Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(26)

“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.”