Page 135 of Knot Happening Again

No.

Amusing.

That's safer.

"Alright," I agree, surprising myself. "But no commentary from the peanut gallery."

Troy's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The dressing room is bigger than my old apartment's bathroom. I slip on the blouse, pairing it with a sleek black pencil skirt.

The woman in the mirror looks like a stranger.

Polished, confident.

Is this really me?

I step out, and Troy lets out a low whistle. "Damn, princess. You're gonna give these alphas heart attacks."

Leon's head snaps up, his eyes widening as they rake over me. He opens his mouth, closes it, then manages a strangled, "You look nice."

“Nice?” I arch an eyebrow, unable to resist teasing him a little. "Just nice?"

He looks away. “I mean, you look... stunning,” he mutters. “Beautiful. I?—”

"Alright, alright," Troy laughs, clapping Leon on the back. "Don't hurt yourself, big guy. Next outfit, Ophelia. Let's see what else we can do to short-circuit Leon's brain."

I retreat to the dressing room, a small smile playing on my lips. It's... fun, watching Leon squirm. I probably shouldn't enjoy it, but after years of feeling powerless, there's a certain thrill in knowing I affect him so strongly.

And something tells me Troy is doing it on purpose.

But I'm not complaining.

We leave the boutique with more bags than I can carry, Troy insisting on every outfit that made me smile. As we approach our next destination, my steps falter. I’d thought we might be stopping by, but I wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

"A lingerie store?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Troy's grin is positively wolfish. "Can't have a proper shopping spree without it, princess."

Okay, now I'm completely sure he's doing this to torture Leon.

I glance at Leon, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. "I can't exactly try these on there,” I protest weakly.

"No problem," Troy shrugs. "We'll get a few sizes of whatever catches your eye. You can try them on at home, model them for us."

The casualness with which he says it—like it's the most natural thing in the world for me to parade around in skimpy underwear for them—makes my head spin. This pack operates on a whole different level of wealth, of intimacy.

Inside the store, Troy is like a kid in a candy shop. He flits from rack to rack, holding up scraps of lace and silk for my inspection. Leon trails behind us, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Oh, this one's perfect," Troy exclaims, holding up a black corset adorned with blood-red roses. "Mace is gonna lose his mind. Pretty sure the pinup model on the calendar he used to have in his office was wearing a number just like this."

I blink, trying to reconcile the image of gruff, teddy-bear Mace with the idea of pinup girls. Actually, I can see it. I can't help but wonder if he took it down because of me.

I'm used to the kinds of alphas who will hire an escort even if they're happily mated, so the idea that these men don't even want tolookat other women is novel, to say the least. Even when I was desperate, I refused mated clients on principle, but I still never imagined there were alphas like this out there.

"What do you think of this one, Leon?" Troy asks suddenly, holding up a sheer babydoll nightie in a soft blue that matches my eyes.

Leon's head snaps up, his eyes widening as they land on the garment. He swallows hard, his voice rough when he finally speaks. “Very nice."

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