Page 30 of Sugar Baby
Looking around and hoping to see a door for an en-suite, I spot it and stalk over, yanking the door open. It’s like the ones you find in a hotel with an extractor fan but no windows.
It was definitely built in at a much later date than the house was erected.
Stripping off my dress, I ball it up and lean through the doorway to chuck it on the bed. It’s my only item of clothing, and really, that is the worst possible outfit imaginable. Why couldn’t I have attended Wanda’s party in joggers and a hoodie? Taking the pearl necklace off, I place it on the counter.
Stepping into the shower, I turn the water on, letting the freezing blast of water hit me, making me squeal, but then it warms up, and I appreciate the lukewarm stream that falls down onto me.
I turn the shower off a few minutes later and grab a towel. I dry off and wrap it around me, only now finding the white terry cloth dressing gown on the back of the door. Replacing the towel on the rack to dry off. Picking up the necklace, I slip it back on before I grab the gown and head back into the bedroom to plot my next move after I call up for some food.
I scream and jump a mile when I’m confronted with an alpha standing in the middle of the room, looking like Billy-no-mates.
ChapterTwenty-One
Trent
Knowing I shouldn’t be in here, I feel like I’m intruding, but when I knocked, she didn’t answer, and I panicked, thinking her asthma had returned and she was in dire straits. It turns out she was in the shower, and then Icouldn’tleave.
Seeing her emerge from the steamy bathroom, her hair damp and dressed in a gown; I didn’t expect her to shriek at me.
Although, that sort of does make sense, seeing as I’m intruding into her space.
Forced space.
Despite how Enzo feels about his niece, she is still being held here so he can get what he wants from her mother.
“What are you doing in here?” she bellows, pulling the top of the gown closer.
“I did knock. When you didn’t answer, I thought you might be in trouble…you know…the asthma…” I trail off, staring into her remarkable green eyes. I don’t know what it is about this omega that has captured my attention, but I can’t stop thinking about her; I can’t stopstaringat her.
She purses her lips. “I’m fine. How did you get in anyway?”
I hold up the key that I pickpocketed from Enzo and hold my finger to my lips. “He doesn’t know I’m in here.”
Her gaze shoots to the door, and a mask of fear drops over her face. She backs up, ready to scream her head off; I can see it in her eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say hastily. “I wanted to talk to you. Ask you something.”
She closes her mouth but is no less wary. I’m not good with shit like this. I don’t chase women, omegas especially. I don’t want to form an emotional attachment to a creature who will possibly end up wanting to mate with me. It’s not an option for me. My work with the Taskforce takes me out of the country more often than not, tracking down wanted mafia members when and wherever they pop up. This job with Enzo is personal. I wanted the cameo that belonged to my mother. Mybirthmother. Enzo got it for me in exchange for passing on information about certain things that my job has access to.
“Well?” she spits out when I falter.
I want to ask her if she likes the house.Myhouse. I grew up here with my adopted parents, which they left for me when they downsized up North. I had a life that some would consider charmed, but staring into her gorgeous, forest green eyes now, I lose my nerve. It’s better to focus on the thing I actually came in here for.
“That purr,” I blurt out before I back out of here, never to return. “What was that?”
She blinks slowly, like a tired owl, as she takes in my question. “It was a purr,” she says deadpan. “You know, like omegas do.”
I want to chuckle and hold her close to me, but instead, I freeze momentarily, getting up the guts to pursue this conversation. Ineedto know what it was.
“Obviously,” I remark, putting on a front that she can probably see straight through. “What did it mean?” My voice croaks, and I clear my throat, adopting a vicious glare that usually makes hardened criminals weep like babies.
Not her, though.
She snorts in my face and flicks her wet hair over her shoulder before she turns to the dresser and marches over to it. She starts opening drawers, muttering about a hairbrush, which she doesn’t find and won’t because there is nothing in there.
“It meant nothing,” she says eventually, cutting me. She turns back and crosses her arms. She regards me closely, her eyes searching mine. I want to look away, but I’m fixated on the green depths that are dragging me in and under. “If that’s all, you can go now.”
It takes everything I have to stay where I am and respond to her harsh tone. “I don’t believe that.”
