Page 64 of Knot Your Business

Jasper nods. “Fair enough. Though we both play the part of well-dressed often enough that sometimes it feels like a second skin.”

He crosses the room, brushing his hands over his slacks before running his hand through his hair. He pulls Violet into his hold and kisses the top of her head.

“Do you believe me now? You’re beautiful, love.” He takes her hand and pulls her farther into the room and away from her clothes. He mutters, “Bianca’s going to have fresh pasta, and if we’re late, Victor and Lorenzo will eat it all.”

“They’re really that bad?” Violet tilts her head as she lets Jasper drag her closer to me.

“Sono golosi,” Dominic growls from behind me. “Cibo e donne entrambi.”

I twist and take a step back, keeping both him and Violet in my line of sight. To her credit, she doesn’t balk, her spine straight and her hands steady where she has them pressed into her stomach. Jasper laces his fingers with hers as the silence stretches on, his worried gaze flicking between them. I swear I can smell fucking grapefruit.

Before it grows strong enough for me to be sure of it, Dominic nods once and says, “È ora di andare.”

Jasper drops Violet’s hand and closes the space between him and Dominic, crowding into him and grabbing his hips.

“English, love,” he murmurs.

“Accidenti,” Dominic mutters, cupping Jasper’s face. “Mi dispiace.”

While I normally enjoy watching Jasper soothe and settle Dominic—who knew that would be such a turn on for me—I focus on Violet instead, stepping between her and the others and cradling her face in my hands. Her eyes are wide, but her lips are bracketed in tension and her shoulders are stiff.

Impressive that I hadn’t been able to tell any of her unease until getting this close to her.

Running my nose along her neck, I hum the newest guitar solo Mark has me working on for the studio. The tension slowly leaves her body, and I bite the small, sensitive spot where her shoulder meets her neck. She gasps.

“Remind me to hide your scent blockers,” I mutter. “It’s criminal I can’t smell you right now.”

“My scent’s all over the room,” she whispers.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” I say, biting her earlobe. She shivers. I run my hand down her throat, chasing the goosebumps. My own scent dominates the space immediately around us. “It smells better when it’s yours and not mine.”

She hums and tilts her head, giving me more room. “I don’t think you’d appreciate everyone else being able to smell me, though. Aren’t Victor and Lorenzo both Alphas?”

The growl is swift and vicious, but she laughs rather than tenses.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Scent blockers it is.”

Thirty

JASPER

The kitchen is bright and happy as the four of us pause in the threshold of the room, Dominic’s hand on the small of my back, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my slacks under my jacket. It always strikes me just how beautiful the room is, like his parents took a picture from the Italian countryside and recreated it to the smallest detail. Warm stone surrounds the large stove set against the far wall, and the warm gray cabinets contrast against the dark butcher block counter of the island. The large sliding doors that lead to the patio and pool are closed, but the large table is set for at least ten people. I do a quick count in my head.

Who’s the extra place setting for?

“Domenico, there you are. You had me thinking you weren’t going to show up.”

Bianca looks up for a second from where she’s chopping tomatoes, her hands never faltering. Alessia, Dominic’s sister, stands next to her, working through her own pile of tomatoes and dropping them into a large bowl set between them. She gives me a quick smile.

Lorenzo and Victor glance up from where they’re leaning against the back door and messing around on their phones, their heads close together as they discuss something.

Lorenzo smirks. “It’s his own event, Mamma. Not even Dom is that bad.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, her slicing speeding up.

“I’m excited to meet her,” a voice I don’t immediately recognize says, echoing down the hallway. “It’ll be nice to not be the newest person here.”

A woman about Alessia’s age steps into the large room, a tray of bread in her hands. Her blonde hair is pulled back, small braids running along the sides, and her eyes are done up in heavy black mascara that makes the brown color pop. Her dress is a simple a-line and the deep purple compliments her fair skin. She glances at Lorenzo across the room before focusing on Bianca at the island. She seems vaguely familiar, though I can’t really place it.

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