Chapter Six – A Dangerous Offer
If I thought I’d shaken him from my thoughts after that diner encounter, I was wrong. Alexander Knight lingered like smoke in my lungs—cold eyes, sharp words, the kind of presence you couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard you tried. I replayed his voice in my head until it followed me everywhere.
By the next morning, I was running on two hours of restless sleep. The diner felt smaller, the customers louder, the plates heavier in my hands. Carla asked twice if I was sick. I told her I was fine, but fine was a lie. I was cracking, splintering from the inside out.
All day I braced myself for another glimpse of him, though part of me prayed I wouldn’t see him again. Billionaires didn’t haunt girls like me. Men like him lived in penthouses and boardrooms, not the sticky floors of diners. I kept telling myself he’d already forgotten me, that I was just a brief distraction in a world too big for someone like me to matter.
I was wrong.
It happened after my shift. The sun had dipped, painting the streets in dusky gold, when I pushed open the back door with my bag slung over my shoulder. The alley smelled like old grease and rain-soaked cardboard, familiar and forgettable. But leaning against a sleek black car parked at the curb was the last man I wanted to see.
Alexander Knight.
My chest squeezed. He didn’t look like he belonged there—he never could. The alley was dirt and shadows, but he wore power like armor, his tailored suit cutting a sharp line against the grit.
“Miss Johnson,” he said smoothly, like my name was both a greeting and a reminder.
I froze halfway down the steps. “What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head, as though the question amused him. “We have unfinished business.”
“I don’t—” My voice faltered. I glanced toward the street, half-hoping someone would come by, but the alley was empty. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“No,” he agreed, his tone quiet but firm. “But your father does. Which makes you part of the equation, whether you like it or not.”
I clutched my bag tighter, nails digging into the strap. “Then talk to him. Not me.”
For a moment, something flickered across his face—something sharp, like impatience. Then it was gone, replaced with that unnerving calm. “Your father has proven himself unreliable. Weak. And I don’t waste time on weak men.”
The words stung, even though they weren’t about me. Dad might have been flawed, but he was still my father. “So what?” I whispered. “You’ll… punish me instead?”
He pushed off the car with effortless grace, stepping closer. My pulse thundered in my ears. “Punishment isn’t profitable. Solutions are.”
My mouth went dry. “What kind of solution?”
His eyes swept over me—me, standing there in my thrift-store uniform and worn sneakers. I’d never felt so ordinary in my life, and yet the way he looked at me made me feel like he already owned me.
“I’ll make this simple,” he said at last. “One hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars is not a sum you or your father can produce. But I don’t need money from you, Annabel. What I need is loyalty. Presence. Someone to play a role in a situation that requires… a certain image.”
I blinked, struggling to follow. “A role?”
His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “My life is public. Every move I make is dissected, analyzed, used against me. There are times when appearances matter more than truth. And lately, I’ve found myself in need of a… companion.”
The word hit me like a slap. “You want me to pretend to be your—what? Girlfriend?”
His silence was answer enough.
I shook my head, heat rushing to my face. “That’s insane. I don’t even know you. You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” he said coolly. “I know you’re desperate. I know you have something to lose. And I know that desperation makes people surprisingly… cooperative.”
I stared at him, my stomach twisting. He wasn’t just cold. He was dangerous. And yet, behind the fear, a sliver of something else cut through me—temptation. The kind that made you want to scream at yourself.
“What do I get?” I whispered.
His gaze sharpened, like I’d just passed some kind of test. “Protection. Stability. The debt erased.”
The debt. Those words alone made my knees weak. To erase one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars? To make the shadows vanish, the threats disappear? It sounded impossible. It sounded like freedom.
But it came with chains. I could feel them already tightening around my wrists.
“What happens if I say no?” I asked.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower, colder. “Then you and your father remain at the mercy of men who don’t ask. Men who don’t negotiate. Men far less patient than me.”
I swallowed hard. Images of the note, the ransacked apartment, the man watching me from across the street all rushed back at once. Saying no wasn’t really an option, was it?
“You’re asking me to give up my life,” I whispered.
“I’m offering you a new one,” he countered.
For a long moment, silence stretched between us. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but in that alley, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to his eyes and my shaking breath.
Finally, he pulled something from his jacket pocket. A card. He held it out to me. “Think about it. Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. My driver will pick you up. If you don’t show, I’ll take it as your refusal. But understand this, Annabel—choices like these don’t come twice.”
I hesitated, then reached out and took the card. His fingers brushed mine, brief but electric, and I hated the way it made my pulse jump.
Without another word, he turned and slid into the back of the car. The door closed with a soft, final thud, and then he was gone, swallowed by the night.
I stood there, staring at the card, my hands trembling. His name was embossed in silver letters, sharp and undeniable.
Alexander Knight.
I clutched the card to my chest and stumbled back inside, my thoughts spinning. Part of me wanted to tear it up, throw it in the trash, pretend none of this had happened. But another part—the part weighed down by numbers and fear—knew I’d keep it safe.
Because for the first time, survival looked like surrender.
And I didn’t know if I was strong enough to resist.