by Kathryn Moon
Successfully made paranoid about my transparent interest in a younger woman well out of my reach, I ate the rest of my dinner with my head down. Wes collected our plates as we finished up, and chairs started to scrape away from the table.
“I made a cheesecake that’s in the fridge whenever anyone feels ready for dessert,” Leo announced. “I think I need a walk around the gardens before I dive in. Lola, want to join me?”
“I’ll help you clear away,” I said to Wes.
Lola stood from the table, hands wringing in front of her. “Actually, I…I was wondering if I could grab a word with Cyrus and Matthieu.”
I was half out of my chair, spare glasses in my hand, my eyes caught wide in surprise. One look at Cyrus, and I knew he was equally caught off guard, as were Leo and Rake.
“Of course,” I said. “Here? Or…”
“Um, private, maybe,” Lola said, voice losing courage with a wobbled note, her shoulder twitching with a shrug. “An office?”
Cyrus and I nodded to one another, and I set the glasses back on the table. “We’ll go to my office,” I said with a nod. Cyrus’ was more of an art studio, and there wasn’t anywhere to sit or speak really. “Or we could use Leo’s, I’m sure,” I said, when I realized Lola might prefer a space that didn’t belong to an alpha.
“Yours is fine,” Lola said.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” Leo asked her.
She shook her head and rolled her shoulders back, fixing a tight lipped smile to her face. “I’ll find you when this is done. Save me a slice of cheesecake.”
The room watched Lola’s back as she headed for the stairs, Cyrus and I following quickly behind her.
Twenty-Three
Lola
I fiddled with the cuffs of my blouse, wishing I’d changed before dinner into something more comfortable. But maybe it was better to be dressed this way, bound up in professional clothing rather than facing Matthieu and Cyrus in leggings and one of Leo’s sweaters.
I entered Matthieu’s office and the room looked different in daylight. Less cozy, maybe, more professional. I’d snuck down a couple more times to listen to his nighttime strumming, although I hadn’t peeked my head in again. Now I hovered in the center of the room, surrounded by the deep, velvety scent of him on every surface. Behind me, Matthieu and Cyrus entered.
“Sit,” Matthieu said gently. I opened my mouth to refuse, and he settled into his own worn-out armchair. “Sit, you’ll make Cyrus anxious.”
Cyrus scoffed lightly, leaning against Matthieu’s giant oak desk with his ankles crossed.
The only seat in the room that wasn’t Matthieu’s footstool was a newer version of the armchair Matthieu sat in, its leather still in high shine. It faced Matthieu and Cyrus with plenty of open space between us, and it smelled more like an armchair than the alpha who owned it, but when I sat I sank deep into the cushions.
“I take it it’s about the magazine if you wanted to see the two of us,” Cyrus said. He wore a smile, but it seemed tense, like the one he wore during meetings with Wendy. “If I’ve made you at all uncomfortable—”
“What? No! God, no,” I said, perching on the edge of the chair. “It’s nothing like that at all.”
Maybe Cyrus had made me uncomfortable in the beginning, but only by being an alpha, nothing he’d done. I felt terrible that he’d even question his own behavior. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.
“It’s about Wendy,” I said.
Matthieu and Cyrus exchanged a glance, guarded and unreadable, and Matthieu sank back into his seat.
“What about Wendy?” Cyrus asked. “She sings your praises. Well, as much as she does anyone’s.”
I swallowed and nodded. “No, I know. She’s…it’s not her directly, but I’ve been…approached,” I said, wincing. “By Zane at first, and then today by Betty as well.”
“Are they harassing you?” Cyrus asked, a slight growl in his tone.
I moaned and reached up, digging my fingers into my roots briefly. “No one is harassing me. This isn’t even about me, honestly. They’re talking about leaving Designate.”
“Who are Zane and Betty?” Matthieu muttered to Cyrus. “Would it matter?”
“They’re in my department, and no, not really,” Cyrus said with a brief grimace. He looked back to me, that smooth dark skin furrowing over his brow. “What does this have to do with Wendy?”
“It’s not just Zane and Betty leaving,” I explained. “It’s Wendy and whoever she successfully taps. From every department of Designate. And today Betty said something about them taking contacts with them?”
Finally, the news registered. Matthieu sat up sharply while Cyrus sagged, shoulders slouching.
“When?” Matthieu asked, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He’d lost his suit jacket before dinner, and his button-down stretched across his chest, a slight glimpse of chest hair in the v of his collar and fabric straining over surprisingly muscular arms.
Jesus, focus you idiot.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. They don’t know. But Betty told me that Wendy wanted to meet with me privately, that she’d get in touch with me through Betty for a dinner.” Matthieu’s hand scrubbed over his jaw and he looked to the floor as Cyrus rolled his neck, eyes on the ceiling—equal but opposite gestures. “I didn’t know how serious Zane was, or I would’ve said something on Monday.”
“You didn’t need to say anything at all,” Matthieu muttered, frowning at me. “You haven’t been with Designate long, and if Wendy starts her own project—I take it that’s where this is headed?” I nodded, and he continued, “If she starts her own and gives you a position, it can only help your résumé. Getting in on the ground of something like that leaves you an entirely vertical path on the board of that magazine.”
I clenched my jaw and stared back at Matthew. “I have three very good reasons not to take Wendy’s offer.”
Cyrus sat up, a soft smile stretching over his lips. “Rake and Leo?”
I shrugged. “My relationship with them and my friendship with this pack, yes. But the most important reason is that I love Designate. I have ever since I was a little girl. Wendy thinks that the magazine can’t change, so she wants to tear it down on her way out,” I said, and Matthieu’s eyes flinched briefly. “But I know Designate’s history. It has changed. Several times, and it can do it again. I don’t think Designate deserves to be carved open to make room for something new to grow. Wendy’s magazine can succeed or fail on its own without leaving scorched earth behind.”
I caught my breath for the first moment since I’d started my speech and found the two men stunned into silence. Warmth flooded my cheeks, and I waited for them to speak. Cyrus was smiling at least. Matthieu fell back into his cushions, palms braced on his thighs.
“Well,” he started, and then failed to finish the thought.
“David told me you loved the magazine, but I definitely wasn’t expecting that level of devotion,” Cyrus said. “So…Matt, what do you think?”
Matthieu reached up a hand and stroked his fingers over the slight scruff of his beard, eyes distant over my head. “When you say change, you mean…”
“More unique digital content, a wider look at the products we market being accessible to the audience we actually have, better diversity in models and media. Also, Designate should really consider opening its content to subjects outside of fashion and beauty. We’re the last hold out, and our audience is ready.”
Cyrus was beaming now, all but laughing. “I told you. She’s editor material.”
Matthieu sighed and collapsed. “Is this what Wendy’s been saying all along?” he asked.
“Some of it, the digital content and adding in politics, yes,” Cyrus said.
“It wouldn’t have to be politics, although I think our audience has a clear leaning. But that’s been done. Designate’s focus could be…society. Discussions about sex and gender that aren’t just, you know, weird tip lists of how t
o take care of your man,” I said, shrugging and ignoring my blush. I had more ideas on that topic after playing around with Rake and his incredible collection of sex toys, but I wasn’t sure I was prepared to share them with Matthieu and Cyrus at this exact moment. “There’s a whole community of non-binary and queer people who would be happy to be targeted in a fashion and beauty magazine like Designate. And that would bring—”
“An additional demographic,” Matthieu said, eyes lighting up.
There, talk numbers and business with the man and he caught on quick.
“Lola, feel free to say no, but…how would you feel about a little corporate espionage?” Cyrus asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
My eyes widened. “I… What do you mean?”
Matthieu nodded. “I see, yes. You would take Wendy up on her offer of dinner, at the very least. See what she outlines for you. And if you’re willing to play along with her, you might be able to give us more. More names, more of Wendy’s plan.”
I bit my lip. “Can I think about it? Telling you the truth, I’m comfortable with. Playing a spy game…I’m less sure about.”
“Of course,” Matthieu said, nodding. “I respect your decision either way. Now that we know…” He looked to Cyrus who nodded. “We can do our own snooping around if we need to.”
“Thank you for the heads up, sunshine,” Cyrus said, standing up and crossing to the door. “And for looking out for the magazine. Wanna come down for cheesecake?”
“In just a minute,” I said.
Matthieu was still deep in his chair, eyes out the nearby window and lips turned down in a frown. Cyrus left for the hall, and I waited until his footsteps were quiet.
“Matthieu?”
“Hm?” He blinked, eyes landing on me and widening slightly, surprised to find me still here maybe.
“I have a question. It might be dumb,” I said, wincing.
“Don’t say that. Ask anything, it won’t be dumb.”
The room felt too huge between us, and my question was too personal to share with all the empty inches. I stood up from the chair and Matthieu sat up straighter as I moved to him, settling on the footstool.
“Things with Carolyn…it didn’t have anything to do with what happened on Saturday, did it?” I asked, nearly whispering.
I hadn’t seen Matthieu since I’d broken up the party, sick to my stomach and on the edge of yet another panic attack before Leo got me into the elevator and up to his rooms.
“What? Lola, no.” Matthieu leaned forward, warm calloused fingers catching my hand, folding one of mine between both of his. “No, it was nothing to do with anything that happened at the dinner party. It was a long time in coming.”
“I just wanted to make sure,” I said. “I wanted to apologize but—”
“You had nothing to apologize for,” Matthieu urged, vivid pale eyes on mine. He sighed, head dropping, and I got a good look at the threads of silver that ran through his ash brown hair. “It was probably a mistake to think that either one of us could stay happy long term in a relationship outside of my pack. But it’s done now, and we are… We will both be fine. Sooner than it might be polite to admit.”
His touch was gentle on the back of my hand and his scent was heavy in my nose, coaxing and reassuring at the same time, both powerfully masculine and reassuringly gentle. I waited for the panic to rise, for the edgy nerves to crawl under my skin. I wasn’t peaceful, here with Matthieu. My skin was hot and sensitive, and my heart was racing faster, pounding heavily in my veins. But I knew what those symptoms were from, and it wasn’t discomfort.
Dangerous, I thought.
He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing, and the soft strokes on my skin stopped, Matthieu pulling away slowly.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, a slight rasp in his faint accent.
I nodded and wobbled up on numb legs heading for the door.
Rake hates when betas chase his alphas, I reminded myself. But I didn’t feel like I was chasing Matthieu. I didn’t feel like he was hunting me either. More like I was sliding gently in his direction, waiting for the soft collision.
“So what happens if I’m completely terrible at this?” Baby asked. She didn’t sound worried. She might even have sounded excited, or maybe that was just because she was busy staring at everything around her—the racks of clothes waiting for her to try on, the models running around in their underwear and tank tops from one booth to the next, the dozens of assistants trying to wrangle the room into some semblance of order.
“Not fuckin’ possible, kitten.”
Baby had brought one of her alphas, a giant one with a messy top knot of honey brown hair and a thick beard. He was covered in tattoos, dressed in leather and denim with ass-kicker boots, and he smelled like roses. He stood respectfully distant from me, but I was getting used to his presence the longer he hovered and said adorably supportive things to Baby and Seth.
His name was Bullet, and he wasn’t what I was expecting at all. Maybe Baby was right and I needed to come by the Howlers because Bullet wasn’t gruff—well, his voice was—or overbearing. He was cheerful and endearing and disgustingly devoted to Baby.
“You’re going to be amazing, and I’m going to make sure you look perfect for the shoot,” I said. I smiled at Seth. Bomber. I was going to use their road names now that Bullet had said they preferred them. “You both will look perfect. I really appreciate you coming and helping with this.”
“I always knew I was too pretty to just bartend,” Bomber said, grinning and making Baby giggle.
“Lo, this is the coolest ever. I can’t believe you came up with this plan and they just, like—”
“Listened to me?” I joked. “I know! And for it to be a full shoot and not just a little mini-article. I can’t wait to see the clothes. I think it’s gonna be an avant-garde club look.”
“You hear that, Bomb? Gonna put you in pleather and mesh,” Bullet called.
Bomber made a dismissive ‘pft’ sound, and I decided not to warn him that Bullet might be right.
Bullet had been Baby’s pack’s only concession when it came to doing the shoot, and the magazine had been happy to comply. He was like their security guard and considering Rake and Wes were due to arrive any minute, Bullet was just another bit of scenery. One the other models seemed riveted by, based on their scampering past us every few minutes and giggling.
I finished wiping down Baby and Bomber just as the models let out a chorus of squeals and greetings.
“Lo?” Baby hissed, eyeing the door. “Is that a celebrity?”
I glanced over my shoulder, an unwelcome blush blooming on my cheeks immediately. “Um, kind of. In the fashion world, yes. That’s Rakim Oren. He’s the other omega for the shoot that I’ll be working on. And that’s Wes, one of his packmates. Will that be, umm...” I twisted my lips in a frown and glanced at Bullet.
He shook his head, shrugging easily. “Not an issue, sweetheart,” Bullet said with a smile that I automatically returned. Bullet was so easy going, he reminded me of Cyrus in a somehow totally opposite way.
Rake’s chocolate perfume grew stronger, the flurry of activity from the models settling down as he neared my station. His scent was richer than usual, and we’d spent the night before in one of his nests, Leo and I taking turns wearing Rake out until all three of us were too tired to continue. When I woke, Rake had been missing, and Leo explained he’d probably gone to Cyrus or Caleb in the night rather than wake us again. His heat was due in less than a week and it was already starting to show.
“Hey, Lollipop,” Rake said, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing a brief kiss against my jaw. Baby’s eyes widened as Rake barely nuzzled against me before drawing away in a cloud of chocolate and heady omega.
“Hey, Rake. Hi, Wes,” I said, smiling at the pair of them. Rake’s seat was on the other side of the station I’d set Baby and Bomber up at, and he went to collapse in the chair.
Baby was gawking at me. “I thought yo
u were trying out a new perfume,” she hissed, leaning forward to whisper yell at me. “You’re dating an omega?!”
I shrugged and then since that seemed kind of unfair to me and Rake, I nodded.
“Ohmigod, Lo,” Baby said, voice rising.
“Shit,” Rake said from the other side of the mirrors. He reappeared, eyes a little wider and smile a little less sleepy. “I just realized, you must be Baby! And you two must be some of her sexy bikers.” Rake winked at Bullet. “Lola never tells me enough about you, to be honest.”
“I know the feeling,” Baby said, overemphasizing the words and glaring at me.
“Baby, this is Rake and Wes. You guys this is Baby, Bullet, and Bomber. Baby and I are old friends,” I said, rushing through the introductions.
“Bullet and Bomber?” Wes asked, eyes narrowed.
“They’re just road names. His is purely fashion, but mine I got in the army. Sniper,” Bullet said, holding out his hand to the other alpha.
Wes’ eyebrows jumped and he looked Bullet over, shaking his hand. “I think I might’ve heard of you. You need a job by any chance? I work in personal security.”
“I got one,” Bullet said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Baby. “She’s full time. Plus over time.”
“Watch it,” Baby growled, feigning an alpha snarl with bared teeth. Bullet just blew a kiss back at her and grinned.
“Rake and I met at a photoshoot,” I said.
“And she’s double dating my beta, Leo,” Rake added, grinning at me.
“Shut the fuck up,” Baby said, reaching out and tit punching me.
“Ohmigod, Baby, we are adults,” I said, a laugh falling out as I resisted the urge to grab my boob and comfort it after the abuse from my overly caffeinated best friend.
“Adults have communications skills, Lollipop,” Baby answered back. I glared at her, and Rake bounced on his heels, a manic grin overtaking his face at our exchange.
“I knew I wanted to meet her,” Rake said to me. “I told you.”
