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Stupid Alphas.
Why is Grey bothering me, anyway? Doesn’t he have an Omega to go to?
“Do you know the story behind this table?” he asks me suddenly, and I scrunch my face in confusion.
“There’s a story?”
“It was custom built,” he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. He speaks in a hushed tone, as if it’s a secret. “The person who designed it dreamt it up, then sketched it out the next morning.”
“Oh. That’s interesting,” I say. “It really is stunning.”
And there’s that look again. He looks haunted, taking a deep breath, and his eyes search mine. “Yes. The designer was quite imaginative.”
“Alright.” This is fucking weird, and I shove a forkful of eggs benedict into my mouth and focus my attention on Wilson, who trots back into the room with amrow.
Grey frowns and turns his attention to the furry lump. “He shouldn’t be in here.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I say. “Unless he’s bothering you.”
Which I can’t imagine, as Wilson flops onto his back, showing off a small white patch of stomach between the black fur.
He’s the friendliest thing here besides Charlotte.
Grey’s eyes flick back to mine. “I thought you were allergic,” he says carefully. His lips form into a thin line as he regards me. “Unless James is mistaken.”
“Do you gossip about all your guests?” I quip before I can stop myself. Grey raises an eyebrow, amused, and I sigh. “Yes. Um, I supposedly am. I haven’t been around cats in a while. And he hasn’t affected me so far.”
“What do you mean ‘supposedly?’”
I clench my fork.
He doesn’t deserve to know.
What’s happened to me is no one’s business.
But I’m never going to see him again after this week. Would it hurt to unload on a stranger, even if the stranger is a dick?
I stare at my plate as I move the egg yolk around and take a deep breath.
“Forgive me,” he says suddenly. “That wasn’t my place.”
Surprised, I glance up. His eyes are the color of the forest, the green blazing with intensity.
Just like James, he’s ridiculously handsome.
With his sliver of earnestness, I decide to tell the truth.
The truth I haven’t shared with anyone.
“I was in a car accident a while ago,” I confess, setting my fork down. “Hence,this,” I motion to the scar on my face, still visible with the makeup. “And I forgot some things about my life. So, other people have had to fill in the details for me.”
That’s all I’ll share. If I bring uphim,I’ll cry, either from shame or anger.
Grey is careful, his face giving away no emotion. “How long ago was the accident?” he asks quietly.
The room is silent for far too long, and I choke down a sob that threatens to escape my throat.
I willnotcry in front of him.
