Page 17 of Bitter Truths

Weller approaches next. His hand touches my arm, his thumb brushing once across the bare skin at my wrist. The contact is feather light, but my skin still tingles beneath the surface. “Congratulations, Bianca.”

I stumble over my gown and crash into Owen’s solid wall of warmth and muscle.

“Easy, Princess.” He steadies me, large hands sliding along my waist. The possessiveness of his touch makes my knees weak. He positions me to face him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “All grown up. Cap and gown suit you.”

“Everything suits her,” Tristan drawls.

I realize I haven’t said a word. Being so close to them after what happened is making my body go crazy.

Mom claps her hands. “Picture time! Boys, get in with Bianca.”

They position themselves around me. Owen keeps me close, his warmth hugs me, tempting me closer. Weller stands beside him. Freddie slides in on my other side, his arm draped across my shoulders. Tristan stands behind me, his chest brushing my spine.

Their closeness calms the restless feeling I’ve had all week.

“Perfect!” Mom raises her camera. “Now smile!”

Winston lunges into the frame, his hand messing up my carefully styled hair with rough fingers. “Can’t leave me out of the shot!”

The flash captures my startled laugh, Winston’s mischievous grin, and four alphas glowering at the interruption.

“Winston!” I swat at him, fingers combing through tangled strands. “Mom, take another one.”

“That was perfect,” she insists, reviewing the photo. “Candid moments are the best!”

“Don’t worry, Princess,” Owen whispers near my ear. “You look beautiful even with your hair messed up.”

My cheeks go hot. Winston’s eyes narrow, flicking between us. I step away from Owen, but his scent clings to me.

“Can you believe it?” Mom sighs, tucking her camera away. “My baby graduated. Not valedictorian like Winston and I were, but still with honors.”

Ah, yes. Never quite measuring up to the Quinn family standard.

“I ranked fifth,” I remind her.

Mom pats my cheek. “Of course, honey. That’s still wonderful.”

Dad gives me a wink. “A perfect GPA and the best heart by far. Don’t let your mom get to you.”

“Fifth is exceptional,” Weller states, his tone brooking no argument. “Bianca has always excelled in what matters to her.”

Mom’s eyebrows rise, surprised by the defense. Clara jumps in to smooth things over. “I just made the top twenty when I graduated. Fifth is incredible.”

Winston drops his arm around my shoulders. “My sister’s brilliant. She just doesn’t feel the need to show off about it.”

“Says the guy who had his valedictorian medal framed,” I shoot back.

“Mom framed it,” he corrects, grinning. “I just didn’t stop her.”

“Bianca!” Whitney cuts into our conversation as she approaches, immaculate in pale peach, her robe already abandoned. Hair falling in perfect blonde waves, makeup flawless despite the afternoon heat.

Her perfume floods the space. I stand straighter, fighting the urge to shrink beside her perfection.

Whitney hugs me like we’re in a movie. “We need to go! The hair and makeup team is already at my house.”

Her eyes skim over the alphas. “Hello, boys. You’re coming to the party, right?”

“We’ll be there,” Freddie confirms.