Page 31 of Knot for Sale

It was definitely a bad sign when the prospect of being destitute and homeless within the next couple of months barely even rated a mention. Right now, I was more worried about getting through the next week with my skin intact.

Fortunately, despite my throbbing head and fuzzy, foul-tasting mouth, my brain immediately supplied me with the basics of where I was and who I was with. I was in an alpha’s cabin. His rich pheromones permeated the space—right down to the bedding I was lying on. Elijah was somewhere close, his sweet floral scent weaving together with the heavier notes of alpha musk.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, my roommate poked his head around the fancy room divider. “You’re awake. That’s good. Splash some water on your face and come out to the private deck. The door’s just on the other side of that little office nook. There’s breakfast, and hopefully an update from His Highness, the Duke of Moneybags.”

“Um,” I said brilliantly, but he’d already disappeared.

In the absence of better options, I dragged myself out of the alpha’s bed and hauled my overnight bag into the alpha’s palatial bathroom. Some of Elijah’s toiletries shared space with a razor, a toothbrush, a comb, and some simple, unscented styling product.

I wondered what it was like not to require fifteen separate bottles and jars just to function in a professional setting.

Sour stress pheromones were still squeezing out of my pores in the absence of my suppressors, so I took the world’s fastest shower and pulled on a simple caftan dress before padding out to the small section of open-air seating walled off for use by this cabin’s guests. Calling it a deck was misleading; it was more like a little balcony recessed in the ship’s hull. It contained three deck chairs, a small table, and a spectacular ocean view, though.

The salt-tinged breeze was refreshing at this hour, even if it held the promise of heat and humidity to come. Elijah was sprawled in one chair, attacking a plate heaped with eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, and waffles. He swallowed an improbably large mouthful before greeting me with a “Morning, dove—help yourself,” before diving back in.

Gabriel Rosencranz rose from the second chair as I stepped onto the little balcony, offering me a sharp nod as he moved to uncover the selection of dishes on the table. I tried not to appreciate the way his rumpled shirt gaped open at the neck, or the way his rolled-up sleeves revealed sinewy forearms and a breadth of muscle that wasn’t terribly obvious beneath his well-tailored linen suits.

“Good morning, Ms. Hope,” he said, handing me an empty plate. “I hope you slept as well as could be expected, given the circumstances.”

I took it from him, noticing the lines etched deeper around his bloodshot eyes, hinting at a long night spent staring at a screen rather than sleeping.

“Better than you did, I suspect,” I told him. “And you should probably call me Emma, if you’re p-playing the role of my new sugar daddy.”

“As you like, Emma,” he said. “And of course, you may call me Gabriel.”

“Not Gabe?” I asked, attempting to distract myself from the way his voice sounded, wrapping around the syllables of my name.

His expression soured, though I thought I detected a hint of self-mockery there, too. “Preferably not.”

“Gabriel it is,” I said lightly, dragging my focus back to the long list of things I really didn’t want to think about. “Elijah said there was news?”

“Of a sort,” he said, reseating himself on a deck chair that had been adjusted into the most upright possible position.

I placed a piece of dry toast on my plate and wavered for a moment before adding a slice of bacon. Pouring a small glass of orange juice, I took my breakfast to the remaining chair and sank down on it, placing the juice next to me on the hardwood deck.

“Go on,” I prompted, taking a bite of toast.

“I have two trusted employees attempting to arrange a rendezvous at sea within the next few days,” he said. “Unfortunately, logistics are not in our favor, since they’re in London and my own yacht is in a different part of the Mediterranean.”

“A few days,” I repeated slowly.

“It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.” He didn’t look happy about it. “For what it’s worth, they’ll be bringing along heat blockers for you, and they’re well aware of the urgency of the situation.”

“It could still work out all right, Em,” Elijah said around a mouthful of waffle. “Especially if you’re a day or two late. You know how heats are.”

I did not, in fact, know how heats were. I’d made it my life’s worknotto know how heats were. Even so, I grabbed the lifeline being thrown to me.

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for that. And... after we get on your emergency lifeboat? What then?”

“We can drop both of you off in Athens,” Gabriel said. “You’ll need to wait around for a few days, but I assume your return tickets were part of whatever contract you signed to come out here in the first place.”

Elijah set his now-empty plate down. “Yeah, we checked last night that they hadn’t been cancelled or anything. We should be okay if we can find a cheap hotel near the airport.”

I wasn’t sure thatcheap hotels near the airportwere really a thing in Athens. I also wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do if I did manage to get back to New York safely. The first half of the payment for this gig from hell had bought me a little time, but after this disaster, I could guarantee there wasn’t going to be a second half. I was also going to find myself without an agency, once it became obvious that I’d bailed without even making a token attempt at getting a contract withThe Secret Boudoir.

This might be the final nail in the coffin for my modeling career. If Uncle Tommy knew I was in New York, maybe it was time to get on a bus to somewhere with a lot of cows and cornfields, where I could try to reinvent myself. There were probably places in middle America where I could live on a waitress’s salary until I figured out something better. I tried not to think about what it would feel like to say goodbye to Elijah, and Jessica, and all the other people I’d come to know since I’d moved to New York.

“Earth to Emma,” Elijah said, frowning. “Emma, please respond.”

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