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“Yeah? How do you help them?”
He waves the doorman away when he attempts to open the waiting car door for us. As he holds the door open, I climb in, waiting for his answer. Austin glowers at me from across the seat, and Felix smiles. I slide across the soft leather beneath me, attempting not to flash either of them my panties in this short dress. Dean slides in right after me.
“I build tiny house villages. Some of them give the homeless a chance at getting their lives back, a place to lay their head and shower so they can get a job. We dedicate others to domestic violence survivors and their children. A haven for them to hide and find their feet again. It is something that is close to my heart.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “I was looking at a place in Harem the other day that I want to turn into an apartment building to do something similar in the city.”
My heart flutters. Could this man be more perfect? He is fine as fuck and cares about the less fortunate. A smile plays on my lips as he watches me. I’m sure I’m making the whole vehicle smell, but none of them say a word about it, and honestly, all I can smell is the combination of them. Leather, fall, cinnamon, lemon, and an almost fresh scent of an ocean breeze. Together it is almost intoxicating in the same way it tantalizes the sense when I’m only around one of them at a time.
Felix is very much the ocean breeze, and I’m not sure if it is a rare beta scent or body wash. But it is nice. Dean is a mixture of leather and lemon; the earthy and citrus smell combines into the perfect mix that I just want to nuzzle into. It seriously does things to me that are better left unsaid. And of course the fall leaves and cinnamon are comforting in a way the man isn’t. It reminds me of home in the country and safety. Almost fooling my brain into thinking I am actually safe with these three.
“And that is why we call him Saint,” Austin says dryly.
“I suppose you don’t help the needy?” I ask, giving him a look that says I already know you don’t.
He pokes his tongue into his cheek and eyes me. “Sure I do. I have a charity case sitting right across from me.”
I roll my eyes at the jab and wiggle my feet just to highlight the fact I still won. “I was doing just fine before you came along.”
“Okay, play nice,” Felix says, attempting to be the peacekeeper. “You are going to love The Clocktower. They have the best pancakes with berries.”
I’ve been before, in another life, and I have to agree that it is the best dish on the menu. My dad loved the British offerings, said it reminded him of being in England for school.
“Sounds amazing,” I say instead. They don’t need to know my past for me to do this job. And it is probably better the less they knew. If Austin picks up on the fact that my dad was the De Luca Kingpin when he was alive, I’m not sure what he’d do about it.
The drive over is fast and, as soon as we pull up outside, Dean opens the door and climbs out, followed by Felix. Before I can slide over the smooth leather, he shuts the door and jogs around to the door closest to me, holding it open for me and offering me his arm again. Right, public appearances. I’m their omega out in the world, so they are going to treat me like a cherished one.
My fingers wrap around his bicep easily this time, and I smile up at him as if he is my world. It is easy to fake. Austin climbs out after me and walks on my other side, his hand guiding me. As we approach the door, Felix rushes to grab the door for us, while Austin’s warm palm burns a hole through the fabric at my lower back.
Once inside, the woman at the podium eyes the men with me. I know what she sees. They are all off the scale of hotness. When her attention turns to me, she looks me up and down, her attention pausing on my boots.
What felt like a win in the penthouse doesn’t feel that way as the corner of her lip rises with derision, and she brings her attention back to Austin.
“Mr. Zade, what a pleasure to have you this morning. Do you want your usual table in the back?”
“No, today, I want to be seen. Do you have something near the windows?” He presses into my side. “I want the world to know we found our omega,” he adds after she gives me another nasty look.
Then he fucking nuzzles my neck like he has a right. A low rumble that sounds almost like a purr comes from his chest and ghosts across my skin. And I whine. In public. My face flushes hot, and I’m sure it is as red as the velvet seats.
My fingers curl into Dean’s bicep as I hold myself in place. The woman snaps out four menus and practically stomps across the room to a seat near the windows. Her friendly demeanor evaporated like a puddle in the scorching sun. When her eyes land on me again, I straighten and give her a smile. That’s right, these men are mine.
Whoa.
No, that isn’t what I meant. I am playing a part. That’s all. Right?
Austin leads me onto the bench seat and sits closely next to me, while the other two pull out the chairs across from us. His fingers wrap around my upper thigh beneath the table, and I don’t call him out. I should. There is no reason for the touch and Ihatetouch.
Don’t I?
The longer his palm presses half against my bare skin and half on the silky fabric, the more his fingers rub soothing circles, relaxing me.
Once the tension seeps from my shoulders, he removes his hand, and the cool air on the spot is a harsh reminder that I want him to touch me more.
I get my wish almost immediately as he tosses his arm across the bench behind us and then tugs me to his side as the waitress approaches. He drops his head and inhales at my neck again, and I shudder as my nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric, poking obviously hard past the two layers I wore.
“Can I get you something to drink?” This new woman is all business. Not a shred of desire is in her tone, and it eases something inside of me as I smile up at her. Omega’s order first. I knew that, but my heart rate kicks up as nerves make my palms clammy. This is silly.
“Orange juice, please,” I say, almost tripping over my words in my haste to get them out.
“I’ll take the same,” Austin rumbles, his breath caressing my skin.
