Page 69 of Inside the Sun

What? I’m obviously going insane. I shake it off immediately.

Even if he’s not on a mission to test me, he’s clearly someone’s lover in this place. One of the mafia’s boys. I have no business paying him any attention.

And yet I sneak one more glance. Can’t help myself.

His skin is golden, like he tans regularly but carefully. Smooth. His muscles aren’t oversized, just defined. Faint veins trace a delicate pattern across his forearms. I’ve always liked that on a man.

He turns slightly to the side, offering me a view of his profile. Sweet lips. Long lashes. His neck and collarbones are deliciously exposed. The pale, unblemished neck glands are on full display, and for a second, my eyes are fixed on them.

But there’s an unexpected element there. A golden neck ring, or something that looks like a Celtic gold torque. Rather thick and not exactly fitting his style. Since he has no other jewelry, that one stands out. Oh well, I’m not here to judge his taste in accessories.

The young man turns his flawless face toward me and, I’m sure of it, catches my interest in his neck. So I quickly glance again at the nearest yucca planter.

If they sent this guy to seduce me or shake me up, they picked the perfect weapon. Someone with looks like that could probably disarm anyone. Likely even guys who are exclusively into omegas.

The scent of sweet orange body wash reaches my nose as he takes two steps forward, closer to the planter. His skin smells clean and fresh, and a subtle shiver runs through me.

But immediately after, I feel a flicker of sudden irritation. What the fuck. Hell to the no.

Without saying a word, I start walking away toward the next set of plants. I can feel his gaze on my back.

Still, maybe taking off like that without a word is more suspicious than small talk. So I toss over my shoulder, "Have a nice day," just to keep up appearances.

More than anything, I just hope he doesn’t notice, or sniff, that… my traitorous dick is starting to press against my pants. That would be bad.

Stopping at the far corner of the garden, I force myself to pull it together.

Why did I even start talking to him? A discussion about spider mites? I’m not here for that. It’s too dangerous. Yes, I should try to gather as much intel as I can, but picking a mafioso’s lover for that seems downright desperate.

He lives in the mobster's estate, probably is fine with mafia ways. He's basically one of them. Extreme caution required. And I'm on a mission here. My brothers need me.

But as I keep working, images of the pretty mafia boy just won’t stop looping in my head. That elegant, dancer’s build. Sun-kissed skin. Those rich golden waves of hair. Why does he have to be exactly my type? A type I didn’t even know I had, until now.

Fucking distraction!

The young man heads back inside soon after. The patio finally empties. What a relief.

I make my way toward the kitchen for lunch. The entrance is about a hundred feet from the glass doors he disappeared through.

Inside, a group of soldiers is sitting around the table. I recognize most of them by name now. The deputy butler is there too.

I never start conversations, and absolutely avoid asking questions, that’s what would raise the most suspicion. If I do chat, I steer it toward neutral ground.

While I’m eating, one of the guards says to the other, "Saturday’s off, there’s gonna be a banquet. Maybe we’ll hit up Alonso’s?"

Alonso’s is a bar about five minutes from The Sun by car. I know thesoldatihang out there from time to time.

Another banquet?

So far, I’ve never stuck around for any of them. As a gardener, I have no business being near the guests. It’d be highly unusual if I hovered nearby doing what… mowing the lawn? Staring at them, making everybody wonder what I’m up to?

I’m only ever called in afterward to clean up.

But the thought crosses my mind, maybe this time I could… drag out my tasks a bit and find a way to hang around.

The pressure on me is building; I need to find a way out of this stalemate. I simply can’t handle another call from my parents, their tears, their pleading for me to do something, to find Summer, to figure out what happened to Moon.

It’s already too much for my nerves. I need to make a move, stir up some energy, trigger some kind of chain reaction, push the situation forward. Anything’s better than this goddamn paralysis and lack of results.

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