Page 59 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

As Joey moved away to make calls, I took a slow survey of the penthouse. The changes were coming together better than I’d imagined. The new dark wood shelves were already being installed in the library, where Tommy liked to disappear for hours with a book and a whiskey. The entertainment system Kit picked out for Marco sat center-stage in the living area—a massive screen and surround sound setup that would put most private theaters to shame. Down the hall, the gym gleamed with top-of-the-line machines, perfect for Gio to burn off his Alpha energy and stay sharp for his next fight. In the far corner, my office was nearly finished—sleek, modern, the walls soon to be soundproofed for privacy.

And of course, the heart of it all; the kitchen, slowly taking shape around us. Professional-grade appliances, double ovens, a six-burner stove—everything Kit needed to bake the treats she loved spoiling us with.

But it was more than just the physical spaces. It was how naturally Kit moved between them, checking on each area with equal investment, ensuring everything reflected not just her tastes but ours. She wasn’t decorating as a guest, but as an equal partner in our lives. As amate.

I wrapped an arm around Kit’s waist, pulling her against my front. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She leaned into me, hands braced on my chest, tilting her head up with a smile that settled some of the agitation I’d been battling all damn day. “I just want it to be perfect for all of us.”

“Trust me, Kitten,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It already is.”

twenty-four

MARCO

The renovations had transformedour home into a demolition zone from hell. Every inch of the penthouse was covered in dust, the air thick with the scent of fresh paint and varnish. New floors were going in today and the constant pounding of hammers and whirring of power tools set my teeth on edge, but that wasn’t what bothered me most.

It was Kit.

My Angel tried to hide it, but I caught every wince, every subtle flinch when a particularly loud crash echoed through the space. The closer her heat drew, the more sensitive she became to everything—the noise, the people tramping through her haven, the disruption to her nesting instincts. Beneath the lotion she used to hide her signature, her scent had begun to shift subtly, taking on that sweet, honeyed quality that made my mouth water and my inner Alpha pace restlessly.

“C’mon, Angel,” I said, gently tugging on her wrist. “Let’s get some fresh air before you combust.”

She looked up at me with those pretty eyes, relief washing over her features. “Please.”

I tapped Enzo to join us for protection, but wasn’t sure who else to bring. With Lonnie, Nick, and some of our enforcers gone, our security detail had shifted, leaving me with fewer familiar faces I trusted with my Omega. Enzo brought along a guy named Niles—someone both he and Gio vouched for but who I didn’t know well enough to feel comfortable with. Still, numbers meant safety, and Kit’s well being trumped my personal preferences.

The four of us took Beretta for a walk, letting the cool morning air clear the lingering tension. The city bustled around us, people rushing to work, cars honking in the distance. Kit had bundled up in a cozy sweater that swallowed her small frame, making her look even more delicate than usual. Under the sunshine, I watched her shoulders gradually relax, her steps becoming lighter.

“Where are we going?” Kit asked, slipping her hand into mine.

I squeezed her fingers. “It’s a surprise.”

We stopped at a small café tucked between two larger buildings. The place looked like it had been plucked straight from a side street in Paris, with its wrought-iron tables and striped awning. The second Kit spotted it, she bounced excitedly on her toes, her eyes lighting up.

“I’ve wanted to try this place for ages,” she whispered, giving Beretta a scratch behind his ears before handing his leash to Niles.

“Stay sharp,” I told him, not bothering to soften my tone. “We won’t be long.”

Niles nodded, positioning himself where he could see both the street and the café windows. Enzo, Kit, and I headed inside,the bell above the door announcing our arrival with a cheerful jingle.

The moment we stepped in, Kit moaned at the heavenly smell of fresh pastries and coffee. The sound was innocent enough, but it shot straight to my groin.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected, either. My hackles rose, and Enzo coughed, covering his reaction quickly enough. But I caught the way his nostrils flared, taking in the faint traces of her scent—detectable now, even beneath that specialized scent-cancelling lotion she wore. Her heat was that close.

I hadn’t wanted to believe Tommy when he came to me with his suspicions about Enzo’s feelings for our Omega. But now, watching him watch her, it was hard to miss the signs—the way he paid attention to her every movement, how he seemed torn between leaning closer and forcing himself to maintain distance.

And I didn’t know how I felt about it. Enzo was like family, a pseudo-brother who’d been by our side for years. But he wasn’t pack, and he never would be. Our unit was complete—me, my brothers, and Kit. I felt that truth in my bones, in my soul.

“Why don’t you snag that table?” I told Enzo, pointing to a corner spot with clear sightlines of both exits. “Kit and I will grab our drinks and pastries.”

Enzo nodded and moved to secure the table while I led Kit to the counter. Her eyes widened at the various choices displayed in the case, and her fingers hovered indecisively over each one on the outside of the glass. She marveled over the chocolate ganache of the eclairs, the perfectly piped Chantilly cream, the toasted meringue on the lemon bars, and the dusted lavender sugar crystals on the edges of the blueberry galette. Her tongue poked out between her lips as she studied the options, a habit I found endearingly cute.

“I want to try that one... and maybe that one,” she murmured, pointing to a chocolate-filled croissant and some kind of elaborate looking fruit tart.

I ordered every pastry she’d lingered over—twelve in total—plus three lattes.

“Marco!” Kit’s cheeks flushed. “We can’t eat all that.”

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