A shiver rolls through me. I believe him with everything I am, and that terrifies me. But not as much as the thought of how much it will hurt when I leave again.
Because I will. This is all a temporary dream, and all dreams must end.
As if he senses my thoughts, Ezra shifts beside me, the warmth of his body retreating as he rolls away and sits up at the edge of the bed.
A switch flipped, a door closed, a curtain dropped.
The transformation happens so suddenly that it leaves me dizzy. His shoulders straighten, the languorous post-sex softness vanishing as muscles tense beneath inked skin. Even his scent changes, his pheromones retreating to leave me colder than the loss of his flesh against mine.
The mattress rises as his weight leaves it, and the chill of the room rushes in to claim the space where his body kept me warm. It leaves me exposed, and the sheets twisted around my legs offer no protection from the emptiness he left behind.
Ezra stretches, his body a perfect study in controlled power, muscles flexing beneath the artwork that maps his skin. He doesn’t look back at me as he straightens, as casual and cold-blooded as if the last hour hadn’t happened.
“Get up.” He strides toward the closet. “It’s time to work.”
And just like that, four simple words collapse the illusions built over the night.
I stare up at the ornate ceiling, tracking hairline cracks in the plaster while the sheets cool around me. A hollow space opens beneath my ribs, not quite pain but its close neighbor. I should have known better than to let myself feel anything.
No, Ididknow better. And that’s the worst part.
8
Ilean close to the mirror, my hand moving with practiced precision across my face, contouring shadows beneath knife blade cheekbones I didn’t possess an hour ago.
The brush strokes age me five years in minutes, adding subtle crows’ feet and a hollowness to my cheeks that speaks of European aristocracy and too many late nights in exclusive clubs.
I stare at the familiar stranger emerging in the mirror, not Ren, nor Knox, nor Nico. No, this is Lorenzo Vescari, a mysterious art collector with a reputation for deep pockets and a keen eye for the unique.
“Stop staring,” I murmur as Milo, an Omega who Ezra introduced as his cousin-in-law, leans in closer.
“It’s magic.” Milo tilts his head, his bright red hair falling across his forehead as he ignores my warning and leans in close. “You’ve got the cheekbones of a Greek sculpture, and I’d kill for your bone structure.”
I move the brush away from my face to sigh. “That’s the makeup, and if you don’t stop distracting me, I’ll end up looking like a constipated banker instead of Italian nobility.”
One of the many entertainment rooms at Rockford Manor has been transformed into an impromptu styling station, with makeup cases and clothing racks cluttering the space. An hour after Ezra left me alone in his suite, Milo had appeared at the door, announcing he was there to take me to wardrobe.
He studies me critically. “The eyes need more.”
“Because they’re not done.” I return my attention to the mirror, meeting Lorenzo’s pale gray gaze.
Unlike my Nico persona, Lorenzo is flamboyant and meant to stand out in a room. I add black liner in a cat eye, then dab a bit of sparkle to my inner crease, because Lorenzo always sparkles.
Once again, my hair is tucked under a wig, this one black with a sprinkling of silver at the temples. I don’t know how the Rockfords got such a realistic piece on such short notice. It’s better than the one I have back at my loft, and I suspect it’s made with real hair.
Milo paws through the jewelry, holding earrings up to his lobes and turning his head to see how they look. “Maybe I should pierce my ears.”
“It would suit you.” I use the end of a stick to tease a few strands of hair down into an artful curl.
He rolls the large diamond studs between his fingers. “How do these work?”
“They’re magnetic.” I lean back from the mirror to check my appearance and am satisfied with my transformation.
But I’m not done yet.
Spinning on the chair, I take the earrings from Milo and pull off the back of the magnet, then fit them to my lobes and snap them into place. They sting a little, pulling at my ears, and I tilt my head from side to side to re-familiarize myself with the new weight.
Milo pulls out a pair of topaz drops that catch the light and attaches them to his ears before admiring himself in the mirror.
