Page 82 of Knot Your Business

His voice is cool. Not quite cold with hurt or anger, but the careful neutral used between strangers. Even on our first date, he never sounded like this. Regret slices through my chest, and an apology sits perched on my tongue.

But it’s not him I owe it to, is it? Not really. It’s Violet.

I shake my head. “Devo scusarmi, Tesoro.”

“You’re here to apologize?” Jasper asks slowly. He shoves his hands into his pockets, but it doesn’t hide their trembling. “During a large public event like it’s some third act moment in a romance book? Who are you and what have you done with Dominic?”

I shrug.

“Where is she?” Rylan asks.

“Bathroom. She left a couple minutes ago to see if she could figure out why she was feeling sick.”

I nod and start back across the roof. Jasper grabs me, his grip digging into my elbow.

“You cannot make a scene here,” he says, his voice biting.

The unspoken command is clear.

I force my feet to still as I focus on my lover.

“It’s not just her dad that’s here,” he whispers, leaning closer to me. “Her mom is a goddamn piece of work. Even worse than she was when we lived in Seattle. She’ll use every single thing we do against Violet if she thinks it’ll serve her best.”

Rylan frowns, his throat rippling with a swallow.

Jasper squeezes my elbow. “Tread carefully.”

I palm his face, running my thumb across his cheek. “All right, Tesoro. Starò attento.”

He nods and leads us across the space, letting his hand slide down my forearm before lacing his fingers with mine. Some of the weight in my chest lessens.

Rylan pulls the door open.

Honeysuckle slams into me so fast and completely that my knees buckle and a growl rips up my throat. I barely manage to bite it back, but the telltale haze starts settling over me.

“What the fuck?” Rylan whispers. He closes the door behind us, the glass muffling the noise of the event. “Why is she perfuming like she’s in heat?”

Jasper glances between us. “What?” His voice fills with dread. “How can you tell? It just smells like her out here.”

Rylan shakes his head. “There’s a… Fuck, I don’t know how to explain it.”

I start down the hallway, noticing the sign for the women’s restroom, the door standing open. Was that normal here?

“We need to find her,” I say, my voice low enough it rumbles through the space. “She’s not safe if she’s had a breakthrough heat.”

“We shouldn’t even be able to smell her,” Rylan mutters, shoulder brushing mine. “She would have worn scent blockers when she left the house. She doesn’t go anywhere without them.”

That weight settles heavier on my chest.

Jasper stands in front of the event’s entrance, his hands shoved in his pockets, worry etched on his face.

Rylan knocks on the threshold of the bathroom, leaning against the wall. “Violet?”

There’s nothing from inside. He glances at me, frowning. His hand is poised to knock again when I hear it: the soft rustling of fabric.

It’s not coming from the bathroom.

I turn, trying to figure out where it’s coming from when there’s a muffled cry from several feet down the hall.

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