Page 26

Heels.

Does my mind short-circuit for a second because of the image that provokes? Yeah. Not helpful.

Shaking my head, I shove it aside, pushing off the bed and heading to my own room. A shower is much needed. I just had her, but my body doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo.

I rinse off quickly, the water just hot enough to ease the remaining tension from my muscles, before I step out and pull on gray slacks and a black button-up, leaving the collar open.

By the time I reached the kitchen, everyone else was already gathered there, sipping coffee.

Voss is dressed similarly to me—black jeans, black shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, hair still damp but already pulled back into his usual bun.

Unsurprisingly, Romano is dressed in black jeans and a tee shirt that reads ‘Nerds Are Better.’

I snort at that.

Fallon is already at the counter, laughing as she rolls Kingston’s sleeves up to his elbows, utterly unaware of the fact that he lets her manhandle him like it’s second nature.

Kingston, for his part, looks like he expected this. His black slacks are well-fitted, and his red dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, falling just on the right side of the polished and relaxed.

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms as I watch them. This. This is it right here. Her in our kitchen. Romano being his usual brand of ridiculous. Voss stared at her with a dark glint in his eyes. Kingston is letting Fallon adjust his wardrobe like she’s been here forever.

It’s domestic. Easy.

And fuck me, I think I like it.

Fallon looks up at me, beaming a bright smile. “Are we ready to roll?”

Fallon

February 17th

11:30 A.M

If looks could kill, Amanda Clery would have dropped dead the moment I stepped through the doors. Hell, I could have ended her with my bare hands if I really wanted to.

The moment we walked in, I saw her—tall, willowy, fake blonde extensions curled perfectly around her too-thin face. She was wearing a skintight white dress, which was entirely inappropriate for a fitting appointment and cut so high up her thighs that it barely qualified as clothing.

Her makeup was flawless, perfectly contoured with deep red lipstick that I was pretty sure she applied for the sole purpose of marking whatever she could. Who wears red lipstick to a wedding dress fitting?

The second we entered, she was berating Rose, her voice sharp, cruel, meant to cut. Rose, to her credit, stood her ground, but she was pale, lips pressed together, fingers trembling slightly.

I started toward them, ready to handle it, when I saw Robert—the only other omega at this location—looking shaken and close to tears.

So, I did what any responsible business owner and decent human being would do. I went to comfort Robert. And that’s when Amanda’s true colors showed.

She went from angry beta bride-to-be to desperate slut in record time.

The moment my back was turned, she latched onto Romano, flipping her blonde hair, laughing in that fake breathy way that made my skin crawl.

I would have given her credit for boldness if it weren’t so utterly pathetic.

Romano, bless him, looked mildly horrified—his usual golden-retriever energy completely gone, replaced with pure discomfort as he tried to back away.

Of course, she didn’t take the hint.

The click of my heels against the marble floor must have been a warning because Voss and Jace—who were the closest—immediately turned to watch.

Jace subtly nudged Kingston, who followed their gaze and found me stalking toward them like a lioness on the hunt.