Page 49

Della

At exactly seven, I hear a knock on my apartment door.

I don’t have first-date jitters; I'm a massive ball of stress and tension, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.

I’m used to looking out for my sister, but dates?

Dates?

I take a deep breath for courage and open my front door.

Vincent is in black jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a black jacket, looking sexy as hell.

I look down at my slinky, ankle-length black dress, nervously plucking at the silky fabric. “I’m overdressed, aren’t I?”

When he doesn’t respond, I peek at him through my lashes. I went all out—elegant black dress with thin straps, silver sandals, and smoky eyes with dark red lipstick. My shoulder-length auburn hair is wavy, and according to my sister, very sexy.

But maybe it’s too much.

“Vincent?”

It’s like watching someone come out of a dream. He shakes his head, blinks, and stares some more. His mouth opens. Then it closes.

I take a step back. “I can change if?—”

He slides an arm around my back and tucks me against his chest. He’s kicking off serious heat as he touches his lips to mine in a whisper of a kiss. “You look beautiful. You opened the door and I just…”

Words fail him, and I grin. “You like the dress?”

“I like you in the dress,” he gently corrects me. “Shall we go?”

“Okay.”

I’m hyperconscious of the hand Vincent is resting at the base of my spine, his little finger a half inch away from grazing my ass.

“You keep watching me,” he says as he guides me out of my apartment and into a mild evening. His black Audi sits parked right outside.

I haven’t stopped watching him since we rode the elevator down.

“This doesn’t feel real,” I quietly admit.

He stops beside his car, looks down at me, and brushes a finger along my jaw. “I know.”

“How did you know I was watching you?”

He bends his head and touches his lips to mine. “Because I haven’t stopped watching you .” Tension crackles between us, and he straightens, unlocking the passenger door and holding it open for me. “Come on, or we’ll never make it to dinner.” His voice is husky.

I get in and buckle up as he closes my door and walks around the back of the car to get to his seat. “Where are we going?”

He starts up the car. “I’m going to cook for you. We’re going to talk, and then I’m going to take you home, kiss you goodnight, and hope you want to see me again.”

I blink at him. “Like a proper date?”

“Exactly.”

It isn’t a long drive back to the house I miss. “You’re still all living here?”

I’m not sure why I thought he would have moved now that he’s no longer Dexter Pieter.

He parks up outside. “For now. It’s a rental. We haven’t had a home in a long time.”

He opens my door for me.

“Are you going to keep it?”

He studies me closely. “Do you want us to keep it?”

My eyes widen. “It’s my decision?”

“It has always been your decision.” He walks me into the house, his jacket slung over my shoulders.

It’s almost a repeat of the first time he brought me here, except now I’m not weak and shaky in a hospital gown and bare feet. I’m in an elegant dress, and he’s holding my hand.

I halt in the entryway, eyes wide.

There are candles everywhere .

On the floors, stairs, in the kitchen, on the kitchen island, and even on a table set for two beside the open double doors that lead to the lush, rainforest-style garden.

“How did I do?” Vincent asks with an uncharacteristic hesitation.

I snap my gaping mouth shut and turn to look at him. “You did this for me?”

“The idea was mine. Levi and Xavier got it done while I went to pick you up.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss on my knuckles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve just been Vincent. I’m out of my element here,” he admits with a wry smile.

Candles flicker, and I absorb the romantic ambiance they create. "I love it," I whisper, my heart filling with love.

“How about a virgin Mojito while I make us dinner?”

“Sounds great. Where are Levi and Xavier?” I ask after I’ve taken a seat, and he’s mixing us a drink.

The house is quiet, and I’d think that if they were home, they would have come and said hello.

“Planning.”

“For?”

“You.” Finished shaking the cocktails, he walks over with two glasses, handing me one before he takes a seat across from me.

I take a small sip and widen my eyes at the sharp-sweet taste. “Yum.” I set my glass down. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I wasn’t honest with myself or you before. Xavier saw it, but I didn’t.”

“Weren’t honest about what?”

“About what you mean to me—and us. I kept telling myself you were only a responsibility, but I was lying to myself.”

My fingers tighten around my glass. “And what do I mean to you?”

“The world, Della Jackson. You mean the world to me.”

“Until a beautiful omega comes along one day and you fall head over heels in love with her?” I hold my breath as I wait for his response.

Like most girls, I grew up hearing stories about epic love affairs between alphas and omegas. There were no stories where betas captured the heart of a handsome alpha, let alone three of them.

He shakes his head. “Just you.”

“And if the omega smells tasty?”

He nudges a flickering candle between us to the side and leans in closer. “I’ll turn around and walk in the other direction.”

I lick my lips. “But if she smells like the best thing ever?”

“I’ll walk faster.” He touches his lips to mine, tasting my smile.

“You have an answer for everything, huh?”

“Della?” he asks, suddenly serious.

“Hmm-mmm?” I take another sip of my delicious cocktail.

“This world makes alphas and omegas the priority.”

I put my glass down to focus on him. “Because they are.”

“No. We’re not.” He studies me silently for several seconds. “What I had with Aly was something I’ve never wanted to recreate. None of us have.”

“You’d need an omega for that,” I quip, though I’m not laughing inside. I’m bracing myself for pain.

He doesn’t even crack a smile.

He takes my right hand from the table and raises it to kiss my knuckles.

“Losing something doesn’t mean the end of everything.

It can be the start of something new. Something so rare and incredible that you never want to let that thing go.

” He smiles. “How about I cook something special for the woman I love?”

My smile is a thousand watts, and I have a lump in my throat. “I’d like that.”

He cooks for us, making duck in orange sauce with fries and salads. He’s a pro in the kitchen, whipping up the meal as we talk about our past, families, and dreams. We laugh more than I thought Vincent could laugh. And I sip my cocktail in a candlelit room.

The meal is as delicious as it smells, and with each bite, I discover more about Vincent than I knew before. Things he loves. Things that scare him.

Hours later, I’m not sure I want to go back to my apartment when he tucks his coat around my shoulder and drives me home.

He walks me to my door, holds out his hand for my key, and unlocks it for me.

I watch him subtly as he surveys my apartment. It’s small, just a basic one-bedroom apartment with an open-plan living area, but it suits me fine.

“I should let you go to bed. It’s late.” He presses a chaste kiss on my lips.

He’s right. I should go to bed. I’m working tomorrow morning, and it’s just gone ten.

“Or you could stay?”

He groans, one hand flexing on my lower back and the other clasping my hip. “I am trying to be a gentleman, Miss Jackson.”

“You growl it,” I quietly admit, resting my palms flat on his chest, his scent spinning around me. Tart raspberries and rich, dark chocolate. I will never get over how good this man smells to me.

He cocks his head, curious, as his hand tightens on my hip, tucking me closer to the warmth of his body.

“My name. You growl it. That’s why I like it more than I should.” Rising to my tiptoes, I lean in, nuzzling his throat, then kissing him.

Releasing a quiet groan I feel rumble against my breasts, he takes a deliberate step back and removes his hands from my body.

Instantly, I feel bereft.

“I should go. I want to do this properly.”

But the hunger in his gaze tells me he wants to stay.

“Okay,” I agree, slipping his coat off my shoulders and handing it back to him. “Thanks for dinner.”

Vincent watches me, eyes slightly creased, suspicious of my easy agreement.

He’s probably thinking about me ditching them so I could sneak into Haven Academy. He suspects I’m up to something, and he’s right to be suspicious.

I hold my breath as he presses the softest, briefest kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Goodnight, Miss Jackson.”

I smile. “Goodnight, Vincent.”

And as he walks away from my open door, I step inside, trying not to feel too ashamed of the scars on my back as I grip the straps of my dress and nudge them down. I don’t know if there will ever be a day when I stop being ashamed, but I’m more than the scars on my back.

His footsteps stop.

“Your door is wide open,” Vincent calls, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Is it?” My dress stops at my hips, and I push it down so it pools on the floor. “How careless of me.”

I turn around.

Vincent stands in the middle of the hallway, his chest heaving. His hands are clenched tightly, pressed against his thighs. His eyes burn as he looks at me.

I’m in a black lace thong, a strapless bra, and the sandals I wore to dinner. Nothing else.

Somewhere, a door creaks, and he rips his gaze from my body to frown in the direction it came from. “Close the door, Della,” he says, his voice hoarse.

I step out of my heels and turn to walk farther into my apartment. Then I peer over my shoulder, catching his eyes fixed on my ass. “You’d better close the door unless you want someone to see me.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, Della,” he whispers, breathing harder.

“Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

And I walk toward my bedroom, leaving my front door open, with my shoes on the floor next to my discarded dress.