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“I’m allergic,” she half-whimpered. “They give me terrible hives. And I need to stay here; I need to earn this money. I can’t… I can’t go home.”
I wheeled around. “Why not? What do you need money for?” Her eyes met mine, and she tried to paste a smile on that gorgeous face, but it trembled. I stepped up to her, and her shoulders were in my hands before I could stop myself. “Tell me what you need. Now. I insist.”
“What I need?” She breathed deeply, not answering, her eyelids fluttering shut.
“Anything. Anything at all.” I gripped her chin in one hand and moved the other to the back of her neck, tilting her face up to mine. Her skin was still too hot. I blew a stream of cool air over her forehead, and the air between us filled with my own alpha scent, and even more of hers.
Her mouth fell open, inhaling. Tasting the air.
Dr. Rimbolt murmured, “Ah, I see,” and backed toward the door, leaving.
Leaving?“Doc, where are you going?”
His eyes sparkled. “There’s nothing I can give Miss Soleil, other than some ginger ale and saltine crackers for her stomach. In fact, I’m fairly certain she has everything she needs right here.” And with that, he was gone.
Neither one of us moved, though my breathing was harsh, as if I’d run a race. And hers was short, quick pants that made me worry that she truly was ill.
“Are you… are you going to just keep holding me?” Soleil gripped the white plastic bench beneath her, as if she wasn’t certain what to do with her hands.
“Why?” I said at last, the word exploding out of me. “Why are you here? Why would a privileged omega like you take a nannying job, leave herfiancé”—I spat the word out like a curse—“to work on a boat? Are you playing games with him?” The security video I’d spied came to mind. “Or were you playing a game with my sister’s groom? Taunting him. Flirting?”
My gut churned. Was she even more duplicitous than Zoe, than the countless other omegas who’d put up with my sour disposition in hopes of snaring my billions?
She couldn’t be, though. The longer I was with her, the more I knew she was mine.
Or feared it.
She seemed to go rigid in my grasp, her eyes bright now, but with anger. “A game, huh? What is it with you alphas? You’re the ones playing games.” She closed her eyes and murmured, “If you can’t find the sunshine, be the sunshine.”
I backed away, uncertain. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just more of my fortune cookie sayings,” she said, her tone brittle. “I won’t bore you with them. Am I free to leave, sir?” She wore that hard mask of a smile now, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off her face.
“Why were you sick?” I demanded. “Why throw up?” She didn’t answer, just smiled at me like a lunatic.Fuck.I slammed out of the room, my cock stiff, my knot aching, and my mind buzzing with questions that I had no answers for.
I called Storm again the moment I was alone in my office. He answered with his usual good humor. “What the fuck do you need now, Grantham? We’re not friends. I’m not your personal hotline.” There was the sound of banging pots and pans in the background, and I waited for him to finish cursing me out.
“She’s not wearing the ring,” I said furiously. “You said she had a fiancé. Fuck, even she said it. She got engaged the day she boarded my yacht. Why did she run? Do you think the guy”—I couldn't make myself say her alpha—“did he try something? Was she coerced?”
“Did she say something like that happened?”
“She hardly says a word about anything to me! Nothing but fucking fortune cookie platitudes and sunny motivational poster quotes! I demanded she tell me what happened, about him, why she’s here, and she just… smiled at me!” I paced the room in quick circles. “She told my chef she liked my scent—no, she loved it.”
“She told you that?”
“No, I eavesdropped. She also said she’d never met an alpha she was attracted to before me. So whythe fuckis my Sunshine engaged?”
Silence met my shouted question. “Are you done?”
“Yes,” I bit out.
“You need to calm the fuck down. Her best friend says she’s engaged. But she won’t tell me anything else, and if I press her… Well, I’m not going to risk another attack from that woman again.”
I waited for an explanation, but none came. “Her best friend assaulted you?”
“Assault by bikini,” he groaned. Before I could ask if he’d been drinking, he went on, “Listen, I can try to find out more. But I know where you can get all the information you need. A source close to you. Very close.”
“Who?” I asked, but I knew.
