Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(25)

“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 blinked. 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.