Games 027

Games 027
Hartley POV

Knox, he used to be an old friend and the rest, we did things together, he came out as gay to us but I, I couldn't even accept my sexuality. I had to keep pretending, trying to make sure he doesn't see the fact that I was in love with him.

My phone rang, I picked it up to see it was one of my men.

"Hey boss, you might want to see this,” my man said on the other end, his voice sounding a little uneasy.

I frowned, standing up from the couch. “What is it?”

“It’s Knox Morgan. He’s back in town for real, I think he's not just visiting because he's hosting an event tonight, a private gallery thing downtown. His name is all over it.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course he is,” I muttered under my breath. “He never does anything quietly.”

“You want me to keep an eye on it?”

“No,” I said after a pause. “If I show up there, it’ll start talk I don’t need right now. Just… send me updates.”

“Got it, boss.”

When I hung up, I sat back down, elbows resting on my knees. My heart was still pounding harder than I wanted to admit.

Knox.

The name alone used to mean something steady, something that felt safe in the middle of all the chaos I was living in back then. He had been bold, loud, unashamed of who he was why I had always envied that.

And I loved it, too.

But I’d never said it. Never could.

So I buried it, buried him.

The last time I saw Knox before he left town, he confessed to me and I told him I didn’t feel the same.

I watched the way his eyes went cold, watched the smile he always wore fall apart right in front of me. I’d walked away before he could see me break.

And now, after all these years, he was back, stiu the same, even more handsome and my stupid heart did that flutter stuff.

I raked a hand through my hair. “Damn it, Knox…”

My phone buzzed again, this time a message. From Maddox.

~ Maddox: He’s back, isn’t he?

I stared at the screen for a long second before typing back.
~ Me: You already knew. Why are you asking?

The reply came almost immediately.
~ Maddox: Because if he’s in town, he wants something.

I leaned back, letting out a dry laugh. Of course, that was what Maddox always thought of everyone, he gets the thought that people only ever came to him for something.

But Knox looked perfectly fine today, not like he could do anything.

But it still scared the hell out of me more than anything.

I pocketed my phone, grabbed my jacket, and stood up.

"I went in to my office."

The door creaked open behind me.

“Boss?”

It was Dylan, one of my men. He looked hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if I wanted company right now.

“What is it?” I asked, turning toward him.

“There’s more.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Apparently, Maddox’s people already bought two VIP tickets to Knox’s event. I think he’s planning to attend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Maddox is going?”

“Yes, sir. Camille just made the payment.”

That bastard. Of course he was going to show up, who was I kidding? He never let anything slip past him.

I took a slow breath. “Fine. Then I’ll go too.”

Dylan blinked. “Sir?”

“I said I’ll go.” I grabbed my keys from the table and slipped on my coat. “If Maddox’s going to see him, then I will too. I’m not letting that man think he still has the upper hand.”

Dyy hesitated, then nodded. “Should I send someone to escort you?”

“No need. I’ll drive myself.”

Once he left, I stood there for a second, gripping the steering wheel in my mind before I even touched it. My chest was tight.

I muttered under my breath, “You’re a fool, Hartley. A damn fool.”

But even as I said it, I was already heading for the door.

After a bit dressing up and making sure I looked attractive, I left my house.

The car ride was mostly a mess, traffic and my hands sweating and betraying me.

Arriving at the venue, the place looked good, cars where lined up everywhere and I couldn't even see a lot to park up.

I walked inside the building, soft classical music filled the hall, the place looked expensive and excellent.

And then I sighted Knox Morgan.

He was dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks that fit like sin, his hair slicked back, a faint shimmer on his skin from the gallery lights. He looked completely at ease, like he was a good, his beauty is ethereal.

He spotted me instantly.

His expression didn’t falter, but his lips curved, slow and knowing.

“Well, well,” Knox said, walking toward me. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, Hart.”

I forced a smirk. “You didn’t think I would let you waltz back into town without saying hello properly, did you?”

He chuckled, that same low, dangerous sound that used to undo me. “Hello, then.”

There was a beat of silence. His eyes lingered on me for a brief moment — soft and unreadable.

Then, he casually said, “You look good.”

“Don’t start,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Still bad at taking compliments, huh?”

“Still too good at giving them,” I shot back, but my voice came out quieter than I meant.

For a second, neither of us spoke. Just the sound of distant chatter, a violin, the soft clink of glasses.

Then Knox stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne, something dark, musky and smooth.

“You ran last time,” he said softly. “You going to run again?”

I swallowed. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you plan to break me this time.”

Knox’s lips curved, but there was no humor in it. “You already broke yourself, Hartley.”

And damn him, he was right.