Page 17 of Knot for Sale

Then creepy cousin Cade pushed away from the table, heaving his well-fed bulk upright. “No need. I’ll get him.”

Alarm bells jangled inside my head. I needed to warn Em about how much of an interest her relatives seemed to be taking in her absence. I stood abruptly, stammering out an excuse.

“Ah, thanks so much for the meal. This has beenlovely, but I’m actually feeling a bit out of sorts as well—”

“Sitdown, Mr. Bardot,” Casick snapped.

He wasn’t an alpha, but my omega instincts had been trained too well as a child. It was the exact same bark that my father would have used to keep me from running off after dinner. I froze, hating my involuntary reaction. Next to me, I felt Gabriel Rosencranz go still.

Casick sat back in his chair, moderating his tone. “I’m afraid there are some contractual discussions still to be addressed. I would request that you and the other models not leave the table until we’ve gone over everything.”

I glanced to the side. Cade Huntwell was already walking away, heading for the grand staircase leading to the lower decks... and Em.

NINE

Gabriel

IT CERTAINLY HADN’T taken long for the hairline cracks in this operation to start showing. Beside me, the attractive male omega who smelled like springtime in my grandmother’s rose garden had frozen like a deer in the hunter’s sights, his green eyes wide and worried.

I was here for one reason, and one reason only. I didn’t need an omega-shaped distraction, and I sure ashelldidn’t need any kind of distraction that might blow my cover. The Huntwells didn’t know me—not by sight. Frankly, it was unlikely they’d recognize my real name, either. My family had simply been one of their many nameless, faceless victims.

Unfortunately, I’d always been weak for omegas in distress. Also, there was a small but nonzero chance that this missing model—Emma, she’d been called—was somehow tangled up with my reason for being here. Tommy Huntwell hadn’t exactly been subtle about his desire to have the organizer, Casick, check up on her, and that smarmy twat Cade had been far too eager to stick his nose in where it wasn’t needed.

“Now look here...” the omega—Elijah—began. Worry soured his damask rose scent, turning the notes of spring rain into a summer storm.

I stood, addressing Casick. “You must pardon me, but I need a word with this young man as well. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to return him afterward so he can sign your various contracts and NDAs.” I lifted a hand to hover behind the omega’s lower back without touching him, a wordless suggestion to shift his extremely well-formed arse. “Shall we?”

The omega blinked at me, and his eyes really were the mostextraordinarycolor, like a forest at sunrise. I supposed that sort of thing would be a distinct selling point within the modeling industry.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, Mr. Casick—I’ll be back in a bit.”

Casick’s hard eyes followed us as I ushered Elijah away, but one of many perks of being a recently minted billionaire was that people tended not to contradict you, especially in public.

Freed from his momentary paralysis, the omega hurried in the direction Cade Huntwell had gone. I followed, my long legs allowing me to make my stride look purposeful rather than rushed.

My nervous companion jogged down the first flight of stairs to the B-deck landing. There, he paused, turning to face me. His eyes didn’tquitemeet mine, but he’d clearly had practice subsuming his omega instincts.

“Thanks for that,” he said in his broad American accent. “Do you know where the medical, uh, infirmary thingie is on the ship?” He glanced around, but Cade Huntwell was already out of sight.

“No,” I said, “but it should be easy enough to find out. First, though, perhaps you’d care to tell me what the hell is going on.”

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