Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
QUINN
Logging back into the app I used to book a driver, I send a bonus and an apology. If I had known Pedro would be there, I would have made other arrangements. The driver was only doing his job and ended up nearly losing his life.
My father sending one of his men to make sure I got on the flight was an aggressive reminder of his reach, and a threat of what could happen to me, rolled into one. But I expected nothing less. Using Pedro to deliver the message was also a message.
Pedro has been my father’s guard dog for as long as I can remember.
Like a dog, he should be leashed and muzzled.
He’s a cruel man, who hides behind falsified prestigious education and hours of community service work.
I remember when he first came to work as a laborer to help build our pool house.
He worked himself up from nothing into the position he holds.
I had hoped he would have mellowed out and lost his violent tendencies, but I also hoped that a bomb would go off on my father’s plane.
Sadly, neither has happened. Nor will they.
And it’s for that reason I’m changing my twelve-month vision.
Honestly, when you plan on killing two assholes to protect the people you love, what’s another person or two?
“Is this seat taken?”
I startle, practically leaping out of my skin.
Looking around, I’m annoyed I got so caught up in dissecting this morning I lost awareness of my setting. That’s very dangerous.
Almost as dangerous as the man’s eyes.
Swipe that—all of him screams danger.
I take in a long exhale and try to hide how rattled I am. But it’s the wrong move on my part because I start to scent him.
He becomes unnaturally still as I look him up and down. And strangely quiet. Most Alphas would be demanding a response. Perhaps he is, but he’ll have to wait for my brain to switch back on.
I can’t do anything but drink him down like a woman who’s trying water after being in the desert for a thousand years. It’s one of those times when the world can wait while I savor the opportunity.
His skin is like steeped tea, glowing in vitality.
I want to know if it’s as soft to touch as I think it is.
And the same with his hair. I want to run my fingers through his jet-black hair before I press my nose behind his ear to breathe in his scent.
I just know how soft that spot would be and how his hair would tickle my face. Mostly, I know how good he’d smell.
I look up and find him doing exactly what I was. I don’t want to say perving, but it works too. His gaze travels from my feet all the way up my legs. His gaze is visceral, like a soft touch. A very nice, soft touch.
Since he was patient with me, I wait without moving too, even when my finger burns under my engagement ring.
When he looks at me, it’s not a passing glance. Whatever we’re sharing dips straight into intimacy. Especially when he doesn’t hide the lust from his deep brown eyes. They swim with desire, but they keep flicking back to my ring finger.
“Does it offend you?” I ask, twisting my foot behind my ankle, hoping it stops me from doing the iconic move Sharon Stone is famous for—flashing him shamelessly.
His lips twist into a wide smile. I guess I wasn't as smooth as I thought I was. But he shakes his head, his smile getting bigger, and like his smoldering eyes, his mouth billboards his intentions, which are so blatant I blush under his gaze.
“No.”
I laugh under my breath. “Take a seat, then.”
He’s taller than I realized, and it’s only when he’s sitting down that I notice. It’s always interesting how some men use their height to intimidate, but he doesn’t.
He could, though—intimidate someone, that is. But I’m not sure it would work on me when his scent is so overpowering I lock up after one little sniff. Not in a bad way. Goodness, no.
“If we’re both sitting in the same lounge, what are the odds we’re both going to UAE?” His voice elicits more of a response than what he’s saying.
I squirm on my seat, and he watches me like a wolf does a rabbit, making me squirm even more. For the life of me, I can’t find a single reason I should be worried around him.
“What are the odds?” I whisper before clearing my throat, searching for the usual tethers binding me to my life’s quest, but he’s become the only thing that makes sense.
“Do you have a stopover in UAE?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
He shrugs, not denying it. As he crosses his legs, the movement stirs the air and sends more of his scent my way.
I knew he was an Alpha, an attractive one, at that.
One second, I’m simply attracted to him, and the next, his scent twists through my body, intensifying everything, adding another complication to my life.
And finally, the voice in my head pipes up enough for me to hear. It’s not what I expected, though. There’s no push to escape or reminder as to what is at stake; instead, there’s a permission to take something just for me and spend a few hours in his arms.
It’s not often you find your scent-matched Alpha. And there’s no mistaking that discovery.
The paradox of us meeting now, when I’m days away from becoming a commodity bride, strikes like a blunt knife.
The space between us fills with the heady notes of his amber scent. My ambition is iced. My worries smooth to something else as he brings a sense of well-being, a taste of the haven he could provide.
He reacts instinctively, instantly and without thought. Exactly how a good Alpha should.
I inhale the gift of his scent, then hold my breath, watching him watch me while I search again for something to tell me not to do this. My subconscious is quiet, enjoying the moment for what it is.
The need for us to speak is replaced by his exotic and inviting scent.
Sweet promises get made as we say nothing to each other.
If his teeth stay out of my skin, those spur of the moment promises lovers make to each other will be breakable.
My heart will shatter, but I don’t think I can deny myself.
I want to, I really do, but I also don’t want to.
I eventually remember to answer him. “I actually do have a stopover.”
“Good. I’ll make reservations.”
“For dinner?”
“Bebe,” he purrs, “if we eat, it’s in the privacy of our room. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you that long.”
I hum, squeezing my legs a little tighter as my panties saturate, hearing his promises. His smile somehow gets even dirtier, and his eyes don’t lift from the junction of my thighs.
“Shall we plan to meet up mid-flight? It would do my head in if I thought you were uncomfortable and there was something I could do to help.”
A subtle overhead announcement interrupts us, asking all passengers to make themselves known to customer service.
He watches me closely as I listen, before standing up and coming to squat next to me. “I’ll go see what the issue is.”
His hand falls on the top of his chair, and as he leans down, his breath heats my cheeks. He stops near the shell of my ear. “I hope they’ve canceled our flight, then you’ll be soaking my knot sooner.”
He presses a small kiss to my cheek.
His whispered words and stolen touches remind me of the virtue of being a woman. If I wasn’t leaving for a different future, he and I wouldn’t happen. Since I'm already sacrificing so much of myself, I selfishly refuse to let this opportunity go to waste.
Spending time with him might be one of the greediest things I’ve done in a while.
And I can’t think of too many reasons why I shouldn’t get naked and sweaty with him.
My stomach is fluttering with excited, nervous energy.
I feel like a part of me is finally coming back online after the night at the restaurant with Kade.
I guess I have a type. This Alpha and Kade share good looks and ooze sex appeal.
Neither of them comes across arrogant or conceited; their masculine energy is off the charts but balanced perfectly by their lack of brazen ego.
Instantly I know it would have been incredible to have them both in my bed at the same time.
He’s got Kade’s trait of being able to talk pleasantly to people he meets, so I hope that doesn’t mean he’s also a cop.
That sudden thought unlocks my anxiety. The reminder that life is not all I pretend it is has me watching him closer, searching for any tells.
But even if he were an officer of the law, the sizzling thrill he brings means his choice of profession wouldn’t necessarily be a deal breaker.
As long as he isn’t one of Victor's men, I don’t think anything would waylay me.
My head races, anxiety stacking on top of anxiety.
I should walk away. This is insane, even entertaining the idea of admitting he is my scent-matched Alpha, spending time with him, risking so much.
I slam my eyes shut, trying to quell the spinning vortex threatening to swallow me whole.
I focus on breathing first, then moving on to the frantic race of my thoughts, leaving my beating heart to last. And once everything is calmer, I restart my questions, challenging myself to think logically and strategically.
Each answer, whether right or wrong, ends the same—doing this is selfish, but I should anyway.
When he passes over his ticket and passport to the lady at the counter, I get an inkling we might be spending our time together sooner, rather than later.
The swagger in his step as he returns, along with the accompanying plume of his rich, sensual amber scent all but confirms it, settling my warring thoughts.
My brain switches off, letting me sink deeper into a very Omega moment. He is mine. For today, at least.
He clears his throat, calling my attention. I was there already, kind of.
“The aircraft has a technical issue. They’ve given us a couple of options, but it depends on where you’re headed.”