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Rain rubbed her temples with her forefingers. “Forget brides. You’ll either set omega rights forward a decade, or back a hundred years.”
I ignored her, focusing my attention on the macarons on my plate. I couldn't have caffeine now, but I could have pastries, and Chez Palette’s were the best. Thank goodness I didn’t have morning sickness.
Honestly, of the two of us, Rain was the one who looked sick. She’d been dropped off by a uniformed driver in a Bentley again today, wearing a couture dress that I had seen in a recent magazine. She’d gotten back in town two days after Giovanni had proposed. But when I demanded she tell me her story, she’d burst into tears and begged me not to make her talk about it yet.
So I didn’t. Instead, I made her my maid of honor and gave her a shit ton of work to take her mind off the guy who’d made her cry.
For the past three weeks, we’d met daily in the back office of Chez Palette, since Giovanni wanted us to be married as soon as possible. Today, she’d seemed particularly distraught, but between the stack of baked goods, the waves of my calming omega pheromones I’d been accidentally pumping out, and the graphic descriptions of everything Grumpy and I had gotten up to in bed so far, she was smiling through her tears.
She sucked down half her black coffee in one swallow, and went on. “The announcements at least were a hit on Instagram.”
“They were so cute, right? The little suns on the fronts with the yellow Swarovski crystals, and the envelope origami boats…”
She glared at me. “Don’t remind me, Soleil. I still have the paper cuts from stuffing all five hundred envelopes. As I was saying, from the announcements to the pornographic bachelorette party favors, which one of our League friends leaked to the press—”
I glared back. “They were notpornographic.They were sex positive.”
She frowned. “Tiny bottles of lube instead of bubbles, plus his and hers cock rings and lipstick vibes? By the way, Flora said she had anal beads in hers as well.”
“I made a few special ones,” I said, sipping my horrifically decaffeinated mocha.
“I thought we were trying to avoid the omega stereotype. Just be more circumspect with the wedding favors themselves, okay?”
“We are. We’re doing certificates for planted trees in old growth forests, carbon offsets for the entire wedding, and wooden carved boats in bottles made by the omega artists’ co-op downtown. Every company we’ve contracted with is at least partly omega-run.”
“As long as the reception has great food—not shaped like penises this time—then we should avoid a catastrophe.” She glared even harder, and I tried to look innocent.I had ordered individual dick-shaped petit fours for the bachelorette party, and somehow a picture of Rain putting her mouth around one, with a very convincing O face, had found its way into myBlackmail for Eternityphoto album.
“Got it,” I said with a thumbs up, then dove back into the enormous stack of macarons on my plate. “Good food and drinks. Not that I can even drink the cocktails.”
“Don’t act like you’re not drinking Captain Campari every night.” Her lips twitched into a smile when I pretended to be embarrassed. “I’m so glad you practiced that party trick,” she mumbled. “Have you shown him the double cherry stem knotting maneuver I taught you?”
“I’m saving that for the honeymoon,” I replied with a wink. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets, right?”
“Secrets. Sure. Everybody loves secrets,” she muttered, then squared her shoulders and tore into an éclair like she was biting off someone’s head.
Thelittlehead.Ouch.
Before I could find a way to ask if she’d been visualizing any peen in particular with that bite, she mumbled, “I saw a huge deposit in the Blue Skies account with Tarquin’s name on it. I thought you said you gave back the ring?”
I handed her a napkin. “I did. But he was introducing me to his new girlfriend, and she asked about our business. So I told them what we did, and he bought advance vouchers for two months of betasitting for a friend who’s just moved to town. Paid premium, too.” I rolled my eyes as she began to bluster about staffing shortages. “Don’t worry. I’ll either hire qualified staff, or do it myself.”
Her face froze, and a dollop of éclair cream dropped from her open mouth. “You’re going to keep running Blue Skies with me?”
My own jaw dropped. “Is this why you’ve been so down? Of course I am! It’s half mine. Legally now! I’m not letting you buy me out, either.”
“But… you’ll be married in six more weeks. And almost out of your first trimester. You’re telling me Giovanni Grantham is going to let his pregnant wife run a temp agency? Betasit?”
“Let?” I rolled my eyes. “Do you really think he could stop me from doing whatever I want?”
“He’s an alpha, Soleil. And a billionaire. Don’t act like he’s not stronger than you.”
“Physically? Sure.” I fluttered my eyelashes, letting a burst of my omega pheromones out on purpose. “But you remember that story my dad always told about the guy with the coat on, and the sunshine?”
“The one about how the cold wind couldn’t make him take his clothes off, but the sunshine did?” Rain grinned. “Your dad is such a pervert.”
“It wasn’t the man’s clothes—it was just his coat, Rain,” I said, smacking her arm. “Get it right. Anyway, I’m working my irresistible magic on Grumpy. While the paparazzi are so wild, he wants me to take a break. So I’ll do the web stuff, the writing. Online interviews and even the bookkeeping, if I have to. But once we’re married, I’m back in the betasitting biz.”
She pretended she wasn’t crying, and I pretended not to notice. After a few minutes, she said, “Right. We have to make a final decision on the reception theme today.”
