Page 107 of Rejected By My Shifter Billionaire
“—dealing with all that supernatural red tape.”
The knife sliced through the meat like it was butter, and I couldn’t help but flinch. My stomach did a nauseating flip as he speared a piece and lifted it to his mouth, all while maintaining unnervingly direct eye contact.
“Confidentiality?” Mom repeated, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of menace radiating from across the table like a heat wave. “With supernatural authorities?”
“Sort of.”
“Maryah,” Milano said in the voice that had probably made lesser alphas spontaneously shift back to human form, “what exactly did you do today?”
“I had a meeting,” I said, my voice getting smaller with each word like it was trying to disappear completely. “With someone important. About the agency. And I signed papers saying I wouldn’t talk about it. Blood Oval business.”
“How stressful that must have been for you,” Nicolo said sympathetically. He took a sip of wine, his movements casual and relaxed like a predator conserving energy before a kill. “I hope whoever you met with was understanding about your...situation.”
The way he said ‘situation’ had me gulping like the entire room was suddenly low on oxygen.
“Oh my goodness,” Mom breathed, completely missing the threat. “You had a meeting with someone important who made you sign confidentiality agreements. Someone from the Blood Oval.”
“Mom—”
“Someone high-ranking enough to require blood-binding NDAs.” Her voice was getting progressively more excited, vibrating like a hummingbird on espresso. “Someone you can’t talk about.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking—”
“You’re dating someone!” she practically shrieked, making me choke on air. “Someone important! Someone powerful! Oh, Maryah, this is wonderful!”
“What?” I choked on my wine, feeling it burn through the wrong parts of my respiratory system. “No! Mom, no, it’s not—”
“It makes perfect sense,” she barreled on, completely ignoring my protests like they were suggestions on how to improve her already-perfect lasagna recipe. “The secrecy, the supernatural connections, the confidentiality agreements. You’re seeing someone in a position of power and you can’t talk about it publicly!”
“That’s not—”
“Who is he?” Mom demanded, leaning forward with the intensity of a woman who’d been waiting twenty-five years for her daughter to bring home someone whose family tree wasn’t embarrassingly normal. “Is he handsome? What does he do? How did you meet?”
“That’s so exciting for you, Maryah,” Nicolo said warmly. “A secret romance with someone powerful. How...thrilling.”
The word ‘thrilling’ sounded like a death sentence delivered by a serial killer who really loved his job.
“I amnotdating anyone!”
“Then why all the secrecy?”
“Because—” I stopped, realizing I was about to explain that I’d accidentally submitted classified compatibility data to the Blood Oval and was now under investigation by freaking Atlantis royalty. “Because it’s business stuff that I legally can’t discuss without risking sanctions fromL’Alliance.”
“Business stuff doesn’t require that level of confidentiality unless there’s something personal involved,” Milano observed, and I caught the hint of amusement in his voice. “Unless you’re working with someone very high up in the supernatural hierarchy.”
My heart didn’t just stop; it packed its bags and moved to another country.
“Someone like Prince Alexei Lykaios,” he continued casually, like he was discussing the weather and not the end of my existence.
The wine glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against my plate with a crash that perfectly symbolized my life at that moment.
“Flip,” I muttered, staring at the mess of glass and red wine spreading across the white tablecloth like a crime scene.
“Prince Alexei Lykaios?” Mom’s voice had gone up approximately three octaves.
“Let me help you with that,” Nicolo said, immediately rising to grab his napkin. He knelt beside my chair, carefully picking up the larger pieces of glass with the gentle efficiency of someone who cared deeply about my wellbeing and definitely wasn’tplanning to use those same dexterous fingers to strangle me later.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
