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Chapter5
Grumpy
She was late, not that I should care. Or notice.
The main dining room was packed, every seat filled with a glittering member of the elite, with enough alphas and omegas that the air purification units were having trouble filtering out all the different scents.
Every chair and bench was filled except the one next to me, where I had asked my niece to be seated, though the scrawny, overdressed wedding coordinator had tried to argue. Stupid woman. I was spending over a week away from my offices for this charade, and the only good part about it so far was getting to see Sylvia.
Andher.Soleil, that ridiculously sweet-smelling, innocent young omega who had fallen into my lap. Or weaseled her way into it, like so many other women had tried. Though if she was attempting to be some sort of seductress, she was doing a piss-poor job of it. Where the hell was she?
I had more questions for the little liar now than I’d had on the pier. After I’d gotten her safely aboard—she’d seemed inordinately afraid of falling in when the tender pulled up alongside the yacht, and I’d had to pry her fingers off my arm—I’d gone straight to the conference room and called Storm Security to get answers.
“What is it, Grantham?” Storm panted through the phone. He sounded seriously out of breath, which worried me. He’d looked like shit the last time I saw him, and had confided that he’d developed some sort of heart condition.
Then he let out a groan. “There she goes again. Wearing that damned bikini.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I drawled. “Did I interrupt? You watching porn?”
“Practically,” he growled. “What do you want now?”
“I need to know more about Soleil Fairweather.” He’d sent over all her relevant information a few hours before. Her school records, her past history with the Omega League, her medical history. Even her parents’ tax returns, which had shocked me the most. By most people’s standards, they were wealthy. Why the hell would she take this job? “I need to know everything about her.”
“Aboutyourbetasitter who isn’t a beta? I sent her files right after you texted.”
“I want to know her first kiss, her first heat, her text messages, her social media passwords, every fucking detail there is.” It was illegal as hell, but I didn’t pay Storm Security a retainer of ten million a year for nothing.
He laughed, wheezing slightly. “I’ve never heard you curious about a woman. I thought you’d given up on omegas after that Zoe woman.”
I cursed. Zoe Henning was an up-and-coming starlet I’d dated a few years before. The last omega I’d touched. I’d thought she was a good actress, but I’d had no idea.Every day had been filled with laughter, every evening with parties, and the nights with her crying out around my knot, though she seemed to enjoy the sex more than I did. She’d smelled of lavender and vanilla, not my favorite scents. But all omegas smelled pleasant to unbonded alphas.
She’d almost convinced me to marry her, that she loved me. Then I’d caught her ordering filtering nose plugs and having them delivered to her massage therapist’s office. According to the masseuse—who was happy to share every detail for a few hundred thousand dollars—I smelled like rotting onions to Zoe. But she was willing to live with it, for the money. The prestige.
It’s why I never trusted a smile.
“What is it about this one, Gio?”
“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I’m… concerned, is all.”
“Concerned?”
“Intrigued, maybe.”
“If you’re asking for every detail of her entire life, you’re crossing into obsessed, friend.”
I swallowed the insults that wanted to pour out, then muttered, “She had on what looked like an engagement ring.”
He cursed. “I’ve got you. You’ll have everything within two days. All known family, friends, dating history, name of the fiancé.” I cut off the growl that emerged at that, but he heard it. “If there is one, okay? My people didn’t find any record of a fiancé.”He mumbled something that sounded like, “Her best friend will know,” then said more clearly, “Some advice, Grantham? If she’s who I think she might be to you, what it sounds like? Don’t let her get away.”
I had no intention of letting her get anywhere. Not that she could, a hundred miles from shore, but the longer she was absent from the dining room, the more agitated I became. Where the fuck was she?
The head waiter glanced at me again, waiting for my signal to bring out the first course. I shook my head and stood. I’d go find the little brat, and show her exactly what happened to—
At that moment, the door opened. But it wasn’t Soleil.
Sylvia stepped in, alone. I blinked, beyond surprised at her appearance. I’d rarely seen her in anything besides black clothing for two years—though god only knew where she was getting them from, since Lorelei sure as hell wasn’t buying them for her. The few times Sylvia had worn a dress, they’d been expensive but also young, like something a ten-year-old would wear. Sylvia had looked miserable in pink, baby blue, and yellow at the three family events Lore had dragged her to.
“I’m firing that betasitter,” Lorelei muttered next to me. “She swore Syl would be dressed appropriately.”
