Page 39 of Taken In Trade
Except, Charlotte had some prior relationship with Magnum… At the very least, they knew each other a long time ago.
The regret I feel about disappearing on him is extreme, considering we only spent a few hours togetherwhile I was kidnapped.That doesn’t change the fact that I feel shitty about how everything went down.
Could he have reached out to Charlotte to make sure I’m okay? That’s probably a stretch, but I hate that I wasn’t here when she stopped by. If nothing else, maybe I could have asked her for his information or to get a message to him.
Magnum is hot. He came all the way back to Boston to check on me, and I can’t let myself think about that too much because it makes my heart ache. He must think I blew him off, or maybe he’s worried that I ended up with the horrible fiancé I told him about.
Moretti quirks an eyebrow, and it feels like he’s asking if I have any idea why they might have come over.
“That is random, but I’m good, which I’m sure you told them.” I smile, bobbing my head awkwardly.
Shit.
I’m smoother than this.
It’s not like he can read my mind to tell I’m thinking about another man. Not that he would care. He told me to have discretion with any romantic relationships. Those words alone prove that he wants this marriage to be in name only. I just can’t figure out what benefit there is to Moretti to keep up this charade.
“I assured them you were fine,” he says. “Now, should we move on to more sensitive matters?”
“Okay?”
“You’re an omega,” Moretti says, somehow managing to make his words sound sexual. “Omegas have heats every three months. When we spoke earlier today, you indicated you had no interest in taking suppressants. You’re clearly going to need relief?—”
“This sounds like a conversation for the married people.” Hawk shoves his chair back and stands. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy.”
“Sit down, Hawk,” Moretti growls.
At the same time, I say, “You don’t have to go.”
“This is best hashed out among yourselves.” Hawk glances between us, shaking his head. “I’m going to take a shower.” With that, he takes the time to push his chair in and bolts.
Damn.
He’s clearly done with our shit, and it’s only been a day.
“We might as well take this somewhere more comfortable.” Moretti stands and comes around to my chair, offering me a hand up. “Join me in my office, won’t you, wife?”
Chapter Thirteen
Vanessa
Moretti pours us both a drink. I spend a little too long studying the tattoos on his hand and fingers as he offers me my glass, and it keeps him in my orbit long enough for his stormy scent to flood the air. He backs away before I can do something stupid, but the urge to chuck myself at him is strong. Then I’d climb him and bury my nose in his throat.
Wow.
It’s going to take some time to get used to how strong my instincts are without the suppressants around to buffer.
He’s dressed more casually than I’ve seen him yet, in dark-wash, low-slung jeans and a Henley.
It’s such a simple outfit, but he always looks good. He’s not bulky, and somehow the material still shows off his lithe muscles.
Moretti takes a swig from his glass, places it on the bookshelf close to the door, and grabs a cigarette from the pack he must keep stored there. He holds the unlit cigarette between his teeth as he steps over and tosses open one of the French doors.
A gust of biting wind spills inside the room, and I shiver. They keep the house nice and toasty, so I took off my coat and leggings before dinner, and I’m regretting that choice.
My nerves are frazzled, and not knowing what he wants to discuss is only making my anxiety worse.
I take a sip from the tumbler he handed me. It’s strong, but it goes down smoother than I expected it to. I’m guessing that means it’s something expensive, though I wouldn’t know. I normally prefer white wine.
