Page 28 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Myrick

I didn’t think Rhett was going to actually let us leave the house.

But whatever Autry did to him in the living room seemed to have calmed him down.

After their…tryst…Rhett spent forty damn minutes lecturing us like we were delinquents.

He told us where we were allowed to go, what we were allowed to do, and what he expected from Oli.

To my surprise, the younger alpha didn’t argue. He nodded, stone-faced, and agreed to everything.

It was a very different reaction compared to how standoffish Oli was the other day.

“Can I get you another glass of champagne, Mr. Anderton?” a fresh-faced beta asks, her high ponytail bouncing with every syllable. She’s all smiles and pastels, like a character out of a boutique dream.

Of course, it’s all an act—this place costs a damn fortune. But I still love it here.

We get a private dressing room with mirrors and plush couches, and endless champagne. And the staff gets a fat commission.

“Yes, please.” I drain my last sip and hand her the flute. “Oli, you want one?” I ask, turning toward the alpha.

He’s by a rack of soft, frilly summer dresses, looking like a soldier dropped into a dollhouse. Surrounded by lace and floral prints, he’s stiff-backed, his arms crossed awkwardly like he's afraid of knocking something over, dressed head to toe in black.

“Champagne?” I offer again, finally catching the alpha’s eye.

He shakes his head. “No, thank you.” Then he returns to standing like an accidental bodyguard in a nursery.

I push off the overstuffed sage-green couch and walk through the private fitting area.

It’s all lush . Creamy walls accented with muted pinks and dusty blues, like something out of a luxury day spa.

Full-length mirrors stretch along one wall, reflecting every glittery accessory and garment back in a dreamy haze of silk and shimmer.

The lighting is soft and forgiving, casting everything in a warm, flattering glow.

Walking across the room, I pause in front of one of the mirrors and tug at my sleeves.

I know a suit might be a little much, but I like looking the part when I’m shopping for expensive clothes.

The dark gray fabric is sharp and tailored, paired with a crisp pale blue shirt that brings out my eyes—Rhett’s words, not mine.

He always says this is one of his favorites.

The sleek black belt pulls everything together, clean and intentional.

“Autry?” I make my way to the omega’s changing room and knock lightly. “How’s it going?”

“I think this one’s too small,” she huffs from behind the door. “It won’t zip over my boobs. ”

“Let me see.” I try to sound helpful and not like I’m looking for an excuse to gawk at her pretty figure.

Slowly, she opens the door a sliver. Then peeks out, eyes a little wide as she checks to see who all is in here. I’ve noticed her doing this all day. She’s kept her head down, hair hiding her face, like she’s terrified of everyone around us.

The poor thing is scared of her own shadow.

“It’s okay,” I encourage her. “The sales girl stepped out. It’s just me, Charlie, and heaps of pastel clothing.” I purposely leave Oli off the list, not wanting to make her flustered after this morning. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

I step close as she opens the door, then turns, showing me the dress half-zipped. The bodice hugs her waist perfectly, but the zipper is halted halfway up her back, puckering under her shoulder blades.

“That’s a shame,” I murmur, my fingers skimming along her waist where the fabric clings. “It fits everywhere else like a dream.” I let my fingers linger a second too long, sliding lightly across the dip of her back. Her skin is so soft.

Autry’s breath catches—and when she turns to face me.

There's a little color in her cheeks, and I don’t think it’s from the snug leather collar protecting her throat.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, biting her lip.

“I think it’s going to be a struggle to find anything that will fit right.

I have a weird body shape, and I should’ve?—”

I cut her off with a look, stepping closer, making her shift her weight. “Stop it,” I tell her gently. “You have a stunning body. The problem is with the dress, not you.”

Her lips part, surprised.

“All clothes are made for the same generic body type,” I continue, voice dropping lower. “And you, sweetheart, are not average.” My eyes flash just a bit, letting her see how much she affects me.

I step back, motioning toward my own lean frame. “I’m five-foot-ten with the muscle tone of a soggy breadstick.”

Autry laughs—actually laughs —and slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle it. “You do not! ”

“I do, ” I say firmly. “It took me thirty-eight years to accept that I will never be anything but a skinny beta with a generous alpha and a bank account that says yes to custom tailoring.” I snap my fingers and point past her, at the dressing room.

“Now take that off and let me fetch someone who actually knows how to sew boobs into a dress.”

Autry’s still giggling as she wraps her arms around my waist in a quick, grateful hug. For a second, I stand there—caught off guard by how good she feels against me, how sweet she smells, how my whole body leans instinctively toward her.

Then I wrap her up, press a kiss to the top of her head, and try not to sigh like a damn fool.

“Thank you,” she whispers before disappearing back into the dressing room.

I still can’t believe she’s here. Years of wanting an omega, of dreaming of one day claiming one, and she’s actually here.

Letting out a contented sigh, I turn and catch Charlie’s wide-eyed stare from across the room.

“You’re thirty-eight? ” he blurts out.

I grin, used to the reaction. “Yup.”

“You look amazing for forty,” he adds with a little snort.

I freeze. “ Excuse me , sir, but I am not forty. Not yet.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Sorry.”

“Where are your clothes?” I ask, plopping back onto the velvet sofa. I sink in, loving the way the plush fabric pushes up all around me. “Did you not see anything you liked?”

Charlie shrugs, looking down at the floor, then at his rolled-up jeans— my jeans, technically. They're cuffed so many times they look like denim donuts around his ankles.

“I’m good.”

“Charlie.” I raise an eyebrow, letting him know I’m not buying that for a second.

“You need clothes. I know most of this stuff is made for omegas, but…” I trail off, not wanting to point out how short Charlie is and that the stuff here will probably fit him better than a regular store for betas.

“They have wonderful clothes here. I’m sure you can find something. ”

Charlie leans against one of the mirrored walls, trying to look casual, but his posture is stiff, his voice quieter. “I just... I don’t know. I can’t really afford this stuff.”

Ah. There it is.

“Hey.” I sit up straighter. “That’s not the point. You’re pack now.” It feels so weird to say that outloud to another beta.

“I know,” he says. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I’m just…” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trying to figure out how to get some of my stuff from my old apartment. It’s up north, but I don’t really have any friends outside of work. And I’m scared to call any of them.”

“Why?” I ask, voice softer now.

He winces. “Because I rigged the bidding. On an omega. Then I helped Rhett skirt the rules and basically shut everyone else out of the auction. So… yeah. I’m not sure my old co-workers would be thrilled to hear from me.”

Oli snorts from across the room, not even trying to hide it.

“Do you think they know what you did?” I ask .

Charlie shrugs, defeated. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. And honestly? I’m too scared to find out.”

I nod, then gesture toward a rack of carefully curated clothes for someone his height and build—dressed-down neutrals, cozy knits, some sporty things with subtle branding. “Then that’s all the more reason to let me spoil you a little. Clothes won’t fix it, but they help.”

Charlie hesitates, then glances toward the changing rooms like he's weighing his pride against practicality. “Thanks,” he says finally. “But I’ll wait.”

My eyes flick toward the mirrored wall, where his reflection shows more vulnerability than he’s letting on. I don’t push it.

Instead, I settle deeper into the pastel couch, letting the champagne bubbles tickle my tongue, and wait for my beautiful, moody omega to emerge again.

“Okay,” Autry steps out of the fitting room, this time in a stunning blue chiffon dress. It hugs her perfectly, showing off the curve of her breasts and making her waist look impossibly tiny.

“You’re perfect,” I say, leaning forward to get a better look at her legs as she does a little twirl. Everything about the omega is perfection. Her long chestnut brown hair, her sweet curves, and her pretty pink lips.

I want so badly to kiss them again.

“I really like it.” She beams, clearly loving the way the fabric flows as she moves. She looks radiant. Like she’s glowing from the inside out.

“We need that one in blue, red, pink, and black,” I say, nodding toward the eager beta assistant. She nods, making her ponytail bounce, then starts tapping rapidly on her tablet.

“Autry?” I turn back to my omega .

She meets my gaze with bright, excited eyes. “Yeah?”

“Charlie’s refusing to try anything on,” I say, not even pretending to be subtle. “All I want is to buy him a few decent outfits, but he’s being stubborn.”

Autry immediately gasps, spinning toward Charlie with a disapproving frown. “Charlie,” she scolds, her voice full of playful offense. “You have to try something on. Even just one outfit.”

I slowly turn to watch him, and it’s worth it. Charlie’s eyes go wide, his jaw drops, and his whole face flushes a deep red.

“Are you serious right now?” he says to me. “You’re telling on me?”

I raise a brow, smirking.