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Chapter Thirty-Three

Lilianna

W e made it back to the car without being spotted by the paparazzi.

Julian kept his arm around me the entire way, his body positioned to shield me from potential cameras.

Nicolaus had the engine running, and within moments we were pulling away from the café, leaving the photographers scrambling to figure out where we'd gone.

"I'm sorry about that," Julian said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "We should have been more careful."

I sat between him and Miles in the back seat, my hands still trembling slightly. "Will they... will they know who I am?"

"Not from today," Nicolaus answered from the driver's seat, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror. "They didn't get a clear shot of your face."

"But they know we were with an omega," Christopher added, turning slightly in the passenger seat to look at me. "And that's going to fuel speculation. We had something drafted for this when and …if it happened.”

"What kind of statement?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.

Julian's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my trembling ones. "A basic announcement that we're courting someone, but keeping her identity private for her safety and comfort. Nothing more detailed than that."

My stomach churned at the thought of being discussed in tabloids and gossip columns. "What if they dig deeper? What if they find out about my parents, about the suppressants, about—"

"They won't," Nicolaus interrupted firmly, his blue eyes catching mine in the mirror again. "We have excellent security teams and legal resources. Your privacy is protected."

Miles shifted beside me, his warmth a comfort against my side. "The statement will actually help deflect attention. If they think we're being open about courting someone, they're less likely to dig for scandal."

Miles’s words made sense—logical and measured, like always—but they didn’t untangle the knot sitting tight and coiled in my chest.

I nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

“You didn’t sign up for this,” Julian said quietly, thumb brushing over my knuckles. “And we won’t force you to stay in the spotlight if it gets worse. We can keep things quiet. Discreet.”

“But I’m not ashamed,” I said before I could second-guess it.

All of them turned slightly toward me. I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken aloud.

My voice shook a little, but I pressed on.

“I’m not ashamed of being with you. Of being courted.

I’m just…scared. That’s all. I have dealt with the Paparazzi before, but not like that… ”

Christopher’s voice was steady and low. “That’s a normal reaction. Fear means you understand what’s at stake. But so do we and we’re not taking this lightly.”

“And we don’t expect you to have all the answers right now,” Miles added gently. “You’re allowed to feel scared. But you’re not alone in this.”

The car fell quiet for a beat, the soft hum of tires on asphalt filling the space. I let my head rest lightly on Miles’s shoulder, my hand still laced with Julian’s. Safety—real, tangible safety—wrapped around me like a warm shawl, stitched together by strong hands and steady voices.

Christopher cleared his throat. “We’ll head back to the house for now. Once things settle, we can go through the photos they got from the bookstore and café and decide what needs to be addressed.”

“You’re not expected to do any of that,” Julian said quickly. “We’ll handle it.”

“No,” I said softly. “I want to be included. Maybe not in every decision, but... I want to be part of this. It’s my life too.”

That got me a rare smile from Nicolaus in the mirror, small but sincere. "Good," he said simply. "That's exactly what we hoped you'd say."

By the time we pulled into the driveway, some of my anxiety had settled into determination.

The shopping trip had been perfect until those final moments, and I refused to let paparazzi steal the joy I'd found in choosing my own clothes, ordering my own food, and openly claiming my place with these four men.

"I need to call my publicist," Julian said as we gathered the shopping bags from the car. "Get ahead of this before the speculation gets out of hand."

"And I should reach out to our security team," Nicolaus added, his analytical mind already working through contingencies. "Make sure they're aware of the increased attention."

Christopher held the front door open for us, his gray eyes still carrying traces of the protective intensity I'd seen at the café. "Would you like to rest for a bit?" he asked, studying my face with concern. "Today was a lot, even before the photographers."

I considered his offer, but the thought of being alone with my racing thoughts didn't appeal to me. "Actually, could we all stay together for a while? Maybe in the living room?"

"Of course," Christopher said, already heading toward the kitchen. "I'll make tea, or coffee, or maybe something stronger, if you prefer."

"Tea sounds perfect," I replied, grateful for his understanding.

Miles disappeared briefly and returned with a soft throw blanket, draping it around my shoulders as I settled onto the couch. The simple gesture of care made my throat tighten with emotion.

"I'll be right back," Julian said, stepping into the hallway with his phone already pressed to his ear. I could hear the low murmur of his voice as he spoke to his publicist, his tone controlled but urgent.

Nicolaus sat across from me, his tablet in hand but his attention focused on my face. "How are you really feeling, Lilianna?" he asked, his perceptive gaze missing nothing.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, considering his question.

"Overwhelmed," I admitted. "But not in the way you might think.

It's not just the paparazzi—it's everything.

Shopping for clothes I actually like, eating food I chose myself, being out with all of you openly.

.." I paused, searching for the right words.

"It's like I've been holding my breath for years, and suddenly I'm allowed to breathe," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The paparazzi scared me, but they also made everything feel.

.. real. Like this isn't just a dream I'm going to wake up from. "

Miles settled beside me on the couch, close enough that I could feel his warmth through the blanket. "It's not a dream," he said softly, his green eyes holding mine with quiet intensity. "You're here, with us, and that's not changing."

Christopher returned with a tea service, the familiar ritual of preparing chamomile with honey giving my hands something to do while my mind processed the day's events. "You know," he said, settling into his usual chair, "I've been thinking about what you said at the café. About being ours."

My heart fluttered at the reminder of my bold question. "I meant it," I said softly, looking down at my tea. "I know it's fast, and maybe I shouldn't feel this certain yet, but I do."

Julian returned from his call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he joined us.

His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.

"It's handled," he said, accepting the cup Christopher offered him.

"The statement will go out this evening, acknowledging that we're courting someone but requesting privacy. "

"Will that be enough?" I asked, my fingers tracing the rim of my teacup.

Julian's eyes met mine, warm despite his professional demeanor. "For now. It gives us control of the narrative without exposing you to unnecessary scrutiny."

"I don't want to hide," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice.

Julian smiled at my words, “We don’t want you to hide either. I do know I’ll be getting a call from our social media experts…they apparently want to make sure things are taken care of on their end too.”

As if on cue, Julian's phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "Speak of the devil. It's Mara from our social media team."

He stepped away to take the call, his voice a low murmur in the background. I sipped my tea, finding comfort in its familiar warmth while Miles's presence beside me steadied my nerves.

"What does a social media team actually do?" I asked, realizing how little I knew about their public lives.

"They manage our public image," Nicolaus explained, setting his tablet aside. "Monitor mentions, handle interview requests, and coordinate with charities we support."

Christopher added, "They also run interference when things get... intense. Like today."

Julian returned, glancing at us as he came and sat down, “She says she wants to have a talk tomorrow on how to handle some new social posts. She thinks adding posts about the courting and some shots of Lilianna without showing her face would help a lot.”

I blinked, surprised. "Shots of me? But not my face?"

"It's a common approach," Julian explained, settling back beside me. "Partial images—your hand in mine, the back of your head as we walk through the garden, a silhouette by the window. It creates a narrative we control while protecting your privacy."

"The public loves a romance," Christopher added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If we give them just enough to satisfy their curiosity, they're less likely to hunt for more invasive content."

I considered this, turning my teacup slowly between my palms. The idea of being photographed, even partially, still made my stomach flutter with nerves. But there was something appealing about sharing this part of my life on my own terms.

"Would I... get to see the photos before they're posted?" I asked, apprehensive of what kind of posts would need to be made.

"Of course," Julian said immediately. "Nothing would be shared without your approval."