AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Oh, right.
Because I sucked his breath like he was giving me CPR.
I duck into the bathroom, praying Reese follows orders and stays hidden, but back in real life, after a gargle of mouthwash breaks his chokehold, I’m the one about to be revealed.
My real pheromones claw my scent glands from the inside, raging to be free. After I grit them down, there’s nothing left.
Serafina’s lemon either burned off or got snake-charmed and stolen away by Reese.
I wasn’t planning on taking another hit of my sister’s poison, but I also wasn’t planning on him and his beard taking a swing at a kiss, leaving me freaking ragged when I need to be on point.
It takes too long to slide the case off my thigh. I drop a vial twice before it plugs into the needle cartridge.
Palms sweating, I finally shoot up, riding the roar of lemon while the mirror strobes and citric acid reflux eats the lining of my throat.
The vials are teeny—only a few concentrated drops per dose. Brandon jammed in enough liquid Serafina to last me for weeks.
But this had better be my last hit.
I can’t keep this up.
Drunk-stumbling to the couch, I wrench on my heels, then smooth the lace of my dress to make sure all the bumps and secrets stay under wraps.
With my mask game on and a whole lemon wedged down my throat, I fold my hands in my lap, obediently waiting for the boss to arrive.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
A clock ticks, and every so often, alpha chatter buzzes through the floor.
I guess Nikolaj prioritizes pre-gaming with the bidders over saying goodbye.
If he sees the daughter he raised as furniture, I don’t want to fuck around and find out how he’ll treat the secret baby from his tryst with an undercover fed.
I’m box-breathing when the lock clicks. Then I choke on a corner.
Nikolaj Redfang doesn’t enter a room.
He takes it over.
Dense pheromones sink my shoulders, the taste of ash and cigar smoke stopping my lungs.
Nikolaj has neat, silver hair and blue eyes so sharp, his cutting once-over turns me into a wax figure. When his eyes pinch, his wrinkles bunch.
He’s older than I expected.
Seventies, if not eighties.
But age only hones his dominance.
I barely feel the enforcers filling the room behind him. If I passed those alphas on the street, I’d slip my keys between my knuckles. Next to my father, they’re ghosts.
Tight as a spring, I contort my fingers in my skirts.
I remember my lesson from the phone.
