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“I’m so sorry,” she breathes. “Is there anything I can do?”
I scoff. “You mean besides burn the building down? Or push me off the roof?”
She bites her lip. “You know,” she says softly, tracing her finger on the fabric of my comforter. “I have a daughter. She’s only one, but…”
Her voice trails off, and I look at her quizzically.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if she presents as an Omega. I know it’s years from now, but…”
“HopefullyEdenwill be done by then,” I tell her.
She sniffs. “I’m sorry,” she adds again. “I hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.”
“Itis, Lindsay.”
She sighs, and we sit in silence. I wrap myself into a ball on my side, fighting through another cramp as she rifles through her makeup bag.
“In another news, there’s a big reception tonight,” she says, her voice cheery again. “Board members and donors ofEdenare getting together for a banquet dinner, and it’s being hosted by a celebrity chef.”
My eyes widen.
“What?” I sit up, my heart racing.
“Yeah. That Dylan guy? Dylan Armstrong, I think it is? The blonde Alpha? He’s cooking for them.”
Holy shit.
Dylan is going to be here.
Oh my God oh my God.
Alpha Alpha Alpha!
My inner Omega emerges, screaming in possession.
I should hate Dylan.
But the chance to see him…
“Do you know him?”
I catch Lindsay looking at me quizzically, and I shrug. “I’ve seen his cooking shows.”
“Well, he’s going to be at the reception cocktail hour, too. So, let’s plan your outfits and makeup.”
Dylan and Brock Armstrong.
I finally know their last names.
The flare of hope that Hannah ignited burns brightly with my newfound knowledge.
Dylan is going to be here tonight.
* * *
“I’m in love,”Hannah proclaims, meeting me at the bar. She’s dressed in a skintight black dress, her hair pulled into a loose bun with blonde curled tendrils falling down the sides of her face.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, sipping on my glass of champagne. The bubbles hit my tongue as I buzz with anxiety and arousal, desperate to see Dylan.
