Lola & the Millionaires: Part One

by Kathryn Moon

  Relationships were already a complicated addition to my life, and getting involved with someone in a pack was the worst kind of idea, wasn’t it?

  “Hey. Don’t stress about anything but the job, okay?” Leo said.

  I nodded and found him bending down to me. I arched to meet him in the kiss without thinking, a soft gasp on my lips. Had I forgotten how easy it was to kiss Leo in the past week? Apparently, because I found myself leaning in and opening to him, the restless worry of the morning evaporating with every pass of his lips over mine.

  “Maybe I should’ve started the morning like this,” he whispered as I melted into his chest.

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “Sorry I was off while we had time together.”

  “Forgiven. Sorry I added a bit of worry to your plate,” he answered.

  I smiled and stared up at him. The city was blue around him, dawn only just making a commitment to brighten the day. I took a greedy pass of my hand over his chest and wondered how hard it would be to steal his sweater. I was pretty sure it was cashmere and it felt like actual heaven on my skin.

  “Rake’s gonna try and talk you into going to about fifty after parties with him,” Leo warned. He raised an eyebrow, “You’re welcome to claim a date with me to get out of them, but for the sake of realism, I would advise actually having the date with me.”

  “Ahh to keep up the illusion,” I said, and Leo’s grin grew at the same time as mine. “Noted.”

  He snatched another, rougher kiss from my lips before backing away. “Break a leg, just not Rake’s. He’s a terrible patient.”

  I bit my lip as I waited in the short line to get inside, giving my name and showing my I.D. My stomach was flipping, and it wasn’t just nerves about the first day of fashion week. Life was turning into kind of a rollercoaster. I’d woken up, sweaty and shaking from my nightmare, only to rocket quickly between comfort and safety with Leo to instant insecurity, and then back to feeling happy and giddy.

  Granted, I’d spent the last year in a massive extended low point. I was generally out of practice with dealing with fluctuating emotions.

  “Lola!”

  Rake was already here, shirtless and in low slung sweatpants, standing with a group of models. I rushed over to him, and he stepped out of their circle.

  “Sorry, you’re not late or anything. I’m just excited to see you. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maureen, she’s doing the makeup on this show and a few others I’m in this week. She’ll give you some resistance to start with, but when she sees you know what you’re doing, you’ll be golden with her. She hated Courtney anyway.”

  My eyes were on Rake’s shoulders as he led the way through the narrow curtained-off backstage of the tent. He had a tattoo on the back of his shoulders, a flower digging through the muscle of his back, thorns piercing the skin and petals dropping down his right side. The blooms looked almost like a rose but with rounder petals, and I wanted to reach out and trace them with my fingers.

  Rake was still talking, mostly pointing people out and their significance. I noted his dresser, Diane, an older black woman with a warm smile and a beautiful pile of box braids like a crown on her head, as well as our two massive beta security guards that followed at a comfortable distance. Everything else I let filter through. Rake was chatty, and I wasn’t sure if it was caffeine, nerves, or just him naturally, but he didn’t seem to mind my quiet, so I sipped my coffee and followed him through the crowd.

  “Rake the rake!”

  “Maureen, my dream,” Rake cooed back to the petite round woman with the bottle red hair and the oversized black square glasses.

  “You’re the new Courtney?”

  “I’m the Lola,” I said, and Maureen smiled, the gap in her teeth winking at me.

  “I want dark thick brows, make his beard look as bushy as you can, and everything else keep it good and washed out. Ashy even, if you can get it on this golden boy. You brought your own kit? Good, use it if you need it. They give us products, but I won’t tell the marketing team if you need to fudge a bit. There’s reference up on the board there,” Maureen said, pointing to a work board that had model’s pictures pinned above their looks, as well as a few inspirational photos to match the fairly old Slovak looking line of menswear. “We’re not in a rush, and if he’s ready too soon he’ll just smudge himself when all the girls try to cuddle up to him. Keep an eye on the time, and use your best judgment.”

  “Got it,” I said, with one simple nod.

  Maureen hummed and narrowed her eyes at me through bottle thick glasses. “We’ll see.”

  “You’ll love her, Maureen, just wait,” Rake said as the makeup artist waddled away.

  “That was Maureen Weiss,” I said, watching her leave. “She was like the definition of a runway look while I was growing up.”

  “I know,” Rake cooed, brushing shoulders with me briefly. “She’s great. Less up in the ego of the world than a lot of names as big as hers.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he laughed. “Okay, yes, I am a little up in the ego. Come on. Let’s grab a decent corner spot and chill before it gets really crazy in here.”

  “Ohmigod, Raaaaayke, I’ve missed you.”

  “Rake! Finally, I’ve been texting you forever.”

  “How’s the fam, how’s Cy?”

  “How’s your bae, Caleb?”

  “How’s the delicious Matthieu?”

  Rake’s eyes slid to mine as I finished powdering his face and got ready to define his eyebrows and beard. He didn’t move a single muscle, but I could see it in his stare. See what I mean? My lips twitched.

  One after another, assistants, models, and maybe even lighting directors—but all betas—stopped by the booth where I was prepping Rake. Each of them gushed their greeting to him, managing one to two cursory questions about him before turning the inquisition onto the subject of his alphas.

  “If anyone acted like that with Baby, I’m pretty sure she’d stab them in the tit,” I said as another hopeful left us to our work.

  “Baby?”

  “My best friend. She’s an omega,” I said.

  “Oh! Baby…hmm, that seems like the kind of name I’d remember. What pack is she with?” Rake asked, pouting as he racked his brain. Because usually the packs that found omegas were full of significant alphas.

  I tapped his forehead gently to remind him to smooth it out and started on his eyebrow. “Howler. I doubt you know them, they’re a motorcycle crew in Old Downtown.”

  I pulled my brush quickly away as Rake’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry, you’re best friends with an omega in a biker pack, and you didn’t tell me? That’s so fucking cool! How hot are those alphas? I bet they’re like, just the right amount of feral, aren’t they? God, imagine their…” Rake trailed off at the sight of my face.

  “I haven’t really spent any time around them,” I said. Just the one night when Buzz and Indy had dragged me to the Howlers’ bar and Baby and I had sat on opposite sides of a table, pinned between men with their hands holding us still. It might not have been the Howlers’ fault, but I hadn’t gotten the best first impression of the growling and rugged pack of bikers.

  “How long has she been with them?”

  “A year.”

  Rake winced and his face went blank, letting me get back to work. “Your best friend’s been with a pack for a year, and you haven’t spent any time around her alphas? Sorry, I know that…I guess I just thought maybe it was better for you around alphas you knew.”

  I worked in silence, finishing both eyebrows and deciding my approach on his beard. He must’ve let it grow out for this show, it was nice and thick on its own. But I could fluff it up and make sure his skin underneath would keep the shadow too. In the back of my head, Rake’s question about my tolerance of alphas circled. I was managing to be around Cyrus pretty well, although he was rarely like what I expected from an alpha.

  “Bikers are kind of a sore subject for me too, I think,” I admitted softly.

  Rake blinke
d. I wondered if Maureen would be pissed if I used a little mascara on those dense eyelashes of his.

  “How come no one ever asks about your other alpha?” I asked.

  “Wes? I know, right?” Rakim answered. “I mean, I think it’s a bit that he aims more to blend into the background. I bet most people don’t know he’s part of our pack. And the ones who do probably just think he’s my guard dog. But Wes owns his own personal security company, and he and Matthieu trade up old classic cars for fun.”

  “You think it’s about the money for them?” I asked, nodding my head to the swarming activity behind us, thinking of all the men and women who’d tried to claim Rake’s attention.

  “Some. Or just about how likely they are to get their photograph printed somewhere. Or maybe it’s just about…”

  “Alphas,” I supplied when he wouldn’t.

  Rake shrugged. “Some people chase them. Not something you think about, I guess.”

  “Are you assuming I’m naturally terrified of alphas? I wasn’t born scared, Rake. I used to chase them,” I answered. Rake’s slack shock was in the corner of my eye as I drew a sharp line along the edge of his beard for the makeup. “And then one caught me, and I learned my lesson,” I said.

  Rake gasped softly, and I turned my focus to the outline of his lips, forcing him to hold still and not speak, leaving my confession in the empty quiet between us.

  Nine

  Lola

  Rake was one of the season’s busiest models, and some of his bookings were at clubs or hotels around the city. It wasn’t the first time I’d done a makeup look in a cab—I’d pinned Baby down more than once when she showed up under-dressed for a night out—but it was definitely the craziest. Three days in, and I was getting used to carrying around wisps of Rake’s omega perfume. It was clinging to my hair, it coated my palms, and he was kind of touchy so there were traces of it around my waist and shoulders. I’d been edgy and anxious about it at first, but none of the people with us backstage seemed to notice or care. Rake wasn’t the only omega around, and I was mostly surrounded by betas who couldn’t have cared less if he was.

  “God, Lola, this is incredible,” Rake said, turning his head side to side to admire the golden laced look I’d just finished up for his ritzy studio show. He was cloaked in metallic jacquards, layer after layer until it made his shoulders hang a little heavier, but he looked regal and almost godlike.

  “I was worried this one was out of my depth, actually,” I admitted, brushing a little excess gold dust out of his dark hair.

  Rake stood from his seat, almost chest to chest with me, and I swallowed as I remembered that he was just tall enough to hover his face over mine. The taste of chocolate truffles clung to my tongue as we shared breath.

  “Pretty sure nothing is. You’re a goddess,” he said, his hand reaching out of the deep sleeve to cup my throat. The warm golden rings on his fingers stung against my skin as his thumb stroked briefly along my jaw, my lips parted on a soft gasp.

  “Models in line please!” the stage manager called.

  “Gonna talk you into going out with me tonight,” Rake said, winking briefly with glittering feathered lashes, before leaving me at the mirror as he left to stand and wait for his cue.

  I hadn’t called in my date with Leo yet, mostly because I’d been so exhausted at the end of every day, it was easy to make firm cases to Rake for not going out. But I didn’t want to use Leo as my excuse to avoid spending time with one of his packmates, and David had taken me to a couple of fashion parties a few years ago when I was fresh out of college and begged him to share his cool Uptown world with me. Maybe it was time for me to test the world out a little. Rake didn’t seem like he’d leave me to the wolves at a party, and I was sick of staring at the still-packed boxes in my apartment.

  I grabbed up the digital camera Designate had lent me for the week and went up to the line of models, taking a few close shots and clips the magazine could use. Rake pursed his gleaming lips at me for one, and then turned and faced the curtain, his face sharpening into a predatory intensity he’d wear down the brief runway.

  The close space near the curtain was crowded, omega perfumes mixing with some of the beta model’s manufactured fragrances until it all blended together into a kind of white noise for the senses.

  “Kill it,” I offered the group in a whisper, catching smiles from a couple of the other models who’d seen plenty of me at shows in the past few days.

  I turned and headed back to the mirrors to clean up my station and pack up. Halfway there, my steps slowed. There was a woman sitting in Rake’s chair, tall with a silver bob and pale eyes. She picked up one of my brushes and brought the soft end to her nose, sniffing lightly, before those eerie eyes flicked over and locked on me. Nude pink lips stretched in a predatory smile, and my throat tightened.

  I couldn’t smell her from here, but I could guess. She was an alpha. Rake’s soft touch from a moment ago suddenly seemed to burn on the skin of my jaw, and I fought the urge to run from the room. She could follow if she really wanted to.

  Maybe she was only a friend of Rake’s, or maybe she was someone in charge of the show. I reminded myself that I had a good working relationship with Cyrus, who was also an alpha, and forced myself forward. All I had to do was pack up my gear, and then I would find myself somewhere quiet and removed to wait for Rake.

  “Lola, isn’t it?” she greeted as I reached the station.

  I nodded when my tongue refused to budge in my closed mouth.

  The alpha stretched out a thin and elegant hand. She was dressed in a low cut black jumpsuit, her skin perfectly even and smooth, with just the slightest hint of wrinkles around her eyes. She could’ve been anywhere from her late thirties to fifties, wealth tended to warp age from what I’d seen recently, and that steel-gray hair was a little too perfect to be natural.

  “Odette,” she said. “I own the building.”

  I didn’t really want to take her hand, but there wasn’t any reason not to. I held my breath as I got the first whiff of her alpha scent, heavy jasmine, cloying in my lungs.

  “It’s a beautiful space,” I said, shaking her hand and pulling away quickly as one of her sharply manicured nails scratched gently at my wrist.

  Odette smiled thinly at the compliment, her eyes tracing me from head to toe. “Are you one of Rake’s collection? Or…let me guess, Cyrus’ flavor of the month?”

  “I’m sorry?” I heard her perfectly, but the words were so unexpected, I didn’t know how to process them.

  Her smile flattened to a patronizing sympathy. “Oh, Lola. That pack runs through their side pieces like they’re upgrading their smartphone model.” She stood, and I was so stunned at the implication, I didn’t move out of her reach. Jasmine scratched down my arm, and her fingers took a tight but not painful grip around my wrist, nails resting their dagger tips over my pulse. “A beta as sweet as you deserves to be cherished, don’t you think?”

  I flinched at the sound of my designation on her tongue and tried to back away.

  “Whatever attention they’re spoiling you with will dry up before long, darling,” Odette murmured, head bending and crowding into my personal space.

  “Please let go,” I said, my whisper breathless as I tugged on my arm.

  Odette’s cheek grazed against mine, and I gasped at the blatant scent-marking, body frozen. “They don’t hand out bites to their toys,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Odette.”

  I jumped at the soft bark and stumbled backward as Odette’s grasp on my wrist vanished. My back hit a firm chest, and two hands settled on my shoulders. A scorching wave of subtle sweetness and dense warmth like wool velvet washed over me, and I whimpered at the familiar alpha scent.

  “Matthieu,” Odette said, eyes wide. Her lips parted and a tinkling laugh escaped. “You have to be kidding me. She’s not your type at all, is she?”

  I swallowed my panic and held it tight in my chest. Matthieu’s touch on my shoulders was
soft and he’d stepped back an inch. If I wanted to run, he wouldn’t stop me, but I wasn’t stupid. The chase would be a temptation to Odette and right now, between the two of them, I knew which alpha was the lesser evil.

  “You’ve always had boundary issues, Odette, but scent-marking like that?” Matthieu’s voice was beautiful and easy, and I’d never smelled an alpha scent like his before. There was something coaxing about it as it surrounded me, an enormous armchair inviting me to sink in and dream the day away. I wavered, and this time when my back hit his chest, neither of us moved.

  “Well naturally, if I’d thought she had any kind of bond—”

  “I need to pack up,” I murmured, a little dizzy between the two opposing alphas.

  “Of course,” Matthieu answered, moving around my side and putting himself between me and Odette, forcing her to back away. “Enough toying. Leave her be,” he added to the other alpha, a growl tucked away in the words.

  I put my things away in their cases on autopilot, leaving all the wipes and quick washes Rake would need to clean up.

  “Moved on from Carolyn at last, Matthieu?” Odette called.

  Matthieu didn’t answer her, and I heard the soft click of heels retreating as I hyper-focused on tucking my brushes into their holders. My hands were shaking, and he backed away until I could barely see him in my periphery.

  “Would you like me to take you to get some fresh air?” he asked softly.

  I jerked my head in an uneven nod and looked up to the mirror. He was standing behind me, eyes watching the room. He looked casual for the event in a v-neck sweater and black slacks, and I wondered if he’d come to be a spectator, or only to meet up with Rake. I stood up straighter, and his eyes flicked to meet mine in the mirror. Matthieu seemed especially unreadable to me, his gaze was warm and interested, but it seemed more watchful or concerned than the appetite Odette had shown.

  I turned to face him and his head ducked, tipping in a gesture for me to follow him. We went in the opposite direction as Odette, passing a hospitality table where Matthieu grabbed two bottles of water. He led and I followed out of the studio’s backdoor and down a long, mirrored hallway. It occurred to me that I didn’t know the building and couldn’t really know where Matthieu was taking me, but just as my wariness started to creep back in, we reached our destination. Matthieu opened a tall glass door out onto a screened-in balcony, and I sighed as the first gust of sharp, chilly air hit my face.