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Hawk stood, wandering around the couches to stare out the windows. He rarely stood still when he had a choice. “I don’t like lying to her.”

“We’re not lying,” I said.

He turned to look at me, a frown on his face. “It kind of feels like we are.”

“If we tell her now, she’ll run,” Cade said. “She’s determined not to want anyone.”

I crossed my arms. “I think that kiss says otherwise.”

His grin spoke volumes. “I said she’sdeterminednot to want anyone. Not that she doesn’t. This ex of hers fucked with her head. It’s a defense mechanism. She doesn’t want to be hurt again or feel what he made her feel again, so she’s choosing to shut down first.”

Joel sank deeper into the plush couch. There wasn’t any part of this house which wasn’t sheer luxury. Even just running my hand over the cushion felt expensive.

We’d always been curious about this place. It was visible from our house, and obviously gorgeous. Being inside it was a whole different ball game.

But I liked our house better, new as it was. We had plenty of luxury, and it was designed for our needs. Now I could think about how Isolde might fit into that picture, and I liked it. The nest nestled between the empty Omega suite and the rest of the house. Imagining that?—

I stopped the thoughts. First, we needed to make sure she knew, and that she wanted us. We needed her to want us.

“If she asks us, don’t lie,” Joel said. “About anything. If she has an idea, or wants to know, we hide nothing. However, in this case, I think a little caution is necessary.” He looked at Hawk. “For the record, I don’t like it either. But I hate the idea of losing her more.”

Hawk shoved his hands in the pockets of his black jeans and looked down at his feet. “Can’t argue there.”

The closet door opened and Trinity Crawford came striding out like the powerhouse she was. We agreed to do a confidential interview with her because she had a track record of good interviews with people of every background, including sex workers. The last thing we wanted was an interviewer who spoke with us and then wrote an article trashing who we were and what we did.

But I wasn’t sure what we were anymore. Like hell was I going to continue taking clients if Isolde was in our lives. I couldn’t. Maybe the others could, but I doubted it.

It was like lightning striking. The place it struck would never be the same as it once was. She consumed my every thought, and we’d only just met her.

Trinity gave a little wave as she walked to the door and opened it for a woman with wildly curly hair wrapped up ina scarf, and a big black rolling case nearly as big as Isolde’s suitcase.

I should have been furious at the Omega for breaking the incredibly strict non-disclosure agreement we made her sign, but I wasn’t. Because her actions gave us Isolde. And her risking that for her friend told me mountains. Both about who she was as a person, and what she thought her friend needed.

How little she knew.

“Can one of you go back to the front door? Iz is getting a delivery, and I need to help Ronnie get set up.”

“Sure,” I stood, wanting to stretch my legs. “Who am I looking for?”

Trinity glanced at her phone. “Says his name is Daryl.” That was all she gave me before disappearing back into the closet.

I looked around at my packmates. “I guess I’m going to see Daryl.”

The Caruso mansion sprawled. Thankfully, I paid attention on the way in, but even then, it felt like I was wandering in a palace. People were here and there, moving with quick determination. Probably getting things ready for the party, which is what we needed to do as well.

I blew out a breath when I saw the front door. Now to get back to the suite without getting lost. The front steps were wide, cascading down in front of the mansion into the gravel drive, which was slowly and steadily filling with cars and people.

“You’re going to have to remind me of your name.”

The voice came from my left. Isolde’s stepfather stood there, smoking a cigar. I turned to him and held out my hand again. “Vaughn, Mr. Caruso.”

He clasped my hand with his free one and gestured with his cigar. “Call me Henry. Mr. Caruso feels like I’m at work.”

“All right, Henry.”

He looked at me, gaze sharp. “Have you known Isolde long? She never told us about you.”

This was something I needed to handle delicately. No lying. “Not too long, no. But we were more than willing to come and support her for this.”

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