Page 95 of Knot So Social

Even if Willow doesn’t want a lover, I’m all hers.

I drag on clothes and prep for work. I’d planned to do other lawns first so I could linger at Willow’s, but now I’ve changed my mind. Seeing Willow in person is the only thing that will calm me down right now.

Twenty minutes later I pull up in front of her property, arriving right at 8 am. Which I realize is a ridiculous, although legal, start time. I huff out a frustrated breath and slouch down in my seat, prepared to nap for an hour, but the gate slides open beside me.

She must be an early bird too.

The idea has me whistling as I maneuver my truck into her driveway and park up. Mr Shares bounds out through the front door, his cheery welcome making my bad mood evaporate instantly. Can’t stay angry around a seventy-pound wiggly noodle of energetic love.

I squat down to give him a proper hug before looking up at the house. The door’s open, but the entrance sits empty. My heart lodges in my throat as I rise.

“Willow?” I knock on the open door.

“Come in.”

Mr Shares leads the way, turning back several times to check I’m following.

“You’re here early,” Willow calls. “Have you had breakfast?” The omega’s in the kitchen, an apron protecting her fitted gray pantsuit.

“Hi. Not yet.” I halt, drinking in the sight of her. “Wow. You look amazing. Going somewhere special?”

Her hands freeze halfway through slicing cheese. “No, just to work.”

“Oh cool. Is your office nearby?”

She glances up, a calculating look in her eyes before her mouth quirks. She flips one thumb toward the next room over. Her home office.

I whistle and laugh. “Merda. You have fine style for working at home. If it was me, I’d be barefoot and wearing sweats.”

Her gaze ticks down as if she’s picturing it. Unlike Miranda, I don’t feel sexualized by her amused survey.

“Well, I do a lot of filming,” she offers, laying sunny side eggs on English muffins and topping with cheese and bacon. She slides a duo into the grill and then cracks two more eggs into the pan.

“Oh, that reminds me.” I pull out a stool. “I looked you up this morning. You’ve got such an amazing media presence. And I love your message.”

Her back spasms and the omega drops a whole egg onto the stovetop, gold yolk spilling out of its cracked shell. Willow whirls about, expression ice cold. My breath catches.

“I’d like to remind you that you’re under a non-disclosure contract with me.”

The egg sizzles, the corners turning up.

“Well, yes, of c-course,” I stammer.

Her jaw ticks. “That means you can’t talk about anything you’ve seen here. Go spilling my secrets, and I’ll come after you with the full force of my lawyers.”

I stare at the omega, whose eyes burn bluer than a hot flame’s center. What did I say wrong?

Worse than my blunder is the fear I read lingering behind her fierce mask. She’s afraid of me. No, of what I might do.

My heart plummets.

Chapter thirty

Willow

I stand rigidly in front of the stove, my skin tingling and my pulse pounding up a storm. My lungs constrict, squeezing my oxygen into short, sharp gasps while the dropped egg turns black on the hotplate.

Not again. I can’t show weakness in front of Alessandro again.