Novelas y relatos de Polnareff

There was a pants suit that hugged my ass, a black shirt, a black fitting coat on top, and black Jimmy Choo stilettos that had an asymmetric grosgrain mesh fabricator bow. “ Looking good, Mrs. Trentino, “ Nikolai said from the door of the walk-in closet. I turned to face him and smiled. He had on a black suit and hair stayed free on his head. It was just how he liked it. I never really liked men slicking their hair back with too much gel. “ You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Trentino, “ I said. I put two pins on either side of my head to hold my straight hair in place. I saw Nikolai’s reflection on the mirror before he wrapped his arms around me.

I kind of liked having my brain in my head. Surprisingly enough, a dim yellow glow leaked from the kitchen into the passage. Rounding the corner, I halted. Gunnar sat at the kitchen island, crystal glass in hand with an amber liquid swirling inside. He had the glass pressed to his forehead, a pensive expression covering his face. The white button-down he wore was open, body taunting me with his expertly carved frame. He still had his dress slacks on — it didn't seem like he had done much since he returned home from the office.

“Mira helped with the seating…” “It’s undercooked,” Nolan cut in, pushing his venison slightly aside. His tone wasn’t harsh, but final. The elders chuckled politely. “A wolf’s palate is a difficult thing to please. And with an Alpha like Nolan, I wouldn’t have thought that it would be that easy to please him.” I set my fork down slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. “I will be sure to take note and tell the headmistress to be careful next time.” Nolan did not respond. Instead, he took a sip of his wine before turning to the elders as if I was some kind of ornament that was on the table, and at this point, he treated me like I was an ornament that he wanted nothing more than to get rid of.

A man with a deep Italian accent said coming up to the bar eyeing me up and down. He must've mistaken me for a dancer which is really fucking dumb because a dancer wouldn't be wasted at a bar with a simple spaghetti strap dress on. But of course, I was insanely drunk and I was bored waiting for that bastard Alessandro, so I agreed and took the man's hand, pushing him into a seat near where the dancers were pole dancing. I wasn't a good dancer, so let's hope I'm a sexy drunk dancer. I climbed on the man's lap straddling him which wasn't a good decision as I had no panties on but fuck it and started to grind on his bulge, he was definitely enjoying it.

Nikolai’s POV I slammed my bedroom door so hard that the frame shook in response. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. I pressed them flat against the wood, trying to steady myself, trying to understand what the hell had just happened. That omega. That insignificant omega—arrgh! I pushed away from the door and started pacing. Everything felt wrong and off and out of place. This was far from what I expected. That’s if I even expected anything.