FOUR
LEIGHTON
With the bedroom door closed and locked behind us, I relaxed. I wasn’t scared of Kiara. Not… really. But it was obvious she was upset by our guest derailing her plans, and I didn’t know what she was going to do with that anger.
It could be anything or nothing. She could pettily rip pillows to shreds or come at me with a kitchen knife the next time I walked into my living room. I just didn’t know.
“Why is she still in your condo?” Ambrose asked.
He shed his coat and shoes and made himself comfortable on my bed. I tried to swallow past my arousal. This was dangerous. We’d only ever fucked at The Pointe Lounge, the BDSM and sex club where Ambrose worked. There, neither of our scents were prominent. To have him here, in my space, was a temptation I’d always known I would have trouble resisting.
“Extenuating circumstances.”
He patted his thick thighs, wanting me to come sit on his lap. I hesitated. The level of submission I gave Ambrose was exclusive to sex only. I wouldn’t have him telling me what to do in my life.
Instead of on his thighs, I sat beside him on the bed.
“Tell me what they are.”
“I can’t,” I said.
His hand trailed across the duvet to land on my thigh and I stiffened. “You know I would rather burn alive than reveal your secrets to anyone.”
My gaze slid to the scars. He didn’t talk about them much, but everyone knew what happened. House fire in Citrine Hills. He’d been in college, home with his parents on summer break. The scars were from the flames, but rumour had it he’d had more than burn scars. Some had been from knives.
I’d never asked him.
It was one of those things that would make us far too close and personal.
Saying he would rather burn alive than sell me out was probably the most serious promise he could give me. He’d come so close to that being his reality, and the incident left far more than just the physical scars.
“Give me your phone.”
He did in an instant, and I tossed both of ours into a signal blocking box I kept in my nightstand. When it was secure, I sighed. “We better hope Liberty did a good job of scanning this place for spyware, because if Soren finds out I’m telling you about this, it won’t be pretty.”
Ambrose lifted an eyebrow. “Soren Rosania?”
“How many Sorens do you know who would have resources to bug my house?”
“Point taken. Go on.”
“I work for him. Not just on a temporary basis when he needs something covered up. I’m in his fucking pocket, and I can’t escape it.”
Ambrose clenched his jaw, the scarred muscles in his face twitching rapidly as they sometimes did when he was agitated.
“You can’t help me,” I said before he could offer. “Soren knows some family secrets that go way beyond me, so I won’t risk pissing him off. I don’t know how Kiara found him, or who the fuck she really is, but he sent her to me. I called him to tell him I wouldn’t be dark bonding her, and he told me to keep her safe and close. So here we are. There’s an omega in my house who is desperate for a dark bond, and whether I bond her or not she’s valuable to an unhinged billionaire.”
His thick fingers stroked my thigh. I would never admit out loud how much his touch soothed me.
“I can do some digging. Dash could—”
I shook my head. “Don’t tell Dash about any of this. I’ll dig on my own.”
“He needs a task anyway.”
“And you think giving him a task that relates to me is a good idea?” I asked.
Dash was the lead of Ambrose’s pack. He took it the hardest when my brother rejected them. I couldn’t tell you what was going through his head, but he became more of an asshole every year. More erratic, too. Some of the tabloid articles on him read like they should be fake, but they weren’t.
