“Yes. After all, isn’t this the life that we live? An eye for an eye? And we let the cycle of violence continue?” I note plainly. He snorts back a chuckle. “Is she okay?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Yeah, she’s okay. She forgives you, by the way.”
I sigh. “I didn’t ask.”
“Doesn’t matter because that’s just the kind of person she is.” He smiles at me.
“Did you travel all the way here just to tell me your sister is a better person than me? Because if that’s the case, I forgive you too for attempting to kidnap me, for hurting me, and for trying to kill me.” I sneer.
He laughs heartily at that. I get a whiff of his sweet scent and I remember my grandmother’s words about the distinct scent of an Alpha. “No,” he starts, “I didn’t come here to argue. I wanted to see how you were doing, actually.” His hazel eyes travel up and down my torso.
“You mean, you needed to see if I was still alive?” I ask coyly. He ignores that question.
“I really did want to ask you something, though,” he announces and I inhale sharply.
“What is it?”
“The thing you said last night, about you wanting to atone for your sins—I mean your family’s sins,” he corrects himself quickly, “did you mean it?” I pause for a bit, remembering what I said to Eliza last night, how I’m committing myself to making things right this time.
I guess it’s safe to say that befriending Gregory is the next best move.
But before I can tell him my answer, Gregory stands and suddenly pulls at my hand, ushering me behind the counter. It is then that I get a whiff of another person walking into the store, someone who smells like sandalwood and musk, someone like us. Gregory looks at me and mouths the word “hide.” I scan my surroundings for any place we can use.
“Here,” I whisper and pull him inside the small closet space. We cramp our bodies inside where there’s barely enough room for Gregory’s height so he lowers his head a lot closer to mine. Aside from this room being a storage facility for employees’ things during their shift, this is also the place where we use to store cleaning supplies and other materials. I pull my mask down. “Hopefully the smell of bleach and soap can mask both our scents,” I tell him.
Gregory attempts to get comfortable, knocking a large container of bleach out of balance. In a panic, I kick it back but lose my footing and almost flip. Gregory catches me by the thigh, slotting himself in between my legs in the process. “He’s close,” he whispers above me. I listen closely for any movement outside and hear heavy footsteps walking inside the café.
Rie and Nina must be by the furnaces behind the kitchen,I think to myself.
I feel my breathing start to get heavy, both from the anxiety of getting caught and from the very compromising position I’m forced in. Gregory stares at me, his hazel eyes dark and brooding. He leans an arm at the wall behind me to gain some sort of balance, and I lock my other leg behind his for support. His scent is sending my mind into a frenzy and I fight the urge to inhale deeply.
“Isabela,” he breathes out, almost needy.
“What?” I tilt my head, looking at him directly.
“Last night, did you mean what you offered?” I nod.
“Yes. I was serious.” I lean in closer, giving in to temptation. “I still am, Gregory.” I let my lips almost touch his.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you both doing?” Nina gasps.
“Oh my God,” Rie chimes in behind her. “This is what you had in mind when you said you wanted to talk to my friend?” She giggles, pulling me out of the closet; multiple bottles of dishwashing liquid tumble to the floor.
“No! It’s not like that, I—uh,” I stammer and look at Gregory for support. “We got stuck,” I offer weakly. Gregory fights back a laugh.
“Sorry about that,” he responds after a moment. “I just can’t seem to keep my hands off my girlfriend.”
What?
“What?!” Nina and Rie repeat the question I have in mind.
“Come on, babe. You can tell your friends,” he urges, winking at me. I look back at my friends’ inquisitive stares.
It’s not like I can tell them the truth. And there’s no other logical explanation for why we were in the closet. Good job, Isabela. You’ve successfully dug yourself into a deeper hole. I internally cringe and prepare myself for what I have to say next.
“He’s not my boyfriend. I—” I force myself not to give out other details.There’s no going back after this. “I mean, we’re… not exclusive. He’s just someone my family wants me to, uh, check out.” I lower my head almost automatically, not wanting to give Gregory the satisfaction of seeing my embarrassed face.