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A beta like Jessa has no business getting caught up with an old alpha like me, hence my urgency to leave.
There are only a few people left in the dining room now that the lunch rush has come and gone, and I smirk as I lean my back against the counter behind the bar. As much as I enjoy a packed night full of people, conversation dancing through the air, I also enjoy the lulls. They give me the opportunity to step back and admire everything this restaurant has become over the years, surpassing even my wildest dreams.
When I first opened Sal’s, it was just me and a couple of friends who are dead now.
They had the funds, and I had the drive, the vision. I put in blood, sweat, and tears. Long days and longer, sleepless nights, but I never imagined it would pay off so much. Hoped, yes, but never did I imagine it would blossom into such a hot spot for businessmen and women alike to frequent.
I never thought a small eatery inspired by Tuscany, one of my favorite places to visit as a child, would change every aspect of my life and afford me comfortability the way it has.
That probably plays into why I’m so determined to help Jessa, despite the risks. This restaurant saved me when I was at my lowest, and I know it can do the same for her. Hopefully with as little interference from me as possible, but it’s hard to go against my alpha nature to provide and protect when she’s all I’ve fucking thought about today.
I’m definitely in trouble.
Damon relieves me at the bar, and I head to the office to handle some last-minute work before leaving for the day. A food order has to be placed today so it makes it in by the weekend, and I have to order more aprons for the line chefs.
Ronaldo is going to kill me if they have to wait for another month.
I smash a few keys on the keyboard, typing in the final quantities before sending the order through, and then browse quickly through a few apron options, eyes darting to the time in the corner of the screen as the minutes tick by.
Sweat forms on my brow as my insides cartwheel at the thought of Jessa showing up for work early. I skipped out after the restaurant opened yesterday and made it back in time to see her leaving, but that’s the closest we’ve been since she sat at the bar drinking her Charming Alphas.
Fire roiling in my chest as thoughts of her spring to life, I hurriedly click out of the browser and shove myself away from the desk. If I see her, I know I won’t be able to leave. The pull drawing me to her is just too much to resist, assaulting my nervous system and filling me with a burning need to be close to her.
What is she? A goddamn omega?
No.
I would have scented her if she were.
I’m sure it’s just been way too long since I’ve gotten my dick wet, and the feral urge to have a soft body I can knot inside of beneath me outweighs my decision to remain single and isolated.That has to be it.
I groan, running a hand through my hair that’s gotten way too long. I’m looking scruffy around the edges, so that might be what I do when I leave–go for a haircut. I’ll have to find something else to do before going home to my empty shell of a house, but it’s a start. All I know is I can’t stay here much longer.
Yet, as I grab my keys and start for the door, I hesitate, walking slowly and triple checking to make sure things are neat and tidy around the office.
Even though my mind is entirely made up to leave, to get out before Jessa shows up for her shift, my body seems incapable of following orders. The need swirling like heat in my chest is too primal, too desperate to fight with any possibility of winning.
I curse. Good intentions be damned, this whole idea is terrible.
Flinging open the office door, I turn toward the dining area to wave goodbye to Damon and pause abruptly in the short hallway. Even though it’s thirty minutes before her shift, Jessa is standing at the front door, giggling with the hostess. The sight of her is like a swift punch to the gut, and for a moment, I can’t do anything but stare.
Her black pants hug every bit of her slight curves, and her black shirt is cut just right to accentuate her chest. Her hair is pulled back in a wavy ponytail, and she’s done her makeup brighter than when I met her. Subtle eye makeup, soft pink lips. She looks much more natural, even though the black doesn’t do much for her.
I’d prefer to see her wearing a tight, red dress with a high slit up the thigh, or something blue to compliment her eyes.
Before I can turn and hurry toward the back door, her eyes shift in my direction, and I’m frozen as they lock with mine.
My chest tightens, sending a jolt straight down to my dick, and I can’t do anything but stare back at her. Thoughts hazy, I fight for control of my extremities, but they move me forward, carrying me in her direction without my consent.
Fuck. Shit. Damn.
“Alessandro,” she says when I stop in front of them. She’s much shorter without her heels on, the top of her head reaching my chest, and when she stares up at me, my chest tightens.
The hostess blushes the way she always does when I’m near. It’s a well-known fact that all my employees call me Alex or Alpha, but I can’t bring myself to correct Jessa. It sounds far too sweet on her tongue.
“Jessa.” I love the way her name tastes. “I see you got your uniform in order.”
The hint of nervousness in her gaze tells me she wasn’t expecting me to bring it up immediately, and her cheeks flush pink, but there’s something else in her expression that leaves me feeling unsettled.
