I don’t feel brilliant. I feel hunted.
“I do wish we’d gotten footage of the wedding,” he adds, waving a hand dismissively, “but we can spin it without that.”
“Nadine!” he barks.
The door opens, and Nadine glares at him like she’d love nothing more than to shove him off a cliff.
“I need photos of the wedding ceremony by the end of the day. We’ll also need to schedule an interview for tomorrow.”
He leans back in his chair, clearly done with us. “Any questions, boys? No? Excellent. Have a fantastic day.”
His wide smile is almost as horrifying as the chunk of broccoli lodged between his crooked, yellow teeth.
In the hallway, Nadine gives us her number so we can send her the photos she needs for the interview. Aksel scrolls through Eric’s phone and selects the least incriminating option. It’s the one where we’re standing in front of Minotaur Elvis, me in a ridiculous veil, Aksel wearing a hot pink clip-on bow tie. We’re kissing while Eric pelts us with rice like it’s the happiest day of his damn life.
For the millionth time today, I ask past me what the fuck he was thinking marrying this man.
The walk back through the twisting hallways and out of the convention area is silent, the weight of everything pressing down on us. I’m on autopilot as we step into and out of the world’s fastest elevator. My brain doesn’t catch up until we’re standing between our rooms, facing each other, the carpet patterned with loud swirls that make my head hurt.
I don’t speak. I’m afraid of what might come out if I do. I don’t know how I feel yet, and I don’t want Aksel figuring it out before I can.
He’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “We should probably go over the interview questions for tomorrow.”
Nadine said she’d email us a list so we wouldn’t be blindsided by anything too serious.
“Okay.Yeah.That’s…that’sasmartidea,”I mumble, fumbling with my key as I try to unlock my door.
“Here,” Aksel says quietly. “Let me.”
Hegentlynudgesmeasideandopensthedoorwith ease.
“Showoff,”Imutterundermybreath.Whyisita turn-on when he does that? It’s a fucking door. Anyone can open it. Except me, apparently.
He flashes that signature cheeky smirk as he swings the door wide open, and all at once, I remember exactly what I was doing the last time I was in my hotel room.
Fuck me.
We’ve been gone for hours, but that doesn’t mean the scent of my slick will have completely dissipated. I should’ve brought blocking spray to cover my tracks, but I wasn’t expecting anyone in my room except Eric.
What’s blocking spray, you ask? Oh, it's like Febreze but for pheromones. It's what you use when your body insists on broadcasting your emotional state like it’s running a 24-hour radio station called “Hormones FM”.
I consider reaching out, pulling the door shut, pretending I suddenly forgot something, anything, but Aksel is already stepping inside.
Gods.Justshootmenowandputmeoutofmy misery.
“Let’s order room service and talk,” he says easily. When I don’t move or respond, he turns back, takes my hand, and gently tugs me forward, pulling me into my room before I can talk him out of it.
I follow him on autopilot, too drained to argue, silently hoping the lingering scent of my contact heat doesn’t drag me straight back down that rabbit hole. I brace myself as I take my first breath inside the room.
Nothing.
No slick. No heat. Just lavender-scented cleaner and the sharp, metallic tang of blocking spray. Room service must’ve come through while we were downstairs. The bedding has been stripped and replaced, crisp and untouched, and the towels I used to clean myself up are gone.
I completely forgot that big hotels pump scent blocker through their ventilation systems, so even if room service hadn’t come before we got back, it still would’ve been fine. Thank the gods for small miracles.
Relief settles heavy in my chest, almost dizzying, right up until I realize there are only two places to sit.
The bed is freshly made, the fluffy white comforter practically begging me to crawl under it and disappear into my omega. The other option is a stiff leather chair by the window that looks about as comfortable as a church pew. As tempting as it is to give in and nest, the bed is a hazard right now. I know myself well enough to know that much.
