Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(12)

“I do,” I said, nodding.

“Okay then, you do it,” he said, relaxing back into his seat.

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean. I can’t—”

“Cy!” Rakim called over his shoulder, and I stiffened as Cyrus looked up from his tablet and crossed to us.

“What’s up, hun?” Cyrus asked, his alpha instincts making him stand taller and broader in front of the omega.

“Who is this lovely creature, and can she do my makeup that Courtney has attempted with the subtlety of an axe when a butter knife was called for?”

I snorted and choked on my stifled laugh as Cyrus just gave Rakim an indulgent smile. “This is Lola, our new girl,” he said warmly. “And she certainly can’t do worse.”

Cyrus gave me a brief, warning glance. Not unfriendly, but more like ‘I vouched for you, so don’t fuck it up.’ The big alpha, the one who was dressed all in black and I was pretty sure was wearing a holster under his tailored black jacket, had moved a little farther away and was watching but without suspicion.

“Fix me, Lola,” Rakim said, sweetening my name into a long rounded plea.

Cyrus was already returning to his corner of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Ten minutes.”

Fuck. Ten minutes gave me no room to hesitate.

I lunged and grabbed up the supplies, and Rakim grinned and settled deeper in his chair, letting his head fall back to expose his throat and shoulders to me, his thighs spread open in front of him. Courtney had done a good job on his face at least, getting the dewy, fresh look that’d been assigned to the shoot, so all I had to do was correct her coverup on the omega’s shoulder. His outfit was hanging up at the corner of the booth and there wasn’t a shirt for the look, just a jacket and a patterned scarf and slacks. It wasn’t until I had my foundation choice mixed and was stepping up close, that I realized the need for the coverup in the first place.

This wasn’t a tattoo cover. Rakim Oren had a bondmark.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s like, not a secret, but since no one wants bondmarks in shoots, it’s not general public knowledge either,” Rakim supplied.

I pressed my lips together and grabbed a wipe, erasing Courtney’s clumsy work, revealing the shining crescents of the bite. I picked up a new sponge and set to my own work, using long smooth strokes to follow the line of his musculature, instead of the usual pressing dabs. It left more room for error generally, but also allowed for natural shadow. The ridges of the scar might catch some light or shadow, but that would be easier to photoshop out than bad coloring. When I moved to repeat the process on the other shoulder he raised his eyebrows.

“So they match. It’s close, but nothing will ever be one-hundred percent perfect,” I said, concentrating on being even.

Someone called five minutes in the room, and I grabbed a brush to blend and then powder, picking up a quick bronzer and highlight at the last moment and using it to soften the last line where I ended my work.

“You do know what you’re doing.”

“I used to do a lot of live video tutorials. No photoshopping in post,” I said, smiling.

Rakim’s stare was an almost tangible pressure on my skin, and my lungs were full of his perfume, the scent growing stronger with every minute passing.

“You didn’t want to be a makeup artist?” he asked.

I did, kind of. I also wanted to work at Designate and study and influence new trends. Mostly though, I hadn’t worked in a year, and I was happy to just be back in the world that I loved.

“Apparently, I can be both,” I said instead, catching his glittering smile. “All done.”

At the same moment, one of the assistants called for Rakim to be dressed.

“Thanks, Lola,” he said as I dropped poor Courtney’s supplies back to the counter and left to join Cyrus and Zane.

I flashed him a quick smile and then ducked out of the way of the fuming brunette whose work I suspected I’d just corrected.

“Show off,” Zane muttered as I reached him, the snap in the tone balancing perfectly between irritation and teasing.

Cyrus just winked at me and returned to watching the room in its busy work.





Four





Lola





The photoshoot went late, and while Cyrus told both Zane and I that we could head out whenever we wanted, Zane didn’t budge, and neither did I. It was somehow both dull and thrilling to watch. A lot of time was spent waiting, rechecking, retouching, reorganizing, and then the room would work twice as fast to compensate.

Rakim was done early, escorted out by his giant of an alpha security guard, the privilege of being the star of our models for the day. I wondered briefly if the alpha security was actually Rakim’s bonded alpha, but dismissed it quickly. The big guy was too professional and showed none of the usual hovering and possessive alpha behaviors. Another sickly sweet omega female was early to leave, and I wasn’t surprised it was the beta models who were called to stay late. Kind of typical.

Cyrus parted ways with us when we finally left the room after eleven, and Zane grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator as I went to grab my purse.

“It’s club night!” he said, shimmying his shoulders at me as I headed for our group office.

I debated briefly asking him to wait, joining him for the night. Except that would expose my habit, and even if Zane was after the same thing—a temporary hook-up for the night—there was something vulnerable about letting someone else see that side of myself. Plus, I was still a little shaken from my last attempt.