Page 124 of The Packaged Deal

“This is true.” I twist in his arms. “Do you want to make them dinner for when they get home? A special surprise?”

Adrian bites his lip. “I thought you couldn't cook.”

“It's a good time to learn, isn’t it?”

Adrian doesn’t look sold on the idea, but he shrugs and follows me into the house.

“You can supervise.”

“Thank you, very generous.”

I smirk at him and load up the tablet with the recipes I’ve decided to cook. “I want it to be perfect for when I seduce my pack.”

Adrian leans on the counter, and when I look over, I realise his eyes are fixed on my ass.

“Perhaps the cooking lesson can wait a while,” I murmur. His eyes lift to mine, and he crooks his finger.

I’m helpless to stop myself from crossing to him. When his lips meet mine, I forget about cooking. By the time I’m naked, gasping in his arms, all I know is him. But I don’t forget Sven and the horrible, horrible offer I just gave him.

thirty-three

Kandi

“Sven, just wait damnit!”

“No, we have to stop this guy. We can’t leave him out there-”

I grab him by the arm and pull him up short. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t fucking know, but everything is coming back. I just don't know. And then you all finding out about my past. It just doesn’t feel right.”

I reach up and cup his cheek. “We don’t care about your past. We care about you.”

“There's just…”

“Talk it out with me.”

I smirk at the look he gives me before he says,. “That’s my line.”

“Mine today, soldier.”

“It’s…this guy, this Trevor. I keep looking at his photo, and there’s just something familiar about him.”

We walk towards the apartments, ignoring the trash on the sidewalk and the broken couch, springs sticking out. I can’t tell what’s wrong exactly, but I’m alarmed now. If Sven thinks something’s off, well, I trust his instincts.

“Do you know him?”

“No, that’s the thing, I don’t.”

Sven presses on the doorbell. We hear movement inside, and I step to the side, hiding beside the wall of the apartment building we’re in. We’re on the first floor, but there are apartments left and right of us.

The door opens.

“Oh, hello dear, can I help you?” The woman is older, but her hair is dyed a deep brown. She has a cardigan wrapped around her and maybe in spite of this place, she has kindness and intelligence in her eyes, which give me hope.

“I’m sorry, ma am, I’m looking for Trevor?”

“Oh. No Trevor. Just me and Benson.”

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