Page 29 of Knot Your Romeo

This is different.

I grab my romance book and try to focus on my reading, but a light switches on in a room in the manor house, drawing my attention. Romeo and Cerise stand at the window, and my stomach clenches at the sight of them together. She’s dressed in a stunning mini dress that sparkles and probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless. She looks like she belongs with him.

Romeo spins Cerise until her back is against the window. He’s in a dark shirt and pants that emphasize his tall frame and broad shoulders. But even from this distance, I can see the tension in his posture, the way he holds himself like he’s performing rather than celebrating.

Romeo presses Cerise against the window, his hands tangling in her carefully styled hair, his mouth on her neck. There’s an aggression to his movements that makes me uncomfortable. And I can see Cerise’s surprise at his intensity, the way she tries to gentle his touch.

But Romeo isn’t interested in being gentle. His hands move over her body with a hunger that borders on desperation and when he lifts her against the wall between the two windows, wrapping her legs around his waist, his eyes sweep toward my window.

Our gazes lock across the distance as his mouth nears her neck once more. Even in the dim garden lighting, I can see the want in his gray eyes, the way they fix on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing—if anything, his movements become more pronounced, his performance more deliberate.

He’s putting on a show, and I’m his unwilling audience.

The realization makes my cheeks burn with humiliation. He’s using Cerise to send me a message, to remind me of what I turned down, what I’ll never have now. He is letting me know he’ll claim her if he doesn’t get me.

I force myself to look away, focusing instead on the rest of the house where other guests move behind the lit windows.

But it's when my eyes roam the different rooms that I see him. A man standing in what looks like a study or library, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he speaks with an older woman I don’t recognize. His profile is familiar. Even across the distance and through the pane of glass, I know that silhouette as intimately as I know my heartbeat.

“Beck,” I whisper.

My mysterious stranger from Boston. The man who whispered “baby girl” against my skin and left me feeling cherished and devastated in equal measure. The man who disappeared before dawn, leaving nothing but four hundred dollars and a business card like I was some high-end escort he’d hired for the evening.

Beck has to be Mr. Silver.The estate owner. Romeo’s father. The Alpha who holds my mother’s employment—and, by extension, our safety—in his hands.

He’s also a man who can afford to treat random Omegas like expensive toys.

As if sensing my attention, he turns toward the window. And for a moment, the lighting obscures his features. Then he steps closer to the glass, and there’s no mistaking those sharp cheekbones, those penetrating dark eyes that seemed to see straight through me. Beck. The man who’d made me feel precious and powerful and utterly desired, then vanished like I meant nothing at all.

Our eyes meet across the space between the cottage and manor, across the chasm of wealth and status that separates us, and I see the exact moment recognition hits him. I see the moment his entire body goes still, the whiskey glass frozen halfway to his lips. And for several heartbeats, we simply stare at each other before his free hand comes up to touch the window.

Slick runs between my thighs as he presses his palm flat against the glass, and the gesture is so reminiscent of that night.

It all comes back to me. The way he’d touched my face with such devastating tenderness, and I jerk back from my window, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This can’t be happening. The universe can’t be cruel enough to strand me in the home of the man who’d used me so thoroughly and discarded me so casually.

But even as I try to convince myself it’s some terrible coincidence, memories flood back with crystal clarity. The way he’d commanded the hotel staff with casual authority. The expensive whiskey in his room. The business card for that upscale spa—of course, someone like Beck would have connections to the finest establishments.

And the money. God, the money he’d left me like it was payment for services rendered. The memory of those crisp bills makes my cheeks burn with fresh humiliation. I’d convinced myself he was being kind, giving me resources for my new life. But maybe he was just paying his bills like any other wealthy Alpha who’d purchased an Omega’s time.

The sound of voices approaching the cottage makes me scramble away from the window. Mom’s key turns in the lock, followed by her tired footsteps on the staircase.

“How were the party preparations?” I call, proud that my voice sounds relatively normal.

“Exhausting but educational,” she replies. “The Silver family knows how to entertain. Very...impressive operation.”

I wait until I hear her bedroom door close before returning to the window, drawn by a masochistic need to confirm what I’ve seen. Romeo and Cerise have moved their performance elsewhere. But the study window still glows with warm light, and Beck still stands there, his silhouette unmistakable.

As I watch, he raises his phone to his ear, speaking briefly before ending the call. Then he looks directly at my window again, as if he knows exactly where to find me. The intensity of his gaze across the distance makes my entire body respond with unwanted heat.

Even knowing what he is, what he thinks of me, my Omega instincts still recognize him as the Alpha who’d claimed me so thoroughly that night. Knotted me for the first time. My body remembers his touch, his masculine scent, the way he’d made me feel beautiful and desired.

My brain, however, remembers the money.

I close the curtains with more force than necessary, shutting out his watchful presence. But I can still feel him there, can still sense his attention like a weight on my skin. This changes everything. I’m not just hiding from Blake’s threats anymore—I’m living under the roof of a man who’s already had me, used me, and paid me for the privilege. A man who could destroy my mother’s livelihood with a single word. A man who holds all the power.

The cottage suddenly feels like a cage rather than a sanctuary. The walls that seemed protective now feel like barriers keeping me trapped within reach of a predator I can’t escape.

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