Page 5 of Knot Just A Fan

“I do love shooting music gigs. But I’ve only just started that hobby.”

“Do you like music, Ms. Phillips?” he asked.

I held my breath for a moment, as I noticed a dark line tattoo on his right wrist. The sleeves of his button-down shirt were rolled up to his forearms, and the corded muscle there set off a flush up my chest.

Music. At least this was something I could talk about for hours. “Oh my God, yes. I can’t live without it. Jazz. Rock. Downtempo. Classical. Film scores. Video game music. Experimental. Pop. Folk. Dance. Anything that grabs me emotionally.” I shrugged. “It’s hard to tell until I hear it.”

Grayson leaned forward with his arms resting on his knees, hands clasped.

“What if I said to you I have a band that needs a reliable photographer to capture them at whatever gigs you could make? Mostly British gigs, but possibly a few European dates in the mix. They’re indie, not well known, but getting ready to record a second album, and they have a small but pretty rabid fanbase. So, that’s to say, your work wouldn’t go unappreciated.”

“I—I, I mean, I really don’t have experience shooting many live gigs. The band would have to be okay with my learning as I went. And I’d need to meet them before the first gig, just to discuss the vibe they want. The marketing and PR they already have done. What level of intimacy they prefer in the shots, all that kind of thing.”

Grayson nodded as I spoke, looking at his hands.

“Well, you’ve already met their lead singer. And he’d be thrilled to have someone with such a stunning eye for detail on board.” As he said this, he wasn’t gazing at me with bedroom eyes, or licking his lips, or sizing me up and down. He was examining my portfolio, glasses on, squinting slightly as if his prescription wasn’t up to scratch.

And it was the sexiest thing he could’ve done.

I inhaled so slowly, so softly, that I wasn’t sure any air actually circulated into my lungs.

My new mentor was the lead singer of a band, and the most magnetic force I’d ever encountered in my twenty-three years.

This was all new. I’d never felt this way so suddenly. I’d had one- or two-night stands with friends, with guys I’d met in the city, and I’d had two serious relationships with Betas who were happy to score an Omega who wasn’t matched and didn’t seem desperate to.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want my own pack. But I’d been on heat suppressant medication since I’d turned sixteen, and I was happy to focus on my career until I’d met someone worth going off them for. Worth discovering a connection with before even considering whether we were a scent-match.

And that was what had set me aside from most of my peers—me and Cami, anyhow. She’d decided she would stay on suppressants for life ages ago, and last year had gotten that incredibly pricy implant that only needs changing every ten years.

But me—I didn’t want to scent-match with whoever came along that locked into my scent. I didn’t want to just be an Omega loved for how she smelled to a pack of Alphas. That’s how it goes, so often, but that held no appeal.

I wanted to love, and to be loved, for theconnectionbetween us. Not just the physical, but the emotional. I didn’t want to experience my second-ever heat until I knew it was with someone who loved me for me, first and foremost.

Romantic trash, some called this. I kept it mostly to myself. My mother had wanted this too, and she’d almost had it. And then she’d died, alone, unmatched, and never had a chance to find out if she’d been right.

That wouldn’t be me. I would find out. I would fall in love first. And then hope for the best.

I stood and Grayson mirrored me. I said with a force-of-God smile I couldn’t hold back, my heart pulsing in my gaze, “Mr. Cove, I’d be thrilled to accept.”

He held out his hand, and as it encompassed mine, a searing wave like lava rolled into me, crashing against my skin and into every pore.

“Call me Gray, Ms. Phillips,” he said softly.

“As long as you call me Brie.”

No one called me that. I was Briella to everyone who knew me, Gabriella to those who didn’t.

Only Mum had called me Brie.

One day you’ll meet your match, my baby Brie. And you’ll know I sent him.

I blinked, hand still clutched in his, and then he let go and ran a hand over his stubbled chin.

“Beautiful name, Brie. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine. I’ll bring the band, and we can discuss what’s needed. And I’ll let you in on a secret. I won’t be mentoring you through the Guild for long.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I haven’t given notice yet,” he gave a sly smile and held a finger to his lips. “But our band’s taking off, and I can’t do both jobs much longer. I suspect another mentor will take over and line up other bands and gigs as well for you. But all you need to know is if you want it, you’ll have a job with us as long as you’re available.”

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