"I'm not asking you to," I respond, gentling my tone. "I'm asking you to accept protection. To stop running from what frightens you. To trust that I want your happiness as much as I want your safety."
"And the threat to tie me to the bed?" A hint of her usual spirit resurfaces. "That's not a cage?"
"That's a consequence," I clarify. "One I hope I never have to implement. But make no mistake, Seraphina—I meant every word. I will not lose you. Not to the sea, not to your fears, not to anything or anyone. If that requires extreme measures, so be it."
She takes a shuddering breath, her body trembling slightly beneath my hands. "I don't know if I can do this, Knox. Be what you want me to be. Live up to these expectations."
"I don't want you to be anything other than what you are," I tell her, surprised by her misunderstanding. "Fierce. Independent. Challenging. Those are the qualities that make you perfect for me. I don't want to change you, Seraphina. I just want you safe while you're carrying our child. I want you here, where you belong, instead of running from the intensity of what we have together."
For a long moment, she's silent, processing my words. Then, unexpectedly, she leans forward, resting her forehead against my chest. It's not surrender—not yet—but it's the closest she's come since I brought her to the island.
"I can't promise I won't try to leave again," she says finally, her voice muffled against my shirt. "I can't promise I'll ever be what you want."
"I only want you," I reply, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close. "Everything else is negotiable. Except your safety and our child's. On that, I will never compromise."
She doesn't respond verbally, but her body softens further into mine, accepting comfort if not defeat. It's not a complete victory, but it's progress. The storm between us hasn't passed entirely, but the most dangerous squalls have abated for now.
If she tests me again—if she makes another attempt to flee—I'll make good on my promise. I'll restrain her physically if that's what it takes to keep her safe. But for now, I'm content to hold her, to feel her breath against my chest, to know that she and our child are secure in my arms where they belong.
Where they'll stay, by whatever means necessary.
Chapter Nineteen
Seraphina
My hands fidgetwith the hem of my shirt as I pace the master suite, but I feel a warmth in my chest, an uncomfortable heat that I recognize as anticipation rather than fear. Twenty-four hours since my failed escape attempt, twenty-four hours of Knox watching me with those dark, intense eyes that miss nothing, twenty-four hours of contemplating his threat to tie me to the bed if I try to leave again. I should be outraged. I should be calling domestic violence hotlines. I should be plotting a more careful escape. Instead, I'm toying with the idea of deliberately testing his resolve, of pushing him to his limits to see if he'll actually follow through. What does that say about me? About the twisted connection between us that makes me want to provoke the very domination I claim to be fighting against? And why does the thought of Knox physically restraining me send a forbidden thrill through my body that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the darkest kind of desire?
The truth is uncomfortable: part of me has always responded to Knox's dominance, to his absolute certainty, to the way hetakes control when everything feels chaotic. It's what drew me to him in the first place—that unwavering intensity, the sense that here was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and would move heaven and earth to get it. The same qualities that eventually drove me away.
But now there's the baby to consider. Our child, growing inside me, connecting us permanently regardless of my conflicted feelings about its father. Knox's protectiveness takes on a different dimension when viewed through the lens of parenthood. Is it really controlling if he's trying to keep both me and our unborn child safe? Where is the line between protection and possession?
I need to know. Need to understand if there are boundaries to his control, if there's room for my autonomy within his consuming need to keep me safe. And there's only one way to find out.
Decision made, I pull on a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt—clothes suited for another escape attempt—and walk purposefully to the door. I don't sneak. Don't try to be subtle. In fact, I make enough noise that Knox, working in his office down the hall, will undoubtedly hear me.
Right on cue, his door opens as I stride past, heading for the stairs.
"Going somewhere?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual though nothing about his posture suggests relaxation.
"For a walk," I reply, not slowing my pace. "Need some fresh air."
He falls into step beside me, his longer legs easily matching my stride. "I'll join you."
"I'd rather be alone."
"Not happening," he counters smoothly. "Not after yesterday."
I stop at the top of the stairs, turning to face him directly. "So I'm under house arrest? Not allowed outside without supervision?"
"You're allowed anywhere on the island," he clarifies, "with appropriate supervision. Given your recent demonstration of poor judgment, that means me or security personnel."
"And if I refuse?" I challenge, deliberately provocative. "If I want to go for a walk alone?"
His expression hardens, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies my face. "You're testing me."
I lift my chin. "Answer the question, Knox."
"Then you don't go for a walk," he states simply. "Or you go for a walk with me beside you. Those are your options."
