Page 39 of Knot Playing Fair 2

SIXTEEN

Mia

MAYBE IT WASN’T FAIRto invade Emiel’s private space while I was pumping out horny pheromones, even if my goal was to deliver the cake that he’d inspired. I really did feel kind of bad about it when he stiffened in his desk chair, his shoulders going tense as I mounted the top of the stairs to the attic bedroom.

“Hi,” I said, trying not to make a big thing of it. “Your cake was a hit, just so you know.”

“It’syourcake, not mine,” he replied, and at least he was still feeling comfortable enough to communicate with me.

I shrugged, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t have had the idea if not for you. Thank you for agreeing to lay off the pheromone suppressors for a bit, by the way. Have you decided if you’re going to start taking them again?”

I set his cake and a fork on the edge of the desk, then retreated to sit on his bed with my own plate. Princess, who was curled on one of the pillows, opened an eye. Then she promptly yawned at me and went back to sleep. Emiel picked up the dessert and swiveled his chair to face me. His heavy brows furrowed. The fading marks from brutal punches and kicks still marred his temple and cheekbone.

“Might hold off a bit longer,” he mumbled, turning his attention to the cake. “Going without them isn’t so bad. Saves money.”

“I’m glad,” I said, and took another small bite of my spiced chocolate and citrus confection.

Yup... it was still a winner.

Emiel followed suit. I watched him experiencing the first bite, the worried wrinkle between his brows disappearing as they shot upward.

“Good?” I asked, shamelessly fishing for compliments.

He took another bite, savoring it this time before swallowing. “Yeah,” he said. “I really like the way the chocolate in the center’s all gooey.”

I smiled, inordinately pleased. “Guess I nailed it on the first attempt after all. Congratulations, it looks like you’re officially on the Elderflower Inn’s revamped menu.”

He glanced up at me; a shy flicker of a gaze. I was struck, not for the first time, how little of the usual alpha swagger he showed in private. Outside of the fighting ring and that ill-advised, sweetly brutal sexual encounter during my heat, Emiel Hamilton was gentleness itself—whether he was cradling a frightened stray cat or tasting a new dessert.

“That right? How much do I cost, then?” he asked, in what sounded perilously close to a joke.

“That’s yet to be determined,” I told him solemnly. “The others were very insistent that you not be undervalued.”

He snorted. Somehow, during the course of the short conversation, he’d finished the entire small cake and was running the tines of his fork over the plate, gathering up the crumbs with some smeared bits of chocolate lava.

“Tell ‘em to fuck off,” he said. “I ain’t that fancy. Just make sure you make a good profit on every cake, that’s all.”

“Noted,” I told him, amused. Awkwardly, I played with the remains of my cake, aware that my perfume was still signaling my anticipation of what might be waiting for me downstairs in Byron’s room.

“You’re going to be with someone tonight,” Emiel said, surprising me. “Or thinking about it, anyway.”

I set my fork on the plate, aware that heat was rising to my cheeks.

“Does that bother you?” I asked, rather than answering directly.

He hesitated.

I let the silence settle, giving him time.

“I worry they’re not giving you what you need,” he said at last. “Byron’s a selfish ass. Luca’s not selfish, exactly... but he’s messed up, like me.”

I stared at him, flummoxed. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Not that, though. Possible answers flooded my mind, some of them defensive, some of them deflections.

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