Page 32 of Knot Your Business

She sighs and sets the mug down, relaxing into the seat. “It never is, really. People always see what they want.”

I take a longer pull of the drink, giving her time to decide if she wants to leave it at that.

After a moment, she continues.

“People see an Omega and think they’re pushovers. Or they envy the fact that most Omegas end up in packs where it looks like they’re doted on at every turn. And, sure, some packs are like that. But not all of them. Especially in the ultra-wealthy.”

There’s a long pause. I put the mug down and prop my chin on my hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she taps her fingers, her nails clinking against the ceramic of her mug.

“People see my last name and assume I can give them whatever they want,” she says. “Clout. Social media engagement. Some kind of in at my father’s company that doesn’t even exist. It’s fucking exhausting.”

She sighs. There’s no evidence of the girl that left Jasper in cold blood, of the girl that wrote that letter and let someone act as messenger instead of being brave enough to talk to him face-to-face. She seems… fragile, almost. And not in the way Omegas often are. She seems almost like she’s prepared for everything to fall apart, for everything to blow up in her face. Like everything happening around her is just a front that will be proven false at the first minor inconvenience. I recognize that look, the one that says you don’t trust the good that’s happening around you.

I lived it for almost a decade, after all. I’m well-acquainted with what that fear looks and feels like. And what causes it to exist in the first place.

“I’m sorry.”

I keep my voice gentle and soft, and she relaxes further into her chair.

“You don’t have to do that,” she mutters, her eyes dropping until they’re only half-open.

Shrugging, I take another sip of the coffee. “But you’re not upset that I did.”

The corner of her mouth tips up. “I guess I’m not. It’s… not very common for me.”

“Which part?” I ask.

Her look grows guarded. I think back over what I said and hold back a flinch. Shit, did she think I meant like… how often she hooks up with an Alpha? Because I definitely do not give a shit about her body count. I literally worked at the Haven for years to make ends meet.

“No insult meant,” I say when she doesn’t fill the silence between us. The café bustles with life around us, the speakers playing an indie piano track that sounds vaguely familiar. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the ones Mark plays when the silence in the studio is too loud for him to focus. “Just trying to figure out what you need.”

“What I need?” The question is skeptical.

“As an Omega. As a woman. As a partner.” I stand and adjust my chair, turning it so I can sit normally and still see her. The barista manning the counter frowns but doesn’t outright object to the move.

“Oh,” she whispers, tracing the rim of her mug, her eyebrows drawn low. “I thought…” She shakes her head. “All right.”

Curiosity and maybe something deeper has me wanting to pry her apart, make her tell me what she thought I meant when I asked what she needed. What other ways are there? I blow out a breath and take another drink of the coffee to keep from being a complete ass.

“Sorry that I’m really shit at this,” she says after another long minute of silence.

I glance up at her. She’s twisting her hair around her finger, her eyes on her own mug, her shoulders rolled in just a bit. None of the confident woman from the gala or all the photos littering her dorm room door. No, she looks like the unsure woman on the video chat yesterday.

“You’re doing fine,” I assure her, letting my voice go soft and calming again. Her eyelids flutter. “I suppose this is a good time to admit that I spent way too much time on your Instagram trying to figure out details about you because the little bit the Council gave was absolute shit.”

She laughs and scrunches her nose again. It’s definitely one of the cutest fucking things I’ve seen. It makes me want to kiss her. I spread my legs a bit wider and force myself to focus.

“I’ve spent the last day trying to figure out why you have one daith piercing but not both—so it’s probably not for migraines. And why you have a scar on your nose from where you probably let a piercing close.” I chug the last of the coffee and set the mug down beside my feet, keeping the table clear for her own use. “And don’t get me started on that damn dress that’s haunted my thoughts for the last two weeks.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and she twirls the mug in her hands.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I continue, “I’ve also been trying to figure out why your first time using the Haven was in the fall despite you having lived here the last four years. Part of me wants to just straight up ask you if you had a boyfriend and broke it off, and that’s why you ended up needing to use the facility. Is that completely tactless? Absolutely. But, fuck, the thought has haunted me. And why you work as an Ra and also at the Rowdy Seahorse when your dad is literally richer than God.”

“You actually looked up where I work?” she asks softly.

It’s almost like she’s surprised by my interest in her. The implication that no one really has been interested in her outside of her name or designation twists my stomach.

“Well, yeah,” I say, keeping the frustration out of my voice. “I wanted to know what drew you there, if it’s somewhere you can still easily work if you want to now that we’ve been matched.”

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