Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
SIMONA
K eeping my hands on my lap and my ankles crossed properly under the chair is near impossible when all I want to do is kick off my heels and curl up in a ball, to luxuriate in the presence ingrained in this office. I probably should have chosen one of the uncomfortable King Louis dining chairs in front of the desk, but an undeniable tug towards the worn deep-brown leather Chesterfield seat drove me to the opposite side of the room.
The office is quiet, given it’s inside whatever establishment Porte Noire is, it’s safe to assume the walls are thick or soundproofed. There’s no noise except the steady tick of the clock, and the race of my heart.
Being here is oddly comforting, despite the endless questions about what Brody is doing here. I’m not an idiot, but before I make assumptions as to what kind of place it is, I’d like to speak with the manager. Although, I have a growing suspicion he’s forgotten about me.
I decide two minutes more is all I can afford to wait. Since Brody and the others slipped out of the restaurant early, I’d rather be waiting out where they can’t avoid me than stuck in here—especially if whatever game Brody’s playing is going to drag on and on. I’d rather face him, take the consequences, and get back to Unity.
Not that I’m one hundred percent safe there either—not with Brody now on the register as my brother. I suspect it’s all part of his long game, just like the looming threat of having to endure a medical exam.
All these threats hanging over me are suffocating, but how I feel is almost irrelevant, and it has to stay that way or I won’t have the focus needed to get everything lined up and ready. It’s easy to divert my attention to life at Unity, but hard when he keeps showing up. At the same time, I won’t give him the satisfaction of calling him out on anything he’s doing. Not yet, anyway. Once I have a means to escape, and a place to hide, that’s when I’ll make my move.
I watch the clock, giving the man I’m waiting on until the last second. Opening the door as quietly as possible, I’m looking behind to make sure I haven’t left anything when I walk face first into someone.
Little stars shoot across my eyes. And it takes me a second to realise they’re not because I hurt myself.
“Mr. Torres?” Is all I manage. The shock at seeing him makes my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He looks different. Gone is the Alpha with a passion for talking about aperture and depth of field, instead I’m faced with him in a tuxedo smelling like the first strike of lightning in a tropical storm.
I trot backwards. By the time my butt is back in the Chesterfield, I realise he was corralling me where he wanted me to go.
“You were thinking of leaving?”
I watch him prowl around his desk like a panther. With the distance between us, breathing becomes easier, but nothing slows the spike of my pulse. Adrenaline burns through my blood—entirely reactive to his scent and presence. When he sits, I drop my gaze from him completely, focussing instead on my hands folded neatly on my lap—spurred on by my mother’s endless etiquette coaching.
“Simona?” he pushes when I don’t answer.
“I thought you may have been busy. I was waiting for a while.”
Without looking, I can feel his eyes on me. It’s a very distracting feeling being in front of him and nothing like when he is at school.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he barks. But it’s in cadence only, not soured by his designation.
Not that it matters. He seems to have that special something, submission oozes out of me and I feel myself wanting to appease him in any way possible.
Being asked so directly is disarming and honestly, I should be asking him why he is here. But the question slips from my mind, before I’ve had the chance to consider if I should ignore the question. “You said when I was ready.”
There’s no chance of ignoring the sharp intake he makes. It’s as obvious as a clap of thunder. He’s unusually still afterward though, and I risk a quick glance and end up staring. His eyes are shut, and it looks like he’s counting backwards or something. In the next second his eyes pop open, and they lock on mine. Being caught by him, it’s strange to describe what it does, but I definitely don’t feel anxious like I do with my family—or Brody.
The green of his eyes are incandescent tonight, amplifying his good looks, reinforcing the tragedy of our meeting because I’m sure I’ll be forever enthralled by him.
Eventually, he says, “Thank you for being honest. ”
Although it was unnecessary, I knew what he was going to say before he spoke, and I was right.
“Of course,” I echo, just as needlessly. We sit back in unison without breaking eye contact. How we act is strangely intimate. “What is Porte Noire?”
“My club.” And then he’s the one to look away. “It’s an Alpha club, and we provide numerous services to our clientele.”
Maybe because we have an obvious connection he’s being overly direct, or more likely the Alpha I saw at Unity isn’t the real Mr. Torres. I respect his decision to keep different parts of his life separate from the other. Hell, it’s how I’ve survived so far.
“A sex club?”
He nods his head in confirmation. “One of our more popular services, although we offer others. But the real question is why are you here? By yourself, Simona? You know better than to walk alone, or do you have guards waiting outside that I don’t know about?”
Then it’s my turn to blow out an obviously shaky exhale as my anxiety starts to climb. I’d like to be as composed as possible facing off with such a strong Alpha, but my anxiety isn’t about being locked in his office along with him, it’s got to do with sharing with him the reason I’m here.
“To meet an Alpha.”
“Brody Henderson, I take it? Or is it someone in his party you were meeting? How about you explain the connection to me because I can’t see it.”
I forbid you.
Nausea claws up my throat, my scent starting to leak through the blockers in my distress. Again, it’s not because of his questions, it’s the reminder of the truth.
I forbid you.
In a perfect world, I’d never be forced to say the words circling loudly in my thoughts. I rip the band-aid off. “He is my pack. Brody is my Alpha.”
Honestly, I feel like I am confessing my sins. The weight of the guilt and remorse I carry around is mine to bear, but speaking those words aloud, especially to him, makes the burden even heavier.
I forbid you.
My gaze falls low but not low enough. I see the impact of my words as clearly as if I slapped him across the face.
I feel awful confessing to him, knowing that, in some cruel twist of fate, he’s mine too. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t admit it. I already hurt—I don’t need to say, ‘ Are you aware we are scent matched? ’ to know how he would feel. I’m already feeling it for the both of us.
It takes no time at all being in his presence to fall back into the same sense of homecoming I felt the first time I saw him at Unity. Inside me, he unlocks a thunderstorm of regret—a confirmation I never wanted. I hate him a little for it, for how effortlessly he makes me feel so much, simply by being in the same room.
I forbid you.
The bitter truth burns on my tongue—the anger, the fear, the certainty of how bleak the future with Brody looks. But those truths are mine to bear. Why burden Hendrix or myself with something that changes nothing? All it would do is magnify how truly alone I am.
I let myself get caught up in the sweet romance of meeting him before. But the stark reality is undeniable: I already have an Alpha. An obligation. A duty.
Before I even properly realise, I’m on my feet backing further away from him with a growing need to escape.
My manners flare bright, memories hold me from running without asking for permission to leave. “Please may I leave?”
“Please, Simona, we’re not at Unity. If you want to go, I wouldn’t stop you,” he insists, pointing towards where I desperately want to go. “Or you could stay and tell me what is going on.”
I forbid you. I forbid you. I forbid you.
Brody’s bark slams against my subconscious. Shredding everything in its path. The need to leave Hendrix is visceral. It’s nearly impossible to fight against. Even in my memories Brody makes me feel weak and pathetic. Except everything about Hendrix stirs things back to life. And some of those things should stay dead and buried, if I want to survive my life back home.
I’m torn, by the soft tender compassion in Hendrix’s suggestion, to tell him what is going on. It slows my escape enough to have me wondering if I can actually share with him my reasons.
I probably should be asking why Brody is in a sex club, but the questions I want to ask aren’t about Brody. Everything I want to ask is about him, me, us. I’m completely thrown by the fact Hendrix and I have been pushed together by fate again. Like the instant I walked into his classroom back at Unity, it feels so right being in his world.
That’s the hardest thing about the situation: the sense of peace I feel. My thoughts are rushing past like leaves caught in gusts of winds. My heart pounds heavy and out of sync leaving me feeling giddy—or maybe it’s the fullness of my soul, so overflowing that it’s giving me a sense of lightness. It’s extraordinary the way his thunderstorm scent breaks through the scent blockers we were both wearing almost like he knows I need a guide to cling to.
I forbid you.
And that’s the final push. My resistance fades. Along with my hopes and dreams.
Shaking my head, I cut Hendrix off before I sever whatever strange connection we have. “Photography clashes with my schedule and the additional workload seems pointless really, considering I won’t be pursuing a career in it. The other students are more deserving of your time. I’m going to switch electives.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t get up, nor does he stop me. I know I need to leave, because of Brody, but mostly because of me.
Something is happening. Meeting Hendrix at school, now here? Meeting Ryder and pleasuring myself on a phone call? Brody here, playing games, making me chase him from one destination to the next.
I don’t understand what is going on except I feel something deep inside my chest, pulling me all these different directions. But those paths aren’t mine to follow, no matter how much I wish they were.
Out of the office, my thoughts twist, but this time a trickle of relief seeps through. I know leaving was the right choice—because if Brody could glimpse even a sliver of how free and happy I felt at the mere mention of their names, he’d make me suffer like never before. Maybe it’s because I’m leaving, giving in to the command locked inside my head, but it feels like Brody’s hammering influence dissipates.
I’m distracted, caught up in a hundred what-ifs, and I don’t realise Hendrix is behind me until I catch a glimpse of his imposing presence. Except that’s a lie. The truth is I felt him the second he was near. His presence wraps around me like a haven of protection, filling parts of me with warmth and light that had long since been dark and dormant.
Led by nothing but instinct, I spin around, cutting off Hendrix before he has the chance to slow his steps. But that was unintentional—because deep down, I wanted it to happen.
Hendrix is full of haunting beauty and breathtaking emotion, pulling me off course without so much as a single touch. We end up face-to-face in a nearby room.
There’s endless control in his shimmering green eyes—not the kind that dominates, but the kind that’s steady and unyielding. As if in this fleeting glimpse of whatever alternate universe we occupy, he’s giving me a choice. As naturally as breathing, I step making the space between us disappear. Our chests press together, and like the effect of his scent, a tremor runs through me, quaking as though thunder is roiling overhead.
Despite how tall Hendrix is, I barely come up to his shoulder, I don’t feel overshadowed. I feel sheltered.
And then he does touch me. He cups my chin and trails his thumb over my pulse. With a slight lift of his lips, he raises his eyebrows, as if he’s half-thrilled by the erratic beat of my heart. He presses on the spot again before leaning down and putting his lips to my ear without quite brushing against it.
I lean into the space, closing the distance between us. I might not have the words to properly express myself, but some things don’t need explaining.
His low, deep chuckle sends a sprinkle of tingles down my skin. The sound echoes in my thoughts, and I catch a snippet of it, locking it away to remember later.
I won’t need to though—because Hendrix was brutally clear in his words.
“You don’t need to speak to explain the very tangible connection we share, because I understand completely. But before I let you go, I do need to tell you a few things from my point of view.”
He draws in a deep breath, pulling my scent into his lungs. A low, rumbling purr accompanies his slow exhale before it shifts into something rougher, like a strangled moan. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and sparkling light dances across my vision as I fall under the spell of his thunderstorm scent. This time, though, it’s different—less of the storm itself and more of its aftermath. Like petrichor, the time when the earth is saturated with rain, full of promise of new growth.
“I see you as mine. Even without properly touching you, I see you coming alive in front of me. There’s no argument in my mind—no doubts about what I’m doing. And for the record, I’m making it clear: I want you as mine. I’m chasing you hard, Simona. I want to know your deepest thoughts. I want to hear your breath quicken in delight. I want to watch you fall apart under me. This isn’t lust. You aren’t something I have to have just to say I did. I want you because I know,” he whispers the words quickly, but I don’t miss any of them. “You are everything I have been waiting for.”
I open my mouth to respond, but already he’s speaking. Saying things I needed explained without me asking. “I’m a grown man. An Alpha with years behind me. We may have missed the time that came before this, but from this point on? You get every day that lies ahead of us. You need time? I’ll give you time. You need space? You have it. But understand this—you are my Omega. I don’t care if you belong to him . Stay his if you must, but know you are also mine. With that in mind, I do things differently than he does. From this point forward, you will not be without a security guard. Always. And what’s mine is yours.”
There’s a shuffle of movement, and he takes my bag from my hand. Lifting it so I can see, he slips a black Amex, a bundle of hundreds, and a phone into one of the discrete pockets.
I gasp, but he tips his head in question, a smug smile pulling his lips up. I suspect he thinks I’m overwhelmed by his generosity, and I am, but I’m also staggered by a crazy compulsion to feel his lips on mine .
I spring up, surprising him, but once he knows what I’m doing, everything else is forgotten. I hear a thud as my bag hits the floor, or it might have been my back as he sweeps me into his arms and holds me up against the door.
Hendrix doesn’t let me kiss him as if we were strangers, he kisses me like we have been lovers for centuries. Like lovers who are unapologetic in their hunger for each other.
His lips cover mine, his tongue licking along the edge, teasing but also demanding. Of course I open for him, but instead of deepening our kiss, his lips move quickly back to my ear.
“Such a good girl. So, fucking good, sweetheart,” he growls softly against my skin.
A whimper slips from my lips, an obvious ‘sir’. The word falls from me naturally and easily as breathing.
“You’re perfect,” he praises as he nips my scent gland.
His kiss was one thing, but his touch takes my breath away. The only way to describe the sensations, the release, is as if he’s flicked a switch, instantly bringing light to areas I thought would remain dark forever.
Excitement heats my blood, and he takes a pause to breathe me in, letting me hear all the layered sounds of his appreciation: fast breathing, a rumble like growl, a half-pained groan in encouragement.
“Perfume for me, coat every inch of my skin and all of my memories in your sweet scent. When I breathe, I want you in my lungs. When I talk, I want your taste, cookies and cream, in my mouth. And when I think of you, I want my cock so hard I can’t do anything but wrap my fist around it and feel the strength of our connection.”
A gentle press of his dominance and his words do their intended job, rippling past my defences, but unlike every time with Brody, Hendrix it is polar opposite. Natural and beautiful .
My head keeps spinning like I’m caught in the eye of a storm. And maybe that’s exactly what’s going on, a collision of sorts. A frantic thrill races up my spine as Hendrix’s lips drag from my ear back to my mouth, where he kisses me with the same intensity as his words. There is no way I can misconstrue anything.
“You asked me for time, and now you have it.”
I don’t fully understand what he means until I feel his hand around my wrist. I’m too captivated watching him to pay much attention to what he’s doing—until a sudden weight pulls my focus. His watch now hangs around my wrist, the leather strap and silver face resting loosely against my skin. It’s easy to see how often he wears it. It’s aged, and given the condition it’s in, it obviously meaningful to him.
He fills my lungs with his earthy scent, cupping my throat and pressing, as if to remind me to breathe. The whole time his eyes are wide open and he stares into my soul.
“Each time you walk away from me and go back to him, you do it knowing you are my future, and I am yours. Don’t waste any time second guessing my intentions because they’re very easy to understand. I want you as mine, and I will be making you mine. Despite him. When you are ready?—”
I boldly kiss the next few words off his lips before he can finish, chasing his mouth with a hunger I’ve never known. I wish I could see things as clearly as he does. Guilt flickers through me because I don’t—but in the same breath, something deeper, more primal, whispers that I do. Because with him, everything ‘feels’ right.
It’s hard to trust that intuition. I don’t want to question myself, but life has taught me again and again that everything can shift in a heartbeat. Maybe that’s why, right now, in this slice of time, I focus on what’s in front of me: him.
I rub my nose under his chin, searing his scent to my memories. I don’t back off or question myself. Instead, I lean in, nearly gluttonous as I try to steal away each and every second we share.
Time becomes almost irrelevant, all that matters is taking my fill of everything on offer. Sadly, it doesn’t mean the world stops turning or that Brody inevitably screws this up for me too.