Chapter 86 JUNIPER

Chapter 86 JUNIPER

Knox texted at seven on the dot: Outside in five.

Of course he did. Because apparently when Knox Reyes decided something was happening, the concept of discussion became optional.

I’d given up arguing after the fourth attempt to explain that I was perfectly capable of getting there myself. Katy had physically taken my phone out of my hands and typed fine before I could stop her.

The whole thing had started an hour earlier, when I’d mentioned, entirely too casually, that Knox wanted to take me to a club tonight to “handle the Tracy situation.” Both Katy and Piper had gone suspiciously quiet.

“A club,” Katy repeated slowly, exchanging a look with Piper that I did not like one bit. “Dark. Loud. Convenient plausible deniability. Interesting choice of venue.”

“It’s about proving a point to his ex, not—” I started.

“Sure,” Piper said. “That’s definitely all it’s about. A dark room, loud music, an ex-girlfriend to make jealous, and you in that dress. Nothing suspicious there whatsoever.”

“You two are being insane.”

“We’re being thorough,” Katy corrected. “There’s a difference. What if he tries something? What if the whole ‘let’s give her a show’ plan is secretly code for ‘let’s see how long it’ll take to get into Juniper’s pants after two vodka sodas and some strategic lighting’?”

“He’s not trying to get into my pants.”

“He’s a twenty-one-year-old with money, a reputation, and a face like that. He’s absolutely going to try. The only question is whether you want witnesses nearby when it happens.”

Which was, apparently, more than enough justification for both of them to invite themselves along, on the grounds that—in Katy’s words—“someone responsible needs to be within shouting distance in case Knox Reyes gets any ideas.”

I’d pointed out that neither of them was particularly known for responsibility. Katy had ignored this. Piper had simply started looking up outfits.

So now the three of us stood outside my apartment building, me in the dress Katy had once again forced me into, Piper scrolling through her phone with the resigned patience of someone who’d already accepted her fate, and Katy practically vibrating with anticipation, when the dark car rolled up to the curb exactly on schedule.

Knox climbed out, dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves shoved up his forearms like he’d done it specifically to be unfair to every woman on this street, and rounded the car toward us with easy, unhurried steps.

Then he actually saw all three of us standing there, and stopped.

"Okay," he said slowly, glancing between me and Katy and Piper like he was doing math that wasn't adding up correctly. "I count more people than I was expecting."

"Surprise," Katy said, delighted with herself. "I invited myself and Piper along. Juni didn't have the heart to say no."

"Juniper didn't have the chance to say no," I corrected under my breath. "There's a difference. A very important legal difference, if this ever goes to court."

Knox exhaled slowly, like he was mentally recalculating the entire evening.

Then his gaze settled on me. And stayed.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly. Softer. "You look beautiful."

Simple. No teasing. No smug grin. Just three words that somehow knocked every sarcastic response I'd prepared straight out of my head.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Fantastic. Apparently I'd temporarily lost the ability to speak because a boy had complimented me.

He kept looking at me a beat too long — long enough that Piper cleared her throat pointedly.

"Okay, if you two are done eye-fucking each other on a public sidewalk, some of us are wearing heels and would like to sit down at some point tonight."

"Right." Knox cleared his throat, visibly reassembling himself, and gestured toward the car parked at the curb — not the Porsche after all, but something sleek and dark and considerably roomier, four doors instead of two.

"You didn't bring the Porsche," I said.

"Genuinely can't tell if that's disappointment or relief in your voice."

"Neither. Confusion, mostly."

"I have more than one car, Speckles. Shocking, I know." He opened the back door with a small, exaggerated flourish.

"Lucky I bought this one, otherwise we'd have had a serious problem trying to cram four actual humans into a car built for two."

His gaze flicked briefly to Katy and Piper, then back to me, dry.

"Though I'll admit, when I offered to pick you up, I wasn't fully briefed on the part where the entire advisory committee was coming along for the ride."

"We prefer 'oversight committee,'" Katy said, pausing halfway into the car. "We're here to supervise."

Knox shook his head, fighting a smile.
"Supervise what, exactly?"

"You. Your behavior. Your intentions. All of it."

"I don't have intentions."

Piper chuckled. “That’s adorable. Really. The man with a reputation for rotating through women like a group chat through memes is standing here claiming he has no intentions. Forgive us if we don’t take that at face value."

Katy pointed a finger at him, entirely unbothered. "We'll be watching you tonight. Closely. Based on your extensive and well-documented track record."

"Noted."

"And judging you. Silently, but with great intensity."

"Also noted."

"And if you try anything—"

"I've fucking got it, Katy.

Which was how, five minutes later, all four of us ended up in Knox’s car anyway—Katy and Piper in the back, still bickering over legroom and whose phone got to run point on the sound system, and me up front next to Knox, who drove with the specific patience of a man who’d planned a quiet arrival and gotten a small operation instead.

“This is not how I planned tonight going,” he said quietly, eyes on the road, watching the city lights slide past the windshield.

“Welcome to my world.”

The car pulled up outside Velvet a few minutes later, bass already thumping audibly through the closed windows, neon spilling pink and blue across a line that wrapped halfway down the block.

A small argument was already underway near the front of the queue—two guys loudly insisting they were on the list, the bouncer equally loudly unimpressed.

Someone further back shouted something about VIP. The whole thing had the energy of a minor sports riot waiting for a reason.

Most of the girls in line were freezing their assets off in tight little dresses that looked better suited for indoor temperatures and poor decision-making.

I watched one of them shift from foot to foot, arms wrapped around herself, and felt a brief, superior flicker of sympathy—maybe wear a jacket next time—before the universe helpfully reminded me that I was standing there in a dress that offered approximately the same thermal protection as a napkin. Right. No high ground for me tonight.

Knox handed his keys to the valet with a wince I fully understood, and we made our way toward the entrance.

The line groaned collectively as we walked straight past them all toward the bouncer—a mountain of a man in a black shirt two sizes too tight.

He took one look at Knox, nodded once, and unhooked the rope without a word.
Of course.

Katy and Piper followed close behind as we stepped into the heat and noise of the club. The air hit like a wall—bass, perfume, bodies, flashing light. Velvet was already packed, the dance floor a moving crush under shifting pink and blue lights.

We hadn’t made it ten steps before I felt it—eyes. The wrong kind. A small cluster of guys near the edge of the floor tracked us openly, one of them saying something to the others that made them all look harder. Another’s gaze dropped and stayed there, unsubtle and entitled.

Knox’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist before I’d fully registered the shift. He pulled me in against his side, solid and unmistakable, and when he spoke, his voice carried just far enough.

“Keep looking at her like that and we’re going to have a problem you won’t walk away from clean.”

The nearest guy’s smirk faltered. The group looked away fast.

Knox didn’t loosen his hold. “You good?”

“I was until the territorial demonstration,” I muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

I barely had time to orient myself before a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Took you long enough.”

Hunter was leaning against the far end of the bar like he’d been born there, drink already in hand, grin already loaded. Slate stood beside him, looking marginally less thrilled to exist, though he lifted his glass in a dry acknowledgment when he saw us.

“You’re late,” Hunter added, eyes flicking over the four of us with open amusement. “And you brought backup. Bold. I respect it.”

Katy stepped up beside me, already scanning the room like she was conducting a threat assessment. “We’re not backup. We’re supervision.”

Slate’s mouth twitched. “Of course you are.”

Knox’s hand settled lightly at the small of my back as he guided me further in, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Ready?”

“No,” I said.

He smiled. “Perfect.”