CHAPTER 28: MY BABY GIRL

EMBER'S POV

Rafael raises one hand in a pleasant wave, completely unbothered by the murder in my security chief's eyes.

"Enjoy your spa day, Ember," Rafael says, stepping aside to let me exit. "And remember—Knox collects broken things because he thinks he can fix them. But I don't think you're as broken as he believes. I think you're something else entirely."

"And what's that?"

His smile widens. "Dangerous. In the best possible way."

The elevator doors close on his face, and Nathaniel is at my side immediately, practically vibrating with protective fury.

"Are you alright? Did he touch you? I'll kill him. I'll—"

"I'm fine," I cut him off, tucking Rafael's card into my dress pocket without examining it further. "He just wanted to introduce himself."

Nathaniel looks like he wants to argue, but he swallows it down with visible effort.

"I'm reporting this to Knox."

"Do what you need to do."

Part of me wonders what Knox will think when he hears another Alpha cornered me in an elevator. Part of me hopes it makes him jealous.

Part of me is disgusted with myself for wanting that—for wanting him to care, to fight for me, to show even a fraction of the possessiveness he displayed at 4 AM.

But mostly I just feel tired.

I follow Nathaniel into the spa, Rafael's card a small weight in my pocket, his words echoing in my head.

Knox collects broken things because he thinks he can fix them.

But I don't think you're as broken as he believes.

* * *

The spa smells like eucalyptus and cedar, warm and humid in a way that makes my skin feel less raw.

Soft music plays from hidden speakers, and the lighting is dimmed to that specific shade of blue that's supposed to be calming but just makes me feel like I'm underwater.

I'm about to check in at the reception desk when I hear my name.

"Ember!"

Queenie is rising from one of the waiting area chairs, her face lighting up when she sees me.

She's in a plush white robe, her dark hair piled on top of her head, looking like someone who actually belongs in places like this rather than someone cosplaying wealth like I am.

"I was hoping I'd run into you," she says, pulling me into a hug that I didn't realize I needed. "Nathaniel mentioned you had a spa appointment this morning. I thought we could do the couples massage together? Much better than lying there alone with your thoughts."

My thoughts are currently a disaster zone, so yes. Yes, company sounds perfect.

"I'd like that," I admit.

Queenie links her arm through mine and steers me toward the private treatment rooms, chattering about the amazing hot stone massage she had last time she was here.

Her warmth is so genuine, so uncomplicated, that I feel something in my chest loosen slightly.

We settle into adjacent massage tables in the couples room, and the moment the door closes and we're alone, Queenie's tone shifts.

"Okay," she says, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. "What's wrong? And don't say nothing, because you've got that look."

"What look?"

"The look of a woman who's been emotionally body-slammed and is pretending she's fine."

I laugh despite myself—a short, surprised sound.

"Is it that obvious?"

"To someone who's been there? Yes." Queenie lies back down as the masseuses enter, but I can still feel her attention on me. "We can talk when they step out for oils. But I'm not letting you leave this spa without telling me what's going on."

The massage begins, and I try to relax into it, but my mind keeps circling back to this morning.

To Knox's coldness. To Rafael's words. To the card in my dress pocket, currently folded with my clothes in the locker.

When the masseuses step out to warm more oils, Queenie immediately turns to face me.

"Spill."

So I do.

Not everything—not the graphic details of what happened at 4 AM against the window—but enough.

The intensity followed by the ice. The forehead kiss that felt more like a dismissal than affection. The three hours of being ignored while he took calls like I wasn't even in the room.

"And the worst part," I say, staring at the ceiling, "is that I know better. I know this is fake. He's told me repeatedly that it's fake. I'm the idiot who's developing feelings for someone who sees me as a business arrangement."

Queenie is quiet for a moment.

"Can I be honest with you?" she finally asks.

"Please."

"Nathaniel told me the same thing when we first got together. Men like them sometimes push others away because they believe they are protecting them. Nate was scared his job makes me a target for harm. We started off as just physical. He said that he didn't do the relationship thing even though we were mates. He told me that I shouldn't expect anything beyond what we'd agreed to."

I turn my head to look at her. "And?"

"And we've been mated for two years now. He proposed six months after telling me not to catch feelings." She smiles softly. "Sometimes men don't know what they want until they're terrified of losing it."

"Knox isn't terrified of losing me. Knox is terrified of wanting me at all."

"Same thing, different packaging."

The masseuses return before I can respond, and we lapse into silence. But Queenie's words sit with me, turning over and over in my mind.

Sometimes men don't know what they want until they're terrified of losing it.

Maybe.

Or maybe I'm just the latest in a long line of women who've convinced themselves that a man's bland disinterest is actually secret devotion in disguise.

After the massages, we move to facials, then manicures. By the time we're finished, I feel more human than I have all morning.

My skin is glowing, my nails are perfect, and I've almost convinced myself that everything with Knox is fine and I'm overreacting.

Then the receptionist approaches with an apologetic expression.

"Miss Aragon? There's a woman in the lobby asking for you. She's... quite insistent."

My stomach drops before she even finishes the sentence.

"Let me guess," I say flatly. "Designer clothes, designer attitude, demanding to speak to her daughter?"

The receptionist's wince tells me everything I need to know.

"She's threatening to make a scene if you don't come out. She says she wants a spa day with you. A mother-daughter bonding experience."

Queenie's hand finds mine under the manicure table.

"You don't have to see her."

But I do.

Because if I don't, Devika will make good on her threat to cause a scene, and that scene will become gossip, and that gossip will reflect badly on Knox, and somehow I'll have failed at the one thing I'm supposed to be doing here—making him look good.

"It's fine," I lie. "I'll handle it."

I stand, and Queenie stands with me.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her," she says firmly. "Nathaniel can wait outside, but I'm staying."

I don't argue. I don't have the energy.

Devika sweeps into the spa like she owns the place, dripping in designer everything that she definitely did not pay for herself.

Chanel bag. Louboutin heels. A silk blouse that screams luxury.

She's had work done since I last saw her—her face is tighter, her lips fuller, her expression carefully crafted into maternal warmth that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Darling!" She air-kisses both my cheeks without actually making contact. "I've been trying to reach you all day! When I heard you were at the spa, I just had to come see my baby girl."