Page 11 of Knot for Me
“Not anymore,” I correct him. She was fired as of twenty minutes ago.
“You had a maid?” She glares at me. “Then what the fuck do you want me for?”
“Probably because you’re a great conversationalist,” Marco says, flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror.
Cory is staring out the back window, pretending he’s annoyed by the whole situation. But there’s a slight tilt to his lips. He’s as entertained as Marco is.
Looks like I’m the only one that’s annoyed.
I plug my phone into the USB port and turn on some rock music, cranking the volume up to drown out her complaints. Marco shoots me an annoyed look and rolls his eyes. I flip him off where she can’t see. He’s an asshole.
It takes another ten minutes to get to her apartment. The building is five stories, and we follow Reagan inside to wait by the elevator. She huffs and crosses her arms over her tits, the white dress pulling low and exposing delectable curves.
Growling, I wrench my gaze away and stare a hole into the wall.
“What’s his damage?” Reagan asks.
“He’s PMSing,” Marco answers, snickering when Reagan laughs. “Don’t worry about Lucas. He has some anger management issues, but he’s fairly harmless.”
Glaring at Marco, I start to say something, but the elevator pops open and Reagan dashes inside.
“Chill out,” Cory whispers. “You’re putting off some serious rage vibes.”
Frowning, I follow the guys in and avoid looking at the center of my frustration. Technically, I know it’s my fault I’m stuck with her, but she needs to get a handle on her pheromones. They’re too potent, and I can’t think past getting her home and fucking her over my desk, marking her ass with my hand, and letting her know what I think about her smart mouth. Out of my peripheral, I see Reagan lean against the side wall, pressing into it like it’ll save her from the big bad alphas.
“You smell nice,” Marco says like a fucking idiot.
“Marco,” I snarl, scowling at him. “Leave themaidalone.”
Never mind that she does smell good. She’s not even in her heat yet. I scrub my hand over my face. Living with her is going to be a true test of restraint.
“God, you’re such a dick. This was a horrible idea. Maybe you should sell me back to Eduardo,” she says, bouncing her gaze between us.
“No.” I cross my arms and stare at her. “You’re ours.”
“Yourmaid,” she says with all the attitude of a pissed-off omega. I forgot how moody they can be.
“That’s right. You’re our maid, and we’re not selling you back.” Especially not if Melvin wanted her too. That bastard will have her doing some vile shit and that’s not happening. She can be mouthy and pissed, but she’s not getting out of this.
“Whatever,” she mutters as the doors open on her floor. She storms to her apartment, shoves the key into the lock, and pushes inside.
“Oh fuck,” Marco wheezes when he walks in.
“Damn,” Cory whispers, glancing back at me and wrinkling his nose.
That’s enough for me to steel myself against her scent, which is thickly coating the air. Her apartment is painted soft grey colors and has basic, mass-produced wall art. Her furniture is nice, but nothing fancy. None of that matters though because essence a la Reagan slaps me in the face like the last woman I pissed off when I said I wanted to end things. The sweet, caramel scent of her arousal floats under subtle touches of cranberry and vanilla. Reagan smells like my favorite candle I buy in bulk to keep from running out. She smells like a nice wine buzz on a cool fall night, but more than anything, she smells like trouble.
Trouble that I bought.
Marco and Cory sit on the couch, breathing through their mouths to keep from getting overwhelmed. I scan the room, gaze catching the window. Rushing over, I flip the latch and shove it open, letting in a much-needed breeze. Part of me wants to violently protest when the late summer wind starts to steal her scent away, but the logical side of me knows it’s for the best.
“We’re going to need more than a window,” Marco muses, glancing toward the hall where Reagan disappeared.
She’s rummaging around in her room, packing whatever she feels like she needs, and I can faintly make out the sound of her grumbling to herself.
“We’ll figure it out,” Cory says. He pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “There, I ordered air purifiers.”
Marco scoffs. “I hope you ordered industrial strength.”
