<b>Chapter </b>71: A <b>Tangled Web</b><b>–</b><b>2 </b>
His smile faltered slightly. “Olivia, I just wanted to apologize for-”
I didn’t let him finish. With a swift movement, I mmed the door in his face, the <b>satisfying </b><b>thud </b><b>echoing </b>through my apartment.
Through the door, I heard him sigh. “I’ll leave this here for you,” he called, his voice muffled. “We <b>need </b><b>to </b>talk eventually, Olivia.”
I leaned against the door, listening to his retreating footsteps. Only when I was sure he was <b>gone </b><b>did </b>I allow myself to rx.
Sleep was impossible now. I nced at the clock–6:30 AM. With a resigned sigh, I <b>headed </b><b>to </b>the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.
As I showered, my thoughts drifted to Connor. Histe–night call had been brief but reassuring. Unlike <b>Ethan</b><b>, </b>Connor respected my boundaries, never pushing or manipting.
The contrast between the two men couldn’t be more stark.
I dressed quickly in a professional navy suit, gathering my files for the day’s work at Moow Legal Services. Noah’s case was progressing well, but there were still details to finalize before the hearing.
Just as I finished applying a light coat of lip gloss, another knock sounded at my door.
“For heaven’s sake,” I muttered, marching toward the door. If Ethan had returned, I wouldn’t be nearly <b>as </b>restrained this time.
(Connor’s POV)
I arrived at Moonlight Gardens early, instructing Marcus Shaw and the <b>security </b>detail to remain downstairs. After the night’s disturbing news, I needed to see Olivia, to confirm with my own eyes that she was safe.
I knocked on her door, waiting patiently. When there was no immediate response, I knocked again, more firmly this time.
Still nothing.
Concern began to gnaw at me. I pulled out my phone, about to call her when I heard movement inside the apartment.
The door suddenly flew open with such force that it banged against the wall.
(Olivia’s POV)
“I told you to-” The angry words died on my lips as I registered who stood before me.
Connor Rivers, tall and imposing in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his ice–blue eyes widening slightly at my vehement greeting.
<i>“</i><i>Oh</i>!” I gasped, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Connor! I thought you were-<b>” </b>
“Someone else?” he finished, his expression shifting from surprise to something harder. “<b>Ethar </b>perhaps<b>?</b><b>” </b>
My wolf, which had been bristling with irritation, immediately calmed at Connor’s familiar scent. <b>The </b><b>tension </b>
<b>Chapter </b>71. <b>A </b><b>Tangled </b><b>We </b>
<b>In </b><b>my </b><b>shoulders </b>eased as I stepped back <b>to </b>let <b>him </b><b>in</b>.
“<b>I’m </b><b>sorry </b><b>for </b>the wee,” I said, embarrassed by my <b>outburst</b>. <b>“</b><b>Ethan </b>showed <b>up </b>earlier with breakfast and I thought he’de back.”
Connor’s gaze shifted to the paper bag still sitting in the hallway outside my door. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“He’s been here already this morning?<b>” </b>he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
I nodded, closing the door behind him. “He woke me up knocking. I mmed the door in his <b>face</b><b>. </b>
Connor’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. “Good.”
He picked up the bag, examining it briefly before setting it on my kitchen counter. “How did he know where you live, Olivia?”
The question caught me off guard. “I… I don’t know. I never told him my address.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “That’s concerning. Someone gave him that information, which means there’s <b>a </b>security breach somewhere.”
He shrugged off his coat, hanging it carefully on the rack by the door. With practiced ease, he removed <b>his </b>shoes and slipped into the guest slippers I kept by the entrance.
The casual familiarity of his actions struck me–how naturally he imed space in my apartment<b>, </b>how his scent mingled with mine in a way that felt right.
“I’ll look into it,” he promised, moving into my kitchen as if he belonged there. “No one should have ess to your personal information without your consent.”
I watched as he opened my refrigerator, examining its contents with a critical eye. “You need groceries,” he observed, closing the door. “We’ll go shoppingter.”
The simple domesticity of the moment warmed something deep inside me. This wasn’t the controlling behavior I’d experienced with Ethan–this was partnership, care without suffocation.
“Connor,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Aboutst night… you mentioned something urgent hade
up.”
He turned to face me, his expression serious but open. “Yes. It was about Jessica Sullivan<b>.</b><b>” </b>
The blunt honesty of his response surprised me.
I was grateful for his transparency. Ethan would have deflected, changed the subject, or fed me a carefully crafted lie. But Connor trusted me with the truth, even when it involved sensitive pack business,
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