She moves closer, standing beside me now, close enough that if I move just an inch, I’d brush her arm. Her gaze moves across the board, taking in each piece of evidence, each connection I’ve drawn.
“What are we looking at exactly?” she asks.
“Everything,” I say. “Gallery clients from the past five years. Rejected artists. Competitors. Enemies of the Sterling pack. Anyone with a grudge against you or us.”
Her eyes widen slightly at the scope. “That’s... a lot of ground to cover.”
“Yes.”
She studies the board for another moment, then turns to me, her expression thoughtful. “Where should I start?”
Something in my chest loosens at her willingness to help, at the lack of hesitation or fear in her eyes. Most people find my focus unnerving. She just seems... curious.
“Client records,” I say, pointing to a stack of files on the desk. “I’m looking for anyone who might have a personal connection to the damaged artwork.”
She nods, moving to the desk and picking up the first file. “I know most of these people,” she says, flipping through the pages. “At least by reputation.”
“That’s why I wanted your help,” I admit. “You see patterns I might miss.”
She looks up, surprise flickering across her face. “That’s... unusually humble for an alpha.”
I shrug. “Facts are facts. You know art. I know security threats. Together, we’re more efficient.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “When you put it that way, how could I resist?”
For the next few hours, we work in silence. I’m deep in financial records, but my attention is split. Ninety percent of it is on her.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she goes through each file. Her brow furrows slightly when she’s concentrating, and she has a habit of biting her lower lip, catching it between her teeth.
That one simple gesture, that innocent little bite... It’s enough to set my entire body on fire.
My mind flashes back to last night. To the sounds I heard.
I heard her door open. I heard Rett’s low, guttural growl. And then I heard her.
The soft, broken moans. The sharp, breathless gasps. The shattered cry of her release.
And now, watching her bite her lip, I can’t stop picturing it. Her, laid out on the bed, her long legs wrapped around Rett’s waist. Her face flushed, her eyes dazed with pleasure. I can almost see it. The sight of our alpha’s thick, hard cock stretching her, filling her, claiming her in a way the rest of us have been dreaming to do again. The thought of his knot buried deep inside her makes my own cock jerk, a hard, painful ache in my pants.
Ours.
The word is a possessive snarl in my own head. She’s ours.Which means her pleasure with Rett is a victory for the pack. This should be a good thing.
So why does it feel like a hot knife twisting in my gut?
“You’re staring,” she says without looking up from her file.
I don’t deny it. “You’re interesting to watch.”
Now she does look up, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Am I?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “Most people can’t maintain focus for more than twenty minutes. You’ve been working for almost three hours without a break.”
She blinks, glancing at the clock on the wall with surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“You get lost in it,” I observe. “The work.”
She nods, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. “I always have. My mother used to say I’d forget my own name if I got too deep into a project.”
