Page 23 of Knot for Sale

ELEVEN

Gabriel

WELL, THIS SITUATION just got more and more interesting. Tommy Huntwell hadn’t reacted overtly to Elijah Bardot’s approach, beyond appearing mildly irritated by the interruption. I’d been about to put the omega off, suggesting a meeting at a later time—but I’d barely started speaking when the other alpha’s gaze had narrowed, staring at something behind me.

Huntwell’s expression twisted into something that could only be described as feral, and that was enough to have me glancing over my shoulder, following the direction of his glare.

My glimpse of short, platinum-dyed hair and elfin features was fleeting as the woman who’d drawn Huntwell’s ire ducked behind a structural pillar and out of sight. My main impressions were ‘tall,’ ‘pale,’ and ‘terrified out of her mind.’

Tommy Huntwell’s voice drew my attention back to my immediate surroundings. His somewhat disturbing scent markers of cordite and fresh snow had sharpened noticeably—a predator honing in on prey.

“Cade,” he said, “you need to go and see Mr. Casick about the matter we discussed earlier.”

Cade gave him a lugubrious blink. “But we were talking business.”

“Now,” his father said, and Elijah flinched almost imperceptibly at the hint of an alpha bark in his tone.

“Fine,” Cade grumbled, heaving himself out of his chair.

He headed off in the direction of a larger group of people on the foredeck, moving away from the woman—the mysterious Emma Hope—lurking in the shadows behind me. I wasn’t at all certain Cade had even noticed she was there.

Not for the first time, I wondered how betas managed to survive, with as much of the world as they missed on a daily basis.

I would have given a lot to know whatmatterthe Huntwells had been discussing with Ted Casick—but whatever it was, it apparently involved Ms. Hope. This impression was strengthened by the silent S.O.S. flashing behind Elijah’s green eyes. It was an expression that very clearly saidhelp.

I hadn’t become a billionaire without learning when to pivot, and I did so now.

“On second thought, Mr. Bardot, it’s too nice an evening to spend talking about trade deals. Mr. Huntwell, as we have all week, perhaps we could discuss the potential synergy between our respective businesses at more length another time.”

Huntwell seemed more preoccupied with the figure in the shadows than the conversation I was abandoning. He’d successfully shuttered his earlier vengeful expression into something neutral, but his close-set gray eyes still focused over my shoulder rather than on my face.

“Yes,” he said absently. “Another time.”

“So, drinks?” Elijah asked, too fast and too bright.

“Lead the way,” I told him, rising. I didn’t offer to shake hands with Huntwell before departing. Some things were simply a bridge too far. Instead, I gave him a curt nod.

Elijah made a beeline for his companion’s less than stellar hiding place. He didn’t slow as he gathered her up, heading toward the bar.

“Gabriel Rosencranz, this is Emma Hope,” he introduced without stopping. “Emma, this is Gabriel. I don’t know about either of you, but I need a stiff drink.”

“G-god, yes,” Ms. Hope muttered, a slight stutter marring her BBC accent.

“Saying it’s a pleasure to meet you would probably be a bit facile... at least before I find out exactly what you’re getting me into,” I said.

“If you’re playing silly buggers with the Huntwells, it’s more about what I c-can get yououtof,” she shot back.

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