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If anyone overhears them, I’m done. This secret is the last thing they can take from me–I don’t have anything else–and I refuse to have them ruin my life more than they already have.
The corner of Caleb’s mouth hikes up, and he shakes his head. “I have to give credit where it’s due. Hiding as a beta was a good plan, Jessy. Just not good enough.”
My stomach does another sickening twist, and my jaw hardens.
“You need to leave,” I say sternly, crossing my arms over my chest.
I’ve come too far, worked too hard, to have everything unravel now. With any luck, they’ll accept my rejection and leave after eating, and this will all blow over without Alessandro finding out who they are or what I am.
I doubt it’ll be that easy, but it’s a nice thought. Nothing is ever easy when it comes to the Sorenson pack.
“We didn’t come here to leave alone, Jessy. Get our drinks, and we can talk about it,” Caleb snaps back. “Two modelos and a whiskey on the rocks. Go.”
I stand there staring at him, unwilling and unable to move. I don’t want to speak to them, much less wait on them, and I’m definitely not going anywhere with them.
But I’m not eager to make a scene, either. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of a restaurant full of people.In front of Alessandro.
Caleb’s eyes darken when I refuse to move, and he growls low.
“Now,” he commands, the demand carrying enough inflection that my blood turns to ice. Before I can fight the compulsion or tell him exactly where he can shove his alcohol, my feet spin me around, and I head for the kiosk to punch in their order.
I’ve never tried to fight an alpha command before, but the compulsion is intense. My body betrays me, my muscles moving on their own accord as I head to the kitchen and grab the complimentary basket of bread with dipping sauce and place it on a tray. Then, I make my way to the bar to collect their drinks.
When my eyes land on Alessandro, my chest twists, and I inhale shakily. Should I tell him who’s sitting right across the restaurant from him? Should I tell him I’m not comfortable serving them or admit I want to run out of the restaurant without finishing my shift?
“Are you waiting on your order for table three?” he asks as I step up to the end of the bar.
“Yeah.” My voice is forced.
I don’t know what else I can say. I just know as long as my old alphas behave and don’t cause a scene, I don’t want to bring Alessandro into it. The thought of him kicking them out now is nice, but I’m still clinging to the shred of hope that they’ll leave me alone and won’t cause any problems.
It’s a stupid, silly hope, but hope, nonetheless.
“Everything okay?” he asks as he pops the tops off two beers and sets them on my tray. Then, he grabs a glass for the whiskey on the rocks and quickly throws it together.
I nod. “Yep. Everything’s fine.”
I must not sound as convincing as I intend to, because he places the whiskey on the tray and plants himself firmly in front of me.
“Jessa,” he says.
I swallow hard and drag my eyes up to meet his. They’re serious but warm and comforting, and they bring a tiny bit of peace to my chaotic mind.
“Are you overwhelmed? I can ask Sara to cover some of your tables if you need a break,” he says, his voice soft and soothing.
Gods, I wish it was such a simple fix, but it’s not. Not even close.
“Everything’s fine,” I repeat, grabbing for the tray.
His jaw hardens and he nods. I’m not entirely sure he believes me, but I take the bread and alcohol back across the dining room to all but throw them at my old alphas.
“Easy now,” Sean says as his whiskey almost sloshes out of the glass when I put it down in front of him, but I don’t care.
“I’ll be back to take your order in a minute,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning to walk away before they can bark any other orders at me.
I check on my other tables, refilling drinks and giving some their checks, dreading my walk back over to section one. My mind is reeling, spinning in every direction as I walk the perimeter of the dining room.
I feel like I’m trapped in a jail cell.
