Page 39 of Knot Their Arrangement

Between Astraea's wealth and connections as Blair Vesper and Velvet's immense influence in the Omega community, they could probably make this whole situation disappear with a few phone calls. They both have the power to pull strings, to create solutions where none seem possible.

But that's exactly why I can't ask them for help.

I've spent my entire life being a burden — to my mother, to my family's reputation, to everyone who's ever tried to protect me. I ran away from my wedding to stop being a pawn in other people's games. How can I turn around and ask my friends to risk everything they've built just to save me from my own failures?

A lump forms in my throat as I prepare to turn away from the club's entrance.

Maybe I can make it back to the Haven, pack a small bag, and be gone before anyone notices. Leave a note explaining why I had to?—

The weight of something heavy and warm settles across my shoulders, and suddenly my senses are overwhelmed by the most intoxicating combination of scents I've ever encountered.

The first hits me like expensive whiskey; aged oak and leather-bound books, with hints of rare oud and something darker and enriched like cologne, but not the new shit they create. It’s vintage, a rarity in itself type of aroma you’d only smell around the wealthy.

It reminds me of hidden vaults filled with priceless artifacts, of board rooms where billion-dollar decisions are made over glasses of scotch that cost more than most cars. There's a complexity to it that speaks of old money and older power, but underlaid with something predatory that makes my Omega instincts stand at attention.

This is what real power smells like.

But woven through that dominant scent is something achingly familiar – the same intoxicating blend of coffee, bourbon, and sandalwood that I encountered earlier tonight when I crashed into that mysterious Alpha. The memory of that brief contact makes my skin tingle, and combined with this new scent, it's almost overwhelming.

The two distinct aromas shouldn't work together – one speaking of shadowy power and carefully cultivated danger, the other carrying notes of justice and protection – but somehow they complement each other perfectly.

Like opposite sides of the same coin, they create something wholly unique and inexplicably alluring.

I feel my body react before my mind can catch up, my Omega instincts recognizing something my conscious thoughts haven't quite grasped yet. The coat around my shoulders feels like both protection and claim, its weight significant in ways that have nothing to do with its obvious expense.

I tilt my head back, drawn by an instinct I don't quite understand, and find myself drowning in eyes the color of aged amber whiskey.

Golden brown with hints of honey and caramel, they hold an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. These are eyes that have seen empires rise and fall, that carry secrets darker than the shadows we stand in.

Our gazes lock, and his hand moves with deliberate grace to cup the back of my neck.

The touch is both gentle and commanding, ensuring I can't look away even if I wanted to. Not that I could – something about his presence demands attention, commands submission in a way that makes my Omega instincts purr.

From this angle, I'm acutely aware of his height – all 6'5" of him towering over my petite frame. His features are classically Italian, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that speaks of old-world nobility. His black hair falls in perfect waves, styled in a way that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent but looks effortlessly elegant.

"Mia principessa," he murmurs, the Italian rolling off his tongue like silk. The words carry both appreciation and possession, making my skin tingle. "Why did you come to the club first when I had every intention of picking you up?"

I blink, my mind taking precious seconds to process his words.

He's creating a cover story, offering me protection in front of the same woman who just tried to humiliate me. The realization makes me stutter, heat flooding my cheeks.

Holy shit…he’s helping me?!

"I... I knew you were busy," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to disturb you."

He makes a disapproving sound, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip in a touch so intimate it makes my knees weak.

"I will drop everything," he emphasizes each word with quiet intensity, "if it means ensuring my Omega gets where she needs to be in a timely manner."

Before I can process his words, he's leaning in close — so close I can see flecks of gold in those whiskey eyes. I hear the receptionist's shocked gasp just as his lips claim mine, and my world narrows down to this single point of contact.

That's twice today I've kissed complete strangers.

But this feels different from the accidental brush with the detective earlier.

This kiss carries intent, years of experience, and carefully controlled passion.

My Omega instincts surge to life, making my core clench with sudden heat as my body recognizes something my mind is still trying to comprehend.

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