Kiara let out the smallest whimper, her perfume heightening. I groaned and so did Dash, his hand going down to unashamedly readjust his pants.
“If she needed help in the shower, she’d be getting it from me. Her bondmate,” I snapped. “Don’t even think about putting your hands on my omega, Dash.”
His eyes narrowed, light green orbs darkening with mischief. I shouldn’t have said that. Banning him would only antagonize him. If I’d learned anything from years of following Dash’s antics on the tabloids, it was that as soon as he wasn’t allowed to do something… he wanted it more.
A lot more.
It wasn’t like I could sit back and watch him check out Kiara, though.
“Do you need help in the shower, dove?” I murmured, my hands resting on her hips.
She shook her head. “No. I think I’m fine.”
“Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll help wrap your feet in fresh bandages.”
Nodding, she hesitated for a beat, looking between the office where she’d been sleeping and my suite. She chose mine, scurrying off as a purr rumbled my chest.
I shouldnotwant her in my bed.
“Aren’t you two the cutest couple in the world,” Dash said in a sing-song voice.
The purr stuttered to a stop and I glared at him. “If you’re going to insist on being here, enjoy sleeping on the couch,” I said, gesturing to the leather.
It wasn’t comfortable and wasn’t meant to be, but I didn’t want him on the pullout couch in the office. Kiara’s scent was all over it and I couldn’t scrub it off like I could with the leather. Her scent was already permeating my condo from everything she’d scent marked last night, and I wouldn’t have him sleeping in a bed of it.
She was mine.
Not his.
“Such a gracious host. Shall I order us some food? It is that weird time between lunch and dinner, but I’m starved.”
My stomach rumbled at the most inconvenient moment. “Whatever. Order the food. I have to go make some work calls.”
I’d left right in the middle of my day, leaving any clients with urgent issues floundering. Then again, I wasn’t often in my office anyway. They knew to call me.
And lo and behold, I had a series of missed calls from a series of clients and then one that stuck out like a sore thumb.
Mother.
What the fuck did she want?
I went into my office and closed the door, sucking in a deep breath of coconut and chocolate to calm myself down. Then I dialled her number, preferring to manage the more herculean task first.
“This is Edith Winston.”
She always answered like she didn’t have call display.
“Mother. You called?”
She heaved a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the line. “I expect you to answer your phone during work hours, Leighton.”
I grit my teeth. “Something came up. My apologies.”
“Ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
The woman spoke like she was my boss, but she wasn’t. I was an independent corporate fixer—public relations specialist, on my business cards. She didn’t control my work hours or my clients, but she did control my life due to circumstances far beyond my reach.
“Understood.”
