Gross.
Moretti closes the door in my face, stepping away to speak to the guy he called over. If I had to guess, he’s delegating the jobof locating my things. A few minutes pass as I shiver against the leather of the SUV. It’s freezing, or my adrenaline is crashing.
It’s probably both.
I scoot across the leather and into the back passenger seat. My elbow digs into the armrest, and I lay my head on my palm as I wait.
I’m exhausted and wired.
My blood sugar is likely low from not eating all day, but I’m not hungry. I’m more focused on the fact my family is about to put me through the wringer. This bullshit isn’t my fault, but they’ll find a way to blame me.
The rear driver’s side door opens, which was where Moretti shoved me into the vehicle. He climbs inside, and I don’t bother opening my eyes, but I can smell him.
The man always smells like sex on a stick.
The first few times I scented him, I convinced myself he was wearing scent-enhancing cologne. I was also fifteen, and even to this day, he’s one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in person.
A few ridiculous fantasies were had, but I told myself over and over again that I was just imagining our level of compatibility.
Back then, I still planned to be the dutiful daughter. Marrying the O’Connors would have made my family’s lives a whole lot easier, but I saw what an arranged marriage did to my mom. She married one man for love and another to bolster her family’s position, which turned out to be an awful idea. It took age and a little perspective to realize that I couldn’t let myself follow in her footsteps.
While I’ve always been wildly attracted to Moretti’s scent, I’ve done my best to seem unaffected. Usually, I have no trouble ignoring people, but Emory Moretti is impossible to disregard.
At least his scent is.
It’s stormy and chaotic.
Any time I’m close to him, I feel an almost magnetic pull to get closer. I didn’t even know human beings could come in lightning scent. It has to be some kind of warning from the universe that he’s dangerous.
“Are you okay?” the man in question asks, startling me out of my thoughts. “Did they harm you?”
I barely hold myself back from snorting. We both know he doesn’t care—outside of how much it will piss off my father and brothers.
“They drugged me, but that guy Magnum stayed with me the entire time. At least, that’s what he said. I was unconscious for a while.” I shrug, finally opening my eyes. It’s still freezing in the car. “He was tolerable. I’m fine.” My teeth chatter, and I contemplate asking him to turn on the car so someone can bump the heat up.
Moretti sighs, moving around in his seat. “Lean forward, Vanessa.”
My head whips in his direction, and he holds out his coat.
I follow his instruction, and he tucks his suit coat around my shoulders. I’m not going to turn down the extra warmth, but my teeth dig into my lower lip as his scent floods my senses.
This is so bad.
I ache to pull it off so I can bury my nose in the material. That would definitely give away my small crush on hisscent.
Not a crush on the man.
The man is intolerable.
It’s a scent crush.
Not a man crush.
He just smells so damn good.
“Would you like me to take you to my doctor to be examined?”
I shake my head more violently than I intend to. “No.”
