Page 172 of Knot So Lucky

Because that's what I need sometimes—not grand gestures or public declarations, but someone willing to hold the chaos at bay long enough for me to catch my breath.

I smile against his chest, feeling some of the tension drain from my shoulders.

"Hmm. Not sure if Bravati money can do that."

The words come out teasing, but there's genuine wonder underneath. Because Elias has the kind of resources andconnections that might actually make good on that promise in ways most people couldn't.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine.

"You shouldn't test me,Cara. I'm very good at making impossible things happen when properly motivated."

The Italian endearment catches me off guard, makes heat bloom in my chest that has nothing to do with the warm garage air.

I giggle, which is embarrassing in some odd sense, but I'm too tired to care about maintaining composure.

"Do you want to go on a date?" Elias asks suddenly, the question seeming to come from nowhere.

I blink, processing the non-sequitur while my exhausted brain tries to catch up.

"A date? Right now?" I frown slightly. "I have the press conference in like an hour. Can't really skip that without causing drama."

Elias pulls back just enough to look at me properly, his green eyes intense behind those round spectacles.

"Do youreallywant to go to the press conference?"

The question is asked with such deliberate emphasis that it cuts through my automatic responses and makes me actually consider.

Do I want to go?

Want to subject myself to another hour of invasive questions and thinly veiled discrimination and speculation about my heat cycle and pack dynamics?

"No," I admit quietly, feeling vulnerable with the confession. "But Ihaveto go. It's expected. Part of being a professional racer means dealing with media obligations."

"You don't have to go anywhere." Elias's voice carries an edge now—not aggressive, but commanding in a way that makesmy Omega instincts sit up and take notice. "It's aprivilegefor them to see you. Not a right. It's about time they learned that distinction."

The words hit differently than I expected, making something shift in my chest.

Because he's right.

I've been operating under the assumption that Iowethe media my time and attention, that dealing with their invasive questions is the price of admission to professional racing.

But male Alpha drivers don't operate that way.

"The male Alpha drivers barely show up to press conferences," Elias continues, apparently reading my thoughts. "They make the media wait. Cancel appearances when they don't feel like dealing with it. Show up late or leave early without consequence."

He shifts slightly, and Shadow meows in protest at the movement before settling again.

"If they want you to attend, they better start bringing proper questions. Respectful, professional questions about yourracing, before you'll make an appearance. Otherwise?" He shrugs. "Let them learn that your presence is earned, not assumed."

The Alpha dominance in his voice makes my body respond instinctively—arousal curling low in my belly, the urge to submit and let him handle the difficult decisions that I'm too tired to navigate alone.

This side of Elias doesn't emerge often.

Usually he's all gentle concern and thoughtful consideration, the soft-spoken tech genius who asks permission before every touch.

But right now, there's steel underneath the gentleness.

Authority that doesn't need to shout or posture because it's utterly confident in its own power.