Page 29 of Omega's Formula

No. Absolutely not.

I force myself to take a breath, then immediately regret it because that just pulls more of his scent into my lungs. He’s behind the counter, wearing a green apron, taking an order from an elderly woman. He’s smiling at her—a real smile, warm and genuine—and something twists in my gut.

He’s never smiled at me like that.

Then he looks up, and our eyes meet across the room.

His pupils blow wide. His hands still on the register. I watch his chest rise and fall faster, see the flush creep up his neck. Hefeels it too. The pull. The chemistry that neither of us asked for and neither of us can escape.

“Hazel,” he says, not looking away from me. “Cover me for a minute?”

The older woman at the register nods, giving me a curious look as Nolan comes around the counter. He stops a few feet away, close enough that his scent intensifies but far enough that we’re not quite touching.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is rough.

“We need to talk.” I keep my own voice steady with effort. “Sun called me. Since you apparently can’t be bothered to return his messages.”

Something flickers across Nolan’s face. Guilt, maybe. Or shame. “I forgot.”

“You forgot to return calls from the Bureau about our legally mandated marriage?”

“I forgot, all right?” He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. “Ellie had a seizure. The hospital called, and I... everything else just went out of my head.”

His sister. The whole reason he registered in the first place—the whole reason we’re in this mess.

“Is she okay?”

He blinks, clearly surprised by the question. “Yeah. It was a side effect of the new treatment, they said. She’s fine now. But at the time...” He trails off, shaking his head. “I was scared, all right? I wasn’t thinking about any of this.”

For a moment, I see someone who’s exhausted and scared and trying his best.

Then I remember who I’m dealing with, and the sympathy hardens back into suspicion. This is what con men do. They make you feel sorry for them. They make you drop your guard.

“Sun’s threatening to release a press statement,” I say flatly. “Announcing our prime match publicly. Unless we demonstrate actual cohabitation.”

Nolan’s face goes pale. “He can’t do that.”

“He can, and he will. Unless we start living together. Actually living together, not just maintaining the fiction.”

“I’m not—” He stops, jaw clenching. “I’m not leaving the apartment. It’s close to the hospital. Ellie needs me nearby.”

“I’m not asking you to leave.” The words come out before I’ve fully thought them through. “I’ll move in with you.”

Silence stretches between us. Nolan stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“You’ll move in with me,” he repeats slowly.

“Does it bother you?” The question comes out sharper than I intended.

Nolan’s laugh is short and bitter. “Bother me? I can’t sleep without...” He stops abruptly, color rising in his cheeks.

Without what? Without thinking about me? Without wanting me?

The thought sends heat pooling low in my stomach, and I have to look away before I do something stupid.

“There’s only one bedroom,” Nolan says after a moment. “One bed.”

“I’ll take the couch.”