by Lisa Oliver
Precious Perfection
Alpha and Omega series book 11
By Lisa Oliver
Precious Perfection (Alpha and Omega series #11)
Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Design by Lisa Oliver
Background images purchased from Shutterstock.com
Model – Courtesy Paul Henry Serres Photographer – license ABA_113
First Edition June 2019
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Lisa Oliver. [email protected]
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
Precious Perfection is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books By Lisa/Lee Oliver
Dedication
To all my wonderful readers who have waited so patiently for this book as life knocked me around a bit – you mean everything to me, and I only hope this story makes you smile.
To Phil, thank you for your kind words.
To Pat and Amanda, thank you for seeing the mistakes I couldn’t – you guys are wonderful.
Chapter One
“I need you to move the bed back into the showroom.”
“I beg your pardon?” Devyn cast a glance at the oversized bed in question, and then up at Mr. John Sloane, rich investment banker and someone who’d been a huge pain in Devyn’s ass for the past six weeks, ever since the bed was ordered. “I must have misheard you. You said your men would be here today to pick up the bed, which is why it’s sitting at the back of the loading bay, ready to be picked up. Why would you want me to have it moved back into the showroom now?”
Sloane sighed, and glanced at his watch impatiently. “I’m proposing to my boyfriend in front of this bed before it’s installed in the apartment we’ll share after the wedding. The whole thing is a surprise for him. This bed is my gift to our marriage. I can hardly propose amongst the dust and crap in this room, can I?”
Devyn had heard some wild tales in his time, but this one took the cake. The warehouse part of his shop was only as dusty or messy as any other workshop would be. “You want to propose to your boyfriend in my store? Don’t you guys have some place more,” he waved his hand, “romantic, that means something to you where you can go for that? Or maybe, propose to him in the apartment when the bed is installed?”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Sloane snapped, looking Devyn up and down and clearly finding him lacking. “My boyfriend’s as dumb as a pile of rocks, but he looks good on my arm and fucks like an animal. He’s totally besotted with me. He’s going to be so blown away I’m actually offering him marriage, he wouldn’t care if I proposed in a sewer. Buying this bed is as romantic as it’s going to get. We don’t live together, not yet anyway, and I don’t want the proposal sullied by my furniture being moved all over the place.”
It was Devyn’s turn to sigh, although he did it quietly, maintaining what he called his professional expression – the one he used when he secretly thought his clients were bonkers, but couldn’t say so. “In its complete state the bed took four men to move out here,” he said, keeping an even tone. “There’s only myself and Gregor here at the moment. You said your men would be here at twelve noon to pick the bed up. I can’t get anyone to move it back to the showroom before at least one o’clock. If you insist on proposing right now, it’s going to have to be done out here. I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do.”
“Yes, well you wouldn’t be a lot of use in the lifting department, would you?” Sloane was looking at his chair, but Devyn refused to be embarrassed. It was his work Sloane was paying for, and he didn’t need to justify his existence or appearance to anyone. “Fine, I’ll do it out here. I have another appointment in town at twelve forty five and I can’t be late for that. Send my boyfriend through to me when he arrives and make sure we have a few minutes of privacy at least. He texted and said he was on his way. This shouldn’t take longer than five minutes.”
Sir, yes sir. I still don’t know why you can’t just propose to him at home, moving furniture be damned. Haven’t you ever heard of proposing over a romantic dinner? Devyn rolled himself back out to the front of the shop where all his creations were on display. Golden carved woods gleamed in the midday sun, courtesy of the huge display windows. Most of Devyn’s pieces were done on commission, like the mammoth bed ordered by Sloane, but occasionally he completed pieces just on a whim, and it was those that filled his shop area.
“Has that bed gone then?” Gregor was leaning over the counter, plotting out new designs in his ever-present notebook.
“Not yet.” Devyn let out a louder sigh this time. “Turns out Mr. Fancy Pants thinks it’ll be romantic to propose to his boyfriend while giving him the bed. It makes you wonder about the state of their relationship when the guy arranges a proposal in a store, and then schedules another appointment forty five minutes later.” He didn’t mention Sloane wanted the bed moved again. Gregor did enough swearing when it was shifted the last time. In pieces, the bed was manageable, but in one piece it was a monster to move.
“I’m sure glad you got your money before delivery was scheduled,” Gregor grunted. “Guy’s going to look like a right ass if his boyfriend turns him down.”
“I don’t think someone like Mr. Sloane ever considered that option,” Devyn chuckled. Just then the doorbell jingled, and Devyn’s eyes widened. The guy who strode in with a scowl etched on his handsome face was his idea of walking sex. Tightly cropped black hair framed hard features, but the most brilliant feature was the man’s hard green eyes. Fists clenched, as though always prepared for a fight, the man moved with the easy grace of a predator – something Devyn had always envied. For a second Devyn thought he caught the flash of “other” from the man, but he was too far away to tell. From the ripped jeans and the scruffy shirt, D
evyn guessed the man was part of the delivery crew Sloane arranged.
“If you’re here to pick up the bed, I’m afraid you and your men will have to wait ten minutes. Your client plans to propose to his boyfriend before the bed is moved. We’re just waiting on the man in question to arrive.”
“What client?” The man’s growl unsettled something deep in Devyn’s insides. “Are you talking about Sloane?”
“Yes.” Sexy, but with an asshole attitude. Devyn shrank behind the counter, wishing he hadn’t said anything. His innate need to make things right pushed forward though and he rushed to apologize although nothing about the delay was his fault. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know about this either. Sloane just sprang this on me today. I’m sure the proposal thing won’t take long. Sloane said himself he had another appointment in town at quarter to one.”
“I bet he bloody did.” The man sneered. “Fucking jumped up piece of….”
Devyn was shocked, even if he did agree with the stranger’s assessment. “Er… Should you be talking about your client like that? I know it’s a nuisance, but this won’t take long at all. Maybe you and your men could wait in our break room. There’s coffee….”
“I don’t need a fucking coffee. Shit, I did not need this fuck up today either.” The man ran his hand through his short blond hair. “Has your company been paid for the bed? I presume it was custom ordered.”
“The money was in my account this morning. The bed is a private commission piece. There’s not another one like it,” Devyn said stiffly, wondering why it was the delivery guy’s business.
“Yeah, well, paying bills is the one thing Sloane’s good at.” The man pointed to the door marked “Staff Only.” “Is he through there?”
“Well, yes, but wait, I’m sure the boyfriend will be here in a minute….”
“The so-called boyfriend is already here, and if I have anything to say about it, the damn one-of-a-kind bed will be staying where it is,” the man snarled as he strode over and pushed his way through the double doors.
Gregor smirked. “Told you so. Fancy Pants is going to be turned down flat.” But Devyn couldn’t see the humor in the situation. There were a lot of sharp tools in the warehouse. And why did his heart hurt at the man’s casual dismissal of his work?
/~/~/~/~/
Clenching his fists, so his claws didn’t show, Rex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His wolf had started panting the moment he walked into the store, but now he was snarling, which was disconcerting enough. Mind you, he thought, seeing the immaculately dressed Sloane checking his watch as he tapped on his phone, my human side ain’t pleased with the turn of events either.
“Sloane,” he snapped. “Why the hell did you call me down here?” He didn’t mention he knew about the marriage proposal farce. He wasn’t about to get the little cutie at the counter into trouble. “I’ve got a ton of things that need doing at the bar.”
“Rex, babe.” Sloane slid his phone into his jacket. “At last. I’ve been waiting for you. I told you to be here at twelve sharp.” The smile didn’t reach Sloane’s eyes, but then Rex wasn’t sure it ever did. The guy was model-worthy handsome, rich, and buttoned up tighter than a hooker in a church in public. When Rex first saw him, he’d wanted to mess the guy up in the best possible way. He didn’t realize until after the fact that one roll in the sheets would turn the man into a controlling leech.
“Are you channeling your inner grunge freak today, darling?” Sloane continued, ignoring Rex’s impatience like he always did. “You could’ve at least put on a decent pair of pants and a clean shirt when you’re meeting me.”
“You said something about wanting a hand moving your new furniture, although why you needed me here has got me beat.” Rex glanced over at the elaborately carved bed. It was a stunning piece and well suited to someone with his six foot five build. “I’m here, so let’s get it shifted. Do you have a van out the back?”
Sloane laughed, a condescending sound that grated like nails on a blackboard. “Rex, darling, I’ve got four men coming to move the bed into the apartment shortly.” He moved closer and Rex tensed. His wolf wasn’t a Sloane fan, but he wasn’t normally this aggressive. “I wanted you to meet me here, because this bed is a symbol of our new life together. Our bodies are so in tune when we’re beneath the sheets. I thought it was only fitting to do this here.”
He reached into his pocket and Rex’s stomach churned, his wolf’s snarl increasing in intensity and menace. “It’s time we made things official and got married. Aren’t you pleased, darling?” Pulling his hand out of his pocket, Sloane showed him a lavish jewelry box before flipping it open. Two chunky gold rings gleamed in the overhead lights.
“All you have to do is say yes.” Sloane’s smile was tight as he reached for Rex’s hand. Rex had a momentary thought that even when proposing, Sloane refused to get his pants dirty by getting down on one knee. “Say yes, and give up that pokey little bar of yours. I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe and we can honeymoon in the south of France when I go over for the investment conference next week.”
“Next week? Marriage?” Rex snatched his hand away and stuffed it under his armpit. “What the hell have you been sniffing, Sloane? You wanted a bit of rough in your bed. You got it. Marriage was never an option in anything we did.”
“You’re overwhelmed, I knew you would be.” This time Sloane’s laugh was more genuine, but then he was always happiest when he thought he had the upper hand. “I know you were probably waiting for some grand romantic gesture from me, but you know how I am. Take my ring and let’s get out of here. We can celebrate properly when I take you out for dinner tonight.”
“I’m working tonight.” Rex tried to keep his growl to a minimum, but it was getting harder by the second. The problem with men like Sloane is that they never listened, and now his wolf wasn’t listening to him either. “I don’t know where you got the idea about us getting married, but it’s not happening. We’ve got nothing in common,” and you’re not my mate, but of course, he couldn’t say that.
“Don’t be difficult.” Sloane’s smile was slipping fast. “I’ve already made all the arrangements. We’ll have a dinner tonight where I can show you off to some of my friends. I’ve had a custom suit made for you that will fit you perfectly. We can have a small ceremony in my office on Saturday, the suit will be fine for that too, and we’ll be on the plane to France on Sunday.”
“A small ceremony?” Rex’s eyes narrowed. “Does my brother know about this?” If he does and he didn’t warn me, I’ll kick his ass from here to fucking Sunday.
But Sloane shook his head. “We only need two witnesses for the ceremony itself. I’ve arranged for my secretary and the duty guard to be there. It’s not as though either one of us would want to go through a big charade of a formal wedding, when two witnesses and a license is all we need.”
“Well, you’re right about that.” Refusing to look at his wanna-be fiancé, Rex studied the carvings on the bed – mythical beasts swarmed over the headboard, and entwined themselves around the corner posts. It was truly beautiful, and Rex would love to own something like it. But the price Sloane was asking for this particular piece was too high. Rex played around with the best of them, but he would never settle down with anyone who wasn’t his mate. “Look, Sloane, clearly we want different things out of a relationship….”
“We’ve barely had time for a relationship,” Sloane scoffed, his good humor morphing into something darker like it often did when he didn’t get his own way. “You’re so busy with that pokey bar of yours, you barely have enough energy to fuck me at nights. But marrying me will change all that, don’t you see? I’ve arranged an allowance for you and the pre-nup my lawyer drew up is more than generous. You won’t have to work in that bar anymore.”
“I own the damn bar.” Rex knew he had to make Sloane see sense or he’d be shanghaied into a marriage before he knew what happened. Sloane might not be an alpha; he wasn’t even a shifter. But he w
as fucking pushy and a master manipulator. That was the only reason they ended up seeing each other after their first fuck. Rex had been ready to walk away from a lukewarm encounter. Sloane wasn’t. “I don’t want to get married, not now, not ever. In fact, in light of this situation I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore, okay? We had some fun, shared a few laughs, let’s leave it at that.”
“You’re turning me down?” Sloane’s shriek was pure ugly, rebounding as it did around the warehouse walls. Rex winced as his sensitive hearing was assaulted. “You’ll never do better than me. I’ve got more money and more breeding than you’ll ever have. I have men and women falling all over me wherever we go….”
“Which is another reason for us not to marry,” Rex broke in quietly. The angrier Sloane got the calmer Rex felt. “Neither one of us is the type to stay faithful to each other.” He quirked an eyebrow at his now soon-to-be-ex, seeing the beginnings of a blush, or, knowing Sloane the way he did, more like a flush for being caught out. “I won’t marry anyone who can’t keep the promises made in the vows you expect us to share.”
“The vows are for tax purposes, you dumb moron,” Sloane yelled, stamping his foot, finally losing the plot completely. “I can save over a hundred thousand a year in taxes alone taking you on as my spouse. All you have to do is wear the clothes I buy you, look good on my arm and keep your damn mouth shut. You’ll never have to work again.”
Rex took a step back, clapping quietly. “And now the truth comes out. Thanks for that, fuck buddy. You’ve just clinched the end of our non-existent relationship. I know I didn’t leave anything at yours, so there’s no need for us to see each other again.” He smirked at the outrage on Sloane’s face, sure it was the first and only time he’d seen the man speechless. “And one final tip. The next time you see fit to propose to someone – I suggest leaving out the dumb moron statements. That’s the type of statement that’s going to get you punched in the face. Fortunately, I have better control than that. No, no. I said I was controlled, I didn’t say that would last,” he added as Sloane did open his mouth again, “We’re over, good and proper. No need to make a scene about it. I’d say have a nice life, but knowing you, you’ve scheduled that for the first two weeks of next month.”
