”
I scowled. “I had things to do.”
“Sure you did.”
I folded my arms. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled faintly. “You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.”
We stood there, the silence stretching — thick, heavy, alive.
The only sound was our breathing. His was steady. Mine wasn’t.
He was still watching me, like he was trying to read something under my skin.
Finally, I broke the silence. “You can’t just—kidnap people into storage rooms.”
“Technically, this is a supply closet,” he said.
“Oh my God.” I rubbed my temple. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“That you scared the hell out of me!”
His expression softened, barely. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Well, you did.”
He nodded once, gaze lowering briefly before meeting mine again. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
I blinked. “You couldn’t do that in an open hallway like a normal person?”
He gave a small, crooked smile. “Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you would’ve walked away again.”
That shut me up.
His voice was quieter now. “I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone.”
“Do what?”
He hesitated — rare for him. “Whatever this is.”
I swallowed hard. “There is no this.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
I froze.
His hand brushed mine, barely touching, but it was enough. “You feel it too.”
“Knox—”
He took a small step closer, and I instinctively pressed back against the wall. His face was right there, inches from mine, his breath warm.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly.
“Because you kissed me!”
He smiled faintly. “You kissed me back.”
“That was—heat of the moment—”
“You sure?”
I glared. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not—”
He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “You keep saying that word like you want me to believe it.”
My chest tightened. “Knox, stop.”
He exhaled, slow, deliberate. “Say my name like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to want me.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” His voice was rough now, low enough to make my knees weak. “But I know you haven’t stopped thinking about it either.”
My pulse was out of control. “You have an ego problem.”
He smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair off my face. “And you have a denial problem.”
I slapped his hand away — lightly, more out of self-defense than anger. “We’re in a closet. This is not the place for—whatever you think this is.”
He chuckled under his breath. “You keep saying this like you don’t know what it means.”
“Because I don’t!”
He looked at me then, really looked — like the noise between us had faded and only silence was left.
Then he stepped back.
Just like that, the space between us widened again.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Message received.”
I blinked, stunned by the sudden distance. “What?”
He reached for the doorknob. “You don’t want to talk. Got it.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t worry, Yael.” He opened the door, light spilling in. His tone was calm again, smooth, collected. “I’ll stay professional.”
And before I could think of anything to say, he walked out — leaving me standing in the tiny closet with my heartbeat still tripping over itself.
The door swung shut behind him.
I pressed a hand to my chest, whispering, “What the hell just happe
ned?”
My reflection stared back at me from the metal cabinet door — flushed cheeks, wild eyes, hair slightly out of place.
He’d barely touched me.
Barely said anything.
And still, I was shaking.
Professional, my ass.