29. Alessandro #2
She stares at me, and a slow smile creeps across her face. “No, I don’t think I will.” She leans forward on the toolbox. “You see, I have needs, Alex, and you’re just the person who can fulfill them. You and that lovely alpha cock you’re hiding under there.”
My stomach quivers, nausea choking my throat. “With all due respect, ma’am, you’ll need to find someone else to meet those desires.”
She pouts and straightens. “Are you sure?”
Before I can answer, she peels back her trench coat. Underneath, she wears nothing but tasseled nipple stickers and a G-string with a garter belt.
“I mean it, Alex,” she hums, arching her back.
“I like you. I want your hands on my body. Nobody needs to know, and you won’t get in trouble.
I’m certain you’re not seeing anyone currently, because you’re always holed up in here at nighttime.
” She chuckles softly and tips her head.
“How long’s it been since you held a woman, Alex? ”
Years, to tell the truth, but not even decades of abstinence would make me want to fuck this woman. The only thing my hands itch to do is wrap her coat back around her and push her out of my shed. And somehow, the way she refuses to use my name burns equally as badly.
I grind my fist deeper into my towel. If only I wasn’t so damn naked underneath.
Miranda walks around the hitch.
I tried to be polite. Now my boundaries are beyond violated, and my alpha defense instincts rise. “Please leave.”
The woman shivers as a touch of alpha command vibrates in my throat. “Fuck, darling! You have no idea how wet your voice makes me.”
I growl, my entire body vibrating with anger. “Get out! Now!”
Her body snaps to attention, her hands twitching. Eyes wide, she backs up, lips quivering around her gasp.
The stark refusal still hums on my tongue.
She slams the shed door open, making the entire structure rock.
“You’ll regret this, Alex!” she hisses, before wrapping the coat around herself and storming out.
I stalk forward and yank the door closed, slipping the small chain clip in place to lock it. One hand on the timber beams, I stand in place, vibrating with fury for five full minutes, my temper and concern warring in equal measure.
The old adage runs through my head on a loop: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I always thought that meant a woman in a relationship who got cheated on, but the look on Miranda’s face promised revenge just for being turned down.
If it was as simple as fucking her, maybe I could do it, but not when she wants to sneak around behind her husband’s back. Mr Warkow gave me a place to stay and my first work recommendation. Once I moved in, he even taught me how to handle his guard dogs.
I could never betray his trust.
No, I need to find another place to live, fast. That much is clear. A growl simmers through me as I glance around the small, dusty space. The chances of finding anything as cheap in this neighborhood are next to zero, which means moving further afield.
Away from Willow.
That thought jolts me out of my state. Funny how proximity to her comes before concerns like accommodation and transport costs. And with her at the center of my thoughts, my heart says I could never fuck another woman.
Even if Willow doesn’t want a lover, I’m all hers.
I drag on clothes and prep for work. I’d planned to do other lawns first so I could linger at Willow’s, but now I’ve changed my mind. Seeing Willow in person is the only thing that will calm me down right now.
Twenty minutes later I pull up in front of her property, arriving right at 8 am. Which I realize is a ridiculous, although legal, start time. I huff out a frustrated breath and slouch down in my seat, prepared to nap for an hour, but the gate slides open beside me.
She must be an early bird too.
The idea has me whistling as I maneuver my truck into her driveway and park up. Mr Shares bounds out through the front door, his cheery welcome making my bad mood evaporate instantly. Can’t stay angry around a seventy-pound wiggly noodle of energetic love.
I squat down to give him a proper hug before looking up at the house. The door’s open, but the entrance sits empty. My heart lodges in my throat as I rise.
“Willow?” I knock on the open door.
“Come in.”
Mr Shares leads the way, turning back several times to check I’m following.
“You’re here early,” Willow calls. “Have you had breakfast?” The omega’s in the kitchen, an apron protecting her fitted gray pantsuit.
“Hi. Not yet.” I halt, drinking in the sight of her. “Wow. You look amazing. Going somewhere special?”
Her hands freeze halfway through slicing cheese. “No, just to work.”
“Oh cool. Is your office nearby?”
She glances up, a calculating look in her eyes before her mouth quirks. She flips one thumb toward the next room over. Her home office.
I whistle and laugh. “Merda. You have fine style for working at home. If it was me, I’d be barefoot and wearing sweats.”
Her gaze ticks down as if she’s picturing it. Unlike Miranda, I don’t feel sexualized by her amused survey.
“Well, I do a lot of filming,” she offers, laying sunny side eggs on English muffins and topping with cheese and bacon. She slides a duo into the grill and then cracks two more eggs into the pan.
“Oh, that reminds me.” I pull out a stool. “I looked you up this morning. You’ve got such an amazing media presence. And I love your message.”
Her back spasms and the omega drops a whole egg onto the stovetop, gold yolk spilling out of its cracked shell. Willow whirls about, expression ice cold. My breath catches.
“I’d like to remind you that you’re under a non-disclosure contract with me.”
The egg sizzles, the corners turning up.
“Well, yes, of c-course,” I stammer.
Her jaw ticks. “That means you can’t talk about anything you’ve seen here. Go spilling my secrets, and I’ll come after you with the full force of my lawyers.”
I stare at the omega, whose eyes burn bluer than a hot flame’s center. What did I say wrong?
Worse than my blunder is the fear I read lingering behind her fierce mask. She’s afraid of me. No, of what I might do.
My heart plummets.