Page 45 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus (The Exchange)

He grins at my boss as his dimples pop. He's got a few days' worth of stubble on his unbelievably handsome face…

He's freaking gorgeous, and packmates with Viktor.

He absolutely cannot see me crying over his dickhead friend.

I shut the door quickly, spinning around to check my reflection.

I grab some paper towels, cursing the fact I don't have my makeup. I do everything I can to get rid of the streaks of mascara, but it really doesn't seem to help.

All I succeed in doing is cleaning off the rest of my foundation. My hands fall to the counter as I stare at the floor. Now definitely isn't the time, but I can't help myself.

My reflection looks as beautiful as ever, but I almost wish it didn't. I wish the outside reflected the inside so everyone would know how awful I feel. Sure, I've got resting bitch face with the best of them, but that doesn't detract from the overall package.

The tough facade is a product of growing up with a man like my father. You've got to exude cold, calculating confidence or the predators descend.

If I was truly as soulless as my father then I wouldn't be hesitating right now.

I heard Luke come in while I was finishing my makeup.

My mom would be mortified if she could see me now. How my tender, sweet mother ended up with a bastard like my father, I'll never understand.

I do know I don't have a choice in what I do next, and it would make my mom very sad to know that.

She always told me to have integrity even if those around you don't… but she's dead.

If I want to survive life on my father's chess board then I can't be like her.

I have to be as ruthless as he is until I gain my freedom.

I let the towel gape enough that the tops of my breasts are visible. I pull open the door and head out into the suite. I stop dead in my tracks as my mouth falls open. I take a hesitant step back.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, wrapping my arm around the top of my towel. "And why are you in my room?"

That is absolutely not Luke. Luke was my security yesterday, and he's my in with getting close to the owners. I don't know who this guy is, but he's not supposed to be in my room.

"Viktor Nikolov," the massive, grumpy looking asshole says, crossing his thick forearms over his chest.

That's a Russian name if I've ever heard one.

He's huge, and in no way does he seem pleased to be in my vicinity.

Big surprise.

Not many people are.

His blondish-brown beard is long and fluffy. The mustache kinda makes him look like a cartoon villain. His pale blue eyes are currently narrowed at me in suspicion, like I'm the one who did something wrong.

"Why are you in my room?" I snap again.

"My boss assigned me to you," he says, tossing himself down onto the couch. "I'm sure it'll end up being the highlight of my week."

I frown. Wow, way to be a total asshole.

"You plan to get dressed, or are we continuing this conversation with your tits hanging out?" he asks, his gaze raking from my head to my toes.

My eyes widen. He quirks a bushy eyebrow.

"You're a dick," I grumble, pulling my towel higher on my chest.

Unfortunately, I feel a cool breeze on the tops of my thighs. This place needs better-quality towels, or at the very least bigger ones. I'm practically hiding behind a hand towel.

"I've definitely got one," he assures me. "Put some fucking clothes on!" The last part comes out as a bark.

I hate being barked at by alpha assholes. A shiver rolls down my spine. I've spent my entire life being commanded by my father and his men.

My shoulders pull back.

I drop the towel.

Yes, barking is an effective way to force an omega to comply. But I've learned over the years that there's nearly always a way to twist the order if you're determined enough.

I spin, heading for my suitcase, and smile to myself when he releases a hiss. I make sure to give him a nice view of my bare ass as I toss open the bag.

"Fucking pain in the ass omegas," he grumbles. "I'll be in the hall. Don't take forever or I'll be back."

I laugh, bending over and grabbing a bra and panties.

"I guess she couldn't get dressed in the bathroom like a normal human being."

"It's my suite," I remind him, giving my hips a little shake.

The door slams loudly behind him. I'll consider that one in the win column.

I smile. He's easy to rile up. This should be fun.

I need to figure out why Luke is no longer my security. I only spent a few hours with him before some big emergency went down. They needed all available hands on deck, so they put the majority of us in a mixer with a few security personnel to watch the entire room.

I thought Luke would be my personal guard for my entire stay.

That's the way they made it seem.

This isn't good at all.

Do they already suspect something? I know Luke is close to the owners. It was in the packet Byron Frasier made me memorize before coming to this awful fucking place.

I slide my arms into my bra and clip the front closure before bending down and pulling on my thong.

My anxiety is high. I don't even know which route to take. Pack Frasier has been clear that they want this location. I can either get in good with the owners and try to seduce them into helping me through my heat, or I can make enough trouble Connor Hastings decides to flat-out sell.

The upside to being bonded is undeniable.

My father would lose the ability to force me to do his bidding if I had a pack to protect me. The thought of being forced to pick life partners based on my father's command turns my stomach.

On the flip side, anyone is better than who he'd choose for me. I'll never let myself be Dimitri's toy, which is exactly what will happen if I fail.

My nerves are shot. I'm so torn, I don't know what to do. The trapped feeling gets worse the longer I think about it.

I grab the black baby doll dress and pull it on. My arm stretches back, but no matter how hard I try I can't zip it.

My head falls back. I stare at the ceiling, blowing out a heavy breath.

I'll have to ask the asshole for help. I head to the door, tossing it open, and frown at the giant.

I'm not short by any means. I'm five-foot-eight without shoes on. This guy's got at least seven or eight inches in height on me. His strong shoulders flex under his long-sleeve t-shirt as he shoots me an unimpressed frown.

I twirl around, letting the bottom of my puffy dress flare out. From the cool breeze on the top of my ass, I'm betting my thong is showing. I glance over my shoulder at him.

"Would you mind?" I ask, fluttering my lashes. "I can't seem to reach the zipper."

"You're pure fucking trouble," the grouchy alpha grumbles. His callused hand slides over my neck as he pulls my hair to the side. His thumb brushes over the scar on my back as his other hand slides my zipper up. "What happened here?"

Of course he has to ask. Everyone who sees it does. It's still red and angry even though it's over three years old.

"Thank you," I say, turning around to head back inside. My stomach aches uncomfortably. That scar is a reminder of why I'm here.

I won't be forced back to Dimitri. He's gotten meaner and more volatile over the years. Much like my mother didn't survive my father, my expectations are low that I'd survive Dimitri.

I know good and well that I'm the only person who'll look out for my best interests. So I'll do what I have to in order to be free of Pack Frasier and my own fucking father.

I catch my wince in the mirror as I shake myself out of the memory.

Wolfe laughs at something, and I roll my eyes. Maybe I am just a terrible person. Evie's been nothing but nice to me, and I'm still in here angry and jealous that he's in there smiling and laughing with her.

Life is hard. Being an omega is even more complicated.

Or maybe I'm a rotten human being.