Chapter 87 JUNIPER

Chapter 87 JUNIPER
Within minutes, I realised there were several things I had apparently misunderstood about nightclub culture.

For starters, nobody seemed remotely interested in personal space.

On the dance floor, bodies moved without much concern for boundaries—hips locked together, hands sliding over waists and shoulders, strangers grinding against each other under the shifting pink and blue lights like the rest of the room had stopped existing.

Near the bar, groups leaned in close over drinks, laughing too loud over the bass, glasses catching the neon every time someone raised a toast.

I turned back toward the dance floor, watching a group of girls shrieking over something one of them had said while a guy nearby attempted to dance and nearly took out a table.

Maybe I could survive this.
Then the entrance caught my attention.

Tracy swept in through the side entrance with her two usual shadows trailing behind her, all three of them looking like they’d raided the same designer boutique and agreed beforehand that subtlety was beneath them.

She paused just inside the club, scanning the room with that familiar, practiced confidence—as if every pair of eyes belonged to her and the entire place had been waiting for her arrival.

Then her gaze landed on us. I watched the realization happen in stages.

First, Knox. Then the arm he had casually draped around my waist. Then me.

Hunter said something beside us, and I laughed, deliberately leaning into Knox as though whatever he’d said was the funniest thing I’d heard all night.

My hand settled against his chest, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. Tracy saw it.

Her expression froze. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips parted slightly—but she recovered, smoothing her expression into something approaching indifference. Almost.

Beside me, Piper leaned closer. “Oh, this is going to be spectacular.”

I kept my eyes on Tracy. “What?”
She gestured subtly toward Tracy with her drink.

“The exact moment a woman realizes the story she’s been telling herself all day has developed a very inconvenient plot twist.”

“Let’s hope she buys it and leaves us alone,” I whispered.

Tracy started toward us. Her minions followed a few steps behind.

Knox hadn’t even noticed her, too busy saying something to Slate and Hunter, so I nudged his arm.

“Your ex just walked in. She’s making a very determined beeline for us.”

He glanced toward the entrance, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile.
“Correction. My five-star clinger just arrived.”

I snorted. “Five-star?”

“Premium package. Lifetime subscription. Apparently cancellation isn’t an option.” He leaned closer, his mouth near my ear. “And I can’t fucking wait to put her in her place.”

I glanced up at him. “You sound excited.”

“I am.” His grin widened, then he gave Tracy another look. “Although putting her in her place, admittedly, is going to be difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because her current position is already so far down, she’s practically got a permanent reservation in hell.”

I bit back a laugh. “That’s mean.”

"I'm being realistic." He straightened, completely unapologetic. "At this point, taking her down is going to require industrial excavation equipment."

I laughed. “Knox.”

“I’m serious. We’re talking hard hats, safety permits, a compass, and possibly a passport for the underworld.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m honest.” His eyes flicked toward Tracy again. “Although, judging by how low she likes to go, even the devil’s probably standing at the door saying, 'Sorry, we’re full.'”

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh. “That’s horrible.”

“Maybe.” His arm tightened around my waist. “But I’m still looking forward to it.”

Tracy reached us before I could reply.
“Knox.”

His expression barely changed. “Tracy.”

She looked him over slowly, almost deliberately, before her gaze finally landed on me, then dropped again—to his arm around my waist, to my hand resting against his chest—before returning to his face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m here pretty regularly.”

Her eyes returned to Knox. “I meant I didn’t expect to see her here… with you. This really isn’t a scene for the—how do I put it nicely—lower class.” Her gaze slid over Piper, then Katy, then back to me.

Knox’s mouth curved, all dry amusement. “Fascinating. I wasn’t aware the club had a bloodline requirement. Should we present paperwork at the door next time, or is the dress code exclusive to people you don’t like?”

Tracy’s smile tightened, but she recovered quickly, lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Oh, please. Don’t be dramatic, Knox. I’m simply saying this place has a certain… atmosphere.” Her eyes slid over me again, lingering just long enough to make the insult obvious.

“Some people fit into it naturally. Others look like they’re trying very hard to convince everyone they belong.”

I smiled sweetly. “It’s a club, Tracy. Not a royal coronation. I don’t think anyone’s checking anyone's family trees before letting us in.”

Tracy's smile didn't waver, but something colder slid underneath it. "No, they're not checking family trees. They're just looking at the outfit and doing the math themselves." Her eyes flicked once more over my dress, over Katy, over Piper, slow and deliberate.

"It's not exactly subtle, sweetheart. Some things you can't dress your way out of."

Something in Knox went very still beside me.
When he spoke, the easy amusement was gone, replaced by something colder and much sharper.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” His voice stayed level, but there was no mistaking the edge under it.

“You want to say something about me, fine, I've heard worse from better people. But you ever belittle my girl or her friends again—call them lower class, imply they don’t belong, or try that same shit again —and we’re going to have a problem that has nothing to do with this club and everything to do with how fast I can make sure you regret opening your mouth. Clear?”

I was still stuck on the words my girl. They shouldn't have affected me.

They were part of the performance. Part of the arrangement. Just another line Knox had delivered to make the whole thing convincing.

I knew that. My brain knew that.
Apparently, the rest of me hadn't received the memo.

A stupid, traitorous thump kicked against my ribs, followed by a warmth that spread far too quickly beneath my skin.

He leaned down and pressed a brief, deliberate kiss to the top of my head, then spoke against my hair, quiet enough that it was only for me.

“Don’t mind her. Some people just can't stand watching someone else be happy. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“Aren’t you two exhausted yet?”

Knox sighed, clearly already done with the conversation. “Exhausted from what?”

“This.” She gestured between us. “The touching. The smiling. This whole ridiculous performance.”

“What performance?” Knox’s eyebrow lifted, all faux innocence.

“Seriously?” Her laugh came out sharp. “You’ve never been good at pretending, Knox. Heck, you’ve never been in a relationship that required anything after one night of fucking. I was the only exception.”

Knox’s expression didn’t change, but something colder settled behind his eyes.

“That’s a creative rewrite of history. You weren’t an exception, Tracy. You were convenient. There’s a difference. And if you’re still calling that a relationship, I think you’ve confused consistency with commitment.”

That seemed to irritate her more than if he’d argued.

She folded her arms, and something in her tone shifted—softer now, more deliberate, her focus narrowing entirely onto him and leaving me out of it.

“I know you, Knox. Better than anyone. You’ll get bored. You always do.” Her voice carried an irritating certainty.

“And when you do, I’ll still be here. I’m the one you always come back to. I’m your future, Knox. Your fiancée. Your future wife, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

Knox actually laughed. Not a polite laugh. A short, genuinely incredulous one, like she’d just announced something so absurd his brain needed a second to process it.

“Your fiancée?” He slowly shook his head. “Jesus, Tracy. That’s quite the promotion.”

Her expression tightened. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do I?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “Because the last time I checked, you weren't even girlfriend. Unless there was a secret ceremony I somehow slept through.”

She glared at him. “Knox—”

“No, I’m serious.” His mouth twitched. “Did I miss a proposal? Was there a ring involved? Maybe a wedding date? Because I’d hate to find out I’ve apparently been engaged for months and nobody thought to tell me.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I disagree. It’s actually the funniest thing I’ve heard all week.”

“You know you’re coming back to me.”

“That confidence is impressive.”

“It isn’t confidence. It’s knowing you.”

He gave her a long look. Then he glanced down at me, and the change in his face was immediate. The teasing disappeared, replaced by something quieter and far more certain.

“The only girl I want is standing right here.”

My breath caught.

Don’t do that, I told myself. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t say it like you mean it.

His arm tightened around my waist, drawing me closer. “And she’s the only girl I can actually see a future with.”

Tracy stared at him. “You’ve known her for what? A few weeks.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His eyes stayed on mine. “I don’t need years to know how someone makes me feel.”

My heart stumbled hard enough that I was half-convinced he could feel it through the thin fabric of my dress. This was the act. The show. The carefully delivered performance designed to shut Tracy down for good. I knew that.

So why did it feel like the floor had shifted under my feet?

He gave my waist a gentle squeeze. “She’s the person I want beside me when I wake up. The person I want to take places with me. The person I want annoying me when I’m old and miserable.”

Then he looked back at Tracy. “So if you’re waiting around for me to get bored and come crawling back to you, I’d recommend finding something else to do.” A beat of silence. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze dropped to mine again. “Not when I’ve finally found the girl I want to keep.”

I held his eyes and tried, desperately, to remember that none of this was real—that every word was part of the arrangement, that I was supposed to look convinced without actually being convinced.

The problem was that some small, reckless part of me had stopped listening to the reminder entirely.