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He says it, but his body language says the opposite. It says worry about it. It says I fucked up badly. I reach for him, but he stands up and goes to the fridge.
“I’m going to head in, I'll catch up with you tomorrow. Seb should be back in a minute.”
I put my head in my hands as he disappears and stay like that until Seb takes a seat next to me. He puts an arm over my shoulder, and I find myself leaning into his strength.
“I keep fucking everything up.”
“Oma has a saying for that.” Seb says back.
“Oh?”
“She says it can only get better when it’s good and fucked.”
I snort a laugh. “She does not.”
“Oh, I assure you, she does. She swears like a sailor. Do not ask her about her omega, ever. Those stories…you’ll never look at her the same way again.”
I lean into him, giggling, and Seb keeps his arms around me, teasing me into laughter long into the night.
thirteen
Missy
“Get dressed, princess, it’s time to do your part and earn some of the coin we’ve spent on you and live up to your end of the contract.” He stands over me, with his hands on his hips, smirking with this insufferable smugness. His words cause a tension to shift in the room, but I’m barely able to focus. He’s showered, his hair’s wet. I inhale and catch his scent, it wraps around me, making me dizzy and reigniting the low key arousal that I can’t quite eradicate, no matter how much of a dick he is.
I sit up, glowering at him. I despise the tone he just used, but it’s the pet name that really grates. I don’t even care that he’s making me sound like some investment that hasn’t paid dividends.
“Doing what?” I ask, pretending like his words haven’t hit a nerve. Like I don’t want to rub my thighs together and moan.
“You’re going out on our arms as our omega to be seen and get us through doors that have been closed thus far. Exactly what you proposed to do for us.”
“Such a romantic invitation.”
“You want romance, go see Pack Samuels.” The arousal dies faster than an arrow through my heart.
We both know he’s gone too far, but he won’t take it back. I turn my head so that he can use the moment to walk away and save face. Except he doesn’t, he doubles down.
“We’re going to Bellvue, so dress nice. Wear something that makes you look classy.”
I stare at my fingertips and shake my head. Of course, we’re going to the most expensive restaurant in the city, the only restaurant with waiting lists of over twelve months. And I need to dress ‘classy’.
“Make sure you look pretty. Makeup. Jewelry. Sexy dress and shoes. And your hair, put it up.”
I turn slowly to face him. “Darion,” I growl out in warning. The smell of vanilla is sharp in the air, the tang of raspberries is bitter. “Would you like to supervise?”
He mutters something I pretend not to hear as he wanders away.
“There’s a black dress in your wardrobe. That will be sufficient for tonight,” Lukas murmurs to me. “It’s not too revealing, and it will work for tonight.”
I try to catch his eyes so I can convey my thanks and gratitude, but he doesn’t even look up from his phone.
I watch him for a moment, my throat tight as I realise I don’t like Lukas being mad at me. It’s upsetting me on a level that I don’t even comprehend. It just feels wrong, and I want to crawl over to him and rub my face on his stomach. Instead, I clench my fists and leave the room.
In the mirror is a woman I don’t even know anymore. We stare at each other as I search for the girl who wore holey jeans and a t-shirt with ease. I don’t look like myself; I look…I don’t even know. The clothes I expected to leave me feeling naked have done something different. They feel like armour, like Missy Clark is hidden so deeply behind them that no one would even see me. But this woman, I don’t know her.
I leave the bathroom and walk into the lounge and stand there, clutching the purse in my hands. Darion is the first to spot me. Even if I missed the way his eyes widen and dilate, I don’t miss the flaring of his nostrils or the way he swallows hard.
And now I feel naked and seen.
