Page 101 of Knot Their Starlet

Elijah steps aside, revealing an older man with salt and pepper hair and a general air of authority about him.

My breath catches in my throat the moment I scent his intense hazelnut whiskey scent.

Oh wow.

Okay, I seriously need to take a chill pill. Or a cold shower. Or both. At the same time.

If I felt like I was caught in Elijah’s gaze, I feel like I’m melting under the gaze of this new alpha. It lingers on me, almost feeling like a caress. It makes me regret the more casual clothes I chose for this outing. My leggings and cropped t-shirt feel childish in comparison to his expensive-looking suit.

“No,” Elijah drawls, averting his gaze from me.

“Good. My name is Everett Vaughn,” he says, stepping up to me and extending his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Andromeda.”

The moment our hands touch, a spark runs up my arm. His hand swallows my own. He shakes my hand like he’s spent his entire life shaking the hands of powerful alphas and businessmen.

Probably because he has.

Alphas are naturally more dominant than betas or omegas. It’s why you can often find a lot of them in leadership positions. Some of it is stereotyping, because I’ve definitely met plenty of alphas who shouldn’t touch any form of responsibility with a ten-foot pole, but some of it has a basis in fact.

The alpha standing in front of me, with my hand still lingering in his, is the most dominant alpha I’ve ever met.

And being in his presence, surrounded by his hazelnut whiskey scent, is making my inner omega want to bare her neck and start purring.

“Call me Andi,” I say past the lump in my throat.

“Andi,” he says slowly. “Very well. Andi, it is.”

A shiver runs down my spine when he finally releases his hold on my hand. I have to fight to keep from wincing when my chamomile perfume picks up a hint of honey, sweetening in the air around us.

Deep breaths, Andi. Stay calm.

“And who exactly are you, Mr. Vaughn?” I ask, tucking my hands into the pockets of Beck’s borrowed hoodie in an effort to keep my scent under control.

The older man’s startlingly blue eyes twinkle as his lips curve into a small smile.

“Please, no need for the formalities. Call me Everett.”

He pauses, as if waiting for me to say his name.

“Everett, then,” I nod. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, that twinkle not dimming a bit at my blunt words. If anything, he seems to like that I’m showcasing a bit of backbone.

“I’m Beckham’s label executive.”

Well, that explains the fancy suit and the air of authority. This is exactly the kind of alpha my mom would set her sights on to sink her claws into.

Hot. Dominant. And probably filthy fucking rich.

“He’s the label owner too,” Beck says.

Correction: hot, dominant, and definitely filthy fucking rich.

And everyone in this room can tell I’m attracted to him, no thanks to my scent.

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you. This may be a stupid question, but why exactly am I meeting you?”

“Because I was interested in meeting the omega who has everyone here all riled up,” he says, pitching his voice low.