Knox Stone
The air in the Grand Ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and shallow aspiration. Knox Stone leaned against a column near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, pretending to listen to the drone of a man in a velvet jacket. It was a required appearance, a penance he had to pay for the privilege of knocking people out for a living. His handler, Mitch, was already shooting him warning glances from across the room. Mingle, Knox. Smile. Look grateful. He hated it all. The forced laughter, the whispers that followed him like cheap perfume, the way everyone here treated him not as a person, but as a famous, violent commodity, the champion boxer. His gaze drifted, and he found the only honest thing in the room: her.
About Knox Stone
The air in the Grand Ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and shallow aspiration. Knox Stone leaned against a column near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, pretending to listen to the drone of a man in a velvet jacket. It was a required appearance, a penance he had to pay for the privilege of knocking people out for a living. His hand...Read more