Page 40 of Knot Playing Fair 2

It’s just sex.

That’s my problem, not yours.

Really? I didn’t think you’d even noticed.

Making myself actually think about the question was surprisingly difficult. I licked my lips, thrown completely off balance by Emiel’s concern for my emotional wellbeing in the face of his own struggles.

“I...” Again, I hesitated. “I’m not sure I evenknowwhat I need right now. Byron... he’s really good at making me stop thinking for a few hours. When I think too much these days, it’s... not good.”

Emiel nodded, like he was really listening to what I had to say. Like itmatteredto him, even though I wasn’t completely sure why it should.

I cleared my throat and continued. “Being with Luca is different. It makes me feel like I belong somewhere, even if it’s just for now.”

“He’s been pushing you away,” Emiel said. “Since...” He gestured vaguely at the bruising on his face, neatly encompassing the cage fights and their ugly aftermath.

“He just needed some private time,” I said, too quickly. “The last couple of weeks have been hard on him.”

“You’re allowed to need things too, Mia.” Emiel’s voice was quiet; a low rumble that brought an unexpected surge of tightness to my throat.

I swallowed hard, pasting on a cheery smile with the ease of long practice. “All I need right now is for the restaurant reopening to go well. But... thank you for saying that. I mean, thank you forcaringenough to say it.”

For a moment, I could see the acute discomfort that seemed to come over him whenever too much attention came his way. I watched him push past it to meet my eyes and hold them.

“Everyone’s always wallowing in their own shit,” he said. “Too wrapped up in their problems to see anyone else’s. You came here and made us start to look past our own noses. I just wanted...” He broke off, losing the battle to hold eye contact with me. “I just wanted you to know that I see you, Mia Dimitriadis.”

My chest hitched once before I could stifle it. Breathing carefully, I waited until I was sure my voice wouldn’t waver before trying to speak. Where the hell was this sharp stab of feeling coming from? I wasfine. I mean, things were complicated right now, and there was a lot of shit going on... butIwas fine.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Emiel,” I said carefully. “I’ve got things under control.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know you do. Better than anyone else in this house, except maybe Zalen. Still doesn’t mean you should take our shit sitting down.”

I had no idea what my pheromones were signaling right now.

“Thank you,” I managed, and more or less fled from Emiel’s bedroom. “Glad you liked the cake!” I called over my shoulder.

When I reached the second-floor landing, I took several deep breaths and sank down on the top step for a minute, my half-eaten cake balanced in my lap as my thoughts spun.

This was ridiculous, I tried to tell myself.

It had just been an emotional day, that was all—what with Nat dropping the divorce bomb, and all the uncertainty around SSG, not to mention the restaurant’s relaunch. I stared down at the leftover cake, as a little voice whispered in the back of my head.You know exactly how to distract yourself for a bit, it said.

And... oh, hell, yes, I did. Rising on shaky legs, I turned down the hallway and walked toward Byron’s door in a daze. It was open a crack, the light inside dim. A moan drifted out from the interior, tailing into a low whine. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind me.

A circle of warm illumination from one of the table lamps played over two figures—one lounging on the leather couch, the other kneeling next to it. They were both still clothed, although Byron had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He was scooping up the smashed remnants of a piece of cake on two fingers—holding them out for Luca to suck clean.

An unexpectedly powerful wave of relief washed through me at the prospect of putting Emiel’s words out of my mind. I could deal with everything else, as messy as it might be. But for some reason, it felt like dealing with his unexpected concern for my wellbeing might be the thing to finally shatter me inside.

“I brought more cake,” I said hoarsely, as both of them looked up. “So, who’s volunteering to lick it off me?”

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