Page 58 of Knot the One They Want

Before we can continue the discussion, Cole bursts through the front door, his face grim. "I passed a flashy car on the wayin," he announces, his voice tense. "Damien's investor is going to be here any second."

Damien straightens his tie, his expression hardening. "There's no point in arguing any further. It's too late to cancel anything now." He turns and stalks off, probably to check on dinner preparations. But I know he never had any intention of canceling in the first place.

I'm seething, my entire body trembling with barely contained fury. Asher places a hand on my shoulder, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you good?" he asks quietly, his tone gentle.

A harsh laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. "I'm fine. But I can't promise I won't put a steak knife through Damien at dinner."

Asher chuckles. "Which of us can?"

Cole, Asher, and I are still discussing what to do about Evie when the doorbell rings. Before we can decide who should answer it, Evie descends the stairs. For a moment, I second guess whether she's really not feeling well. She looks perfectly put together and cheerful as usual in a vibrant yellow dress with a pretty floral print that hugs her luscious curves in all the right places. She's been wearing her long, golden hair down lately, and it suits her. It's hard not to think about running my fingers through the soft tresses.

"Are you going to get that?" she asks, gesturing to the door, her voice light and airy.

Asher hastily opens it, welcoming Damien's guest inside. The relatively young alpha is a typical finance type, with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit. I immediately find him distasteful, my instincts warning me that he's not to be trusted.

But Evie is as charming as ever, immediately putting him at ease as she welcomes him into our home, playing the perfect hostess. She smiles warmly, extending her hand to him. "You must be Mr. Sinclair. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The investor takes her hand, holding it for a moment too long as he rakes his eyes over her appreciatively. "The pleasure is all mine," he says, his voice dripping with false charm. "Damien didn't mention his pack had an omega, let alone such a beautiful one."

Damien arrives back in the living room just as the investor makes his comment. His expression remains impassive as he replies dryly, "I guess it slipped my mind."

I clench my jaw, anger simmering in my veins. I can't believe how dismissive Damien is being, acting like Evie's presence is of no importance. It's clear he doesn't care about her well-being at all.

As we make our way to the dining room, I can't shake the feeling that this dinner is going to be a disaster. I just hope it goes by quickly, for all our sakes. But especially for Evie's. I can see the strain on her face, the way she's trying to keep up appearances despite not feeling well.

I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms, to shield her from Damien's callousness and the investor's leering gaze. But I know I can't, not without causing a scene. So I settle for staying close to her, ready to intervene if necessary.

As we take our seats at the table, I catch Asher's eye. He gives me a subtle nod, a silent promise that he'll help keep an eye on Evie too. It's a small comfort, knowing I'm not alone in my concern for her.

But as the first course is served and the investor monopolizes the conversation, I can't shake the feeling of dread that settles in the pit of my stomach.

This is going to be a long, tense night.

And I can only hope that Evie has the strength to get through it, even as I silently vow to do everything in my power to protect her.

CHAPTER 29

EVIE

God, does this manevershut up about his stock portfolio?

It's taking every ounce of willpower not to let my eyes visibly glaze over as dinner passes in the most mindnumbingly boring small talk I've ever suffered through. And that's including an instructor at finishing school who loved going off on tangents about her moonlighting gig as a golf caddy.

I sneak a glance at my watch under the table. How has it only been twenty minutes? This dinner feels endless already.

I force another bright smile as Mr. Sinclair pauses for breath, nodding along like I'm just fascinated by the riveting tale of his latest hedge fund ventures. "Wow, that's amazing," I gush, batting my lashes. "You must be incredibly savvy to navigate the market like that."

He puffs up at the praise, chest practically swelling with alpha pride. I have to bite my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes. They're all so predictable. Just stroke their egos and they'll eat out of your hand.

But as he launches into yet another long-winded explanation, I feel my smile becoming more strained, the exhaustion I've been fighting threatening to show through my carefully crafted mask. I'm just so tired. It's getting harder and harder to be thesparkly, vivacious Evie that everyone expects. Especially with the way Damien's gaze keeps flickering to me all throughout the evening, cold and assessing, like he's just waiting for me to slip up.

I can't, though. I can't give him the satisfaction of being right about me, of thinking I'm not cut out for this role. I straighten in my chair, willing energy into my voice as I chime in with another inane comment. The investor chuckles, clearly charmed, and some of the tension leaves Damien's shoulders.

Good. Crisis averted for now.

I just need to get through this dinner, keep the conversation flowing so Damien can work his business magic. Prove to him, and myself, that I can do this.

But as the minutes tick by, my head starts to feel fuzzy, my limbs heavy with fatigue. When was the last time I ate an actual meal or got more than a couple hours of sleep? The dining room suddenly feels stifling, the alpha's booming voice grating against my nerves that are stretched taut to snapping.

---