I smile brightly as they enter our circle.
The father does indeed look disgruntled by my presence, and so does his daughter.
“Lord Oldsworth. Lady Marianne,” says Lord Augustus, standing at my side with a hand on the small of my back. He introduces me to the pair the same way he has to everyone else. “Allow me to introduce my omega, Jensen Lawlor.”
There’s something possessive about the way he says it. A slight emphasis on the wordmythat makes my insides feel warmer than usual.
Despite Lord Augustus’s charm, the conversation is stilted. The two lords manage a full breakdown of the weather while Marianne focuses all her attention on staring daggers at me.
Fortunately, I don’t mind at all. Having hordes of omegas I don’t know glaring at me with rampant jealousy is far from my idea of a bad time. In fact, it’s my idea of a fan-fucking-tastic time. It’s multiple teenage fantasies coming to life around me. It’s that moment in the movies when the main character gets a makeover that involves nothing more than taking offtheir glasses and swiping a lick of mascara on their lashes, and suddenly everyone realizes they’re utterly gorgeous.
I’m self-actualizingbig time.
When the conversation runs dry, Lord Augustus applies light pressure to my lower back. A warm handprint that makes my body curl toward his.
“May I get you another drink, little mouse?” he asks, his lips so close to my temple that I feel his breath on my skin.
“What an adorable pet name,” says Lady Marianne, looking positively nauseated.
I dip my chin, turning my face toward Lord Augustus. “Yes, please.”
I want to call him Alfie, but I’m not sure I can make the leap. I don’t know if I have it in me to say it aloud after calling him by his title for so long. I know I can’t call him Lord Augustus in this setting without blowing our cover. It wouldn’t be fitting for people who know each other intimately. In the end, I flick my eyes up at him and go with, “Alpha.”
I say it the same way he saysmy omega, except with a little more meaning.
Lady Marianne and her father make tracks after that, and Lord Augustus gets a glass of champagne for each of us from a nearby server.
“Little mouse?” I say, quirking a brow. “Where did that come from?”
Lord Augustus takes a sip of champagne, keeping it in his mouth in an attempt to savor the taste before swallowing. His Adam’s apple bobs, rising slightly and then traveling down slowly.
“I thought you were quiet as a mouse when you first arrived,” he says, chasing the admission down with another, quicker sip of champagne.
I stifle a snort. “Gosh. It must have been sobering for a big, bad alpha such as yourself to have been so very wrong about something.”
“It doesn’t happen often,” he replies, biting the inside of his cheek, “but in this instance, it seems to have been the case.”
We make our way to our table and take our seats. The meal drags on a little, but fortunately, champagne flows freely. The entire time we dine, there are eyes on me. Dark eyes. Jealous eyes. Eyes belonging to male and female omegas. Eyes that desire the man at my side. Eyes that glow green when he leans in to talk to me and turn sour when I laugh.
I cup my hand over Lord Augustus’s ear. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
“I know,” he giggles.He fucking giggles.“It’s working.”
“You know what we should do,” I suggest, pausing to let a waiter top off our glasses. “We should give them a show.”
The lord’s smile is lax now, wider than I’ve seen it before. “What kind of show?”
“I don’t know. You’re the alpha. You should know these things, shouldn’t you? The way you’ve told the story, you’re some kind of big deal, aren’t you? All devastatingly sexy and whatnot.” I take a big glug of champagne, flaring my nose as the bubbles tickle my tongue.
Lord Augustus fixes me with a devastating look. A happy-sad black-eyed look. The look of a man who hasn’t had any fun in a long time but remembers what it was like and misses it.
“Go on, Casanova,” I say, to encourage him. “Do your worst.”
“My worst? I wouldn’t dream of it.” He lets out a chuckle that starts weightless but turns throaty. He raises his glass to his lips and holds it there as if clear crystal can somehow mask his words. “My worst would incite an orgy the likes of which would get everyone here thrown in prison.”
I wait for him to laugh at his joke, but he doesn’t.
It takes a beat, but it slowly dawns on me that he wasn’t joking.
