Page 12 of The Rogues

Happiness.

His feet are planted in place, his slanted eyes trailing over me with a dark knowing. His features are pulled tight with some kind of emotion that I can’t decipher.

Is it hatred? Does he hate me because of my proximity to Cleo? Is he angry that I’m the one standing across from him right now in this hallway?

We breathe in each other’s direction, unsure of what to do, or what to say. My skin breaks out in a sweat once more, and I realize that even if I wanted to speak, nothing would come out but panicked babble.

The door to the conference room opens abruptly, and I take an instinctive step back from the towering alpha. Donna’s intern appears, her eyes wide when she sees me. “Donna just sent me to retrieve you,” she says, then her eyes find Cyrus, his lips still turned in a mean scowl. “Oh, good. You’re both here. We can get started.”

She sidesteps, leaving the door open for our arrival. My throat bobs as I swallow, panic rising and swirling in my gut. Cyrus’s gaze flickers to me once more. His azure pupils are hard and sear right into me as he steps through the doorway, leaving me to question everything on my own.

What the fuck?

The intern is still staring at me, so I neutralize my features as best as I can (the way my media coach has tried to instill in me since we were first signed) and give her a nod of thanks before walking into the room. Whatever freak out this is activating will have to wait until I can properly digest the wild turn of events that has just occurred.

I have a fucking scent match and, to everyone else, he is my best friend’s ex.

Fuck.

FIVE

As the intern leaves the room to seek out the last member of Vicious Velvet, the label exec and Cleo Del Rossi continue to exchange words, not worried one bit about Malaki’s and my presence at the table.

“I don’t see how this can help either of us,” Cleo hisses. “It’s just another ridiculous tactic, and you know our fans aren’t going to buy any of it.”

“Your fans will be excited,” she declares. “Believe it or not, Cleo, but your fans and their fans have a major overlap. Our social media managers have already gone over it, and the percentages are telling. Would you like to try to come up with another reason why we shouldn’t do this, or can we get on with it?”

The omega crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I can’t believe this.” She looks at us then, and I swear her eyes are dark depths of black as she glares. A chill skates over me, and Malaki chuckles at the blatant attempt at intimidating us.

“Get over it,” Malaki tells her, his lips quirked up in amusement. “None of us get a choice in this, so let’s just make it as painless as possible.”

“That seems impossible when it’s already excruciating.”

The blonde of the group cackles at that, chewing on a piece of gum before she blows it out and lets it pop.

“We’re fun,” Malaki adds. “And we’re respectful, no matter how much you try to convince everyone else otherwise.”

Cleo stands, her hands going to the table in front of her. “Listen, you cretin, I⁠—”

But then the door opens, and the intern from before walks in with Cyrus and Vicious Velvet’s missing brunette band member.

“Good, you’re back,” their label executive announces with an edge of annoyance. “Cyrus, Josie… please take your seats.”

There’s a slight flicker of panic in Cyrus’s features as he walks to his seat, and I can feel the weight of something heavy on his shoulders through the bond. I’m not sure what it could be until his scent hits me, the dark chocolate subdued into a guarded fortress. But it’s not just his scent—there’s something else laced within it. Something refreshing and bubbly, like a flute of champagne on a sunny day.

My brows furrow, not recognizing the bubbly sensation. I know Cyrus’s scent like the back of my hand. I’ve inhaled it so often that I can recall it from memory alone, and this is not a part of it. It’s something new, something I shouldn’t be able to recognize.

But then I see the brunette staring at me, her olive-green eyes wide as she looks between us. She puts her head down, like she’s trying to hide as she makes her way to her seat, and suddenly it clicks.

Holy shit… I can smell her. Which means…

My body shoots up without thinking, an instinctual reaction to the shock going through my body.

No one is really paying attention to me except for the redheaded drummer and Josie herself, who pauses in place, her chest raised like she is holding her breath. Cyrus’s hand comes to my shoulder, and he gently pulls me back to my seat, his eyes trying to convey something I don’t quite understand.

Does he… not want us to say anything? Are we supposed to just continue with this meeting and pretend like something completely life-changing isn’t happening right now?

Is that why he looked worried? Did he discover the same thing I just did out in that hallway?