Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(28)

My cheeks flushed, and I wrapped an arm tightly around myself. It was like having a massive open wound exposed to infected air, knowing that this whole pack was not only aware of my weakness, but paid it enough attention to let it affect how I interacted with them.

You shouldn’t interact with them at all, I thought. This was the cost of getting involved with Leo. The cost of my position at Designate. My working for Rakim this week.

“She marked you in the hopes of irritating our pack,” Matthieu said.

“I could tell,” I bit out.

He was quiet for a long stretch, and the heat on my face grew worse. The scents that now marked me—my neck, my shoulders, my cheek—were tangible brands.

“I apologize if my stepping in added to your discomfort,” Matthieu said with careful precision, his usually soft accent turning crisp with unease.

I groaned, propping my elbows on the ledge and pressing my face into my palm until my eyes burned with the pressure. I took a deep breath, and there was Rakim’s perfume against my nose so I tore away again.

“No. You… I appreciated you stepping in, thank you.” I looked at him and he was watching the street below, hawkish nose outlined in a thin glow of sunlight, the groove in the center of his chin marked in shadow. His head dipped in a light acknowledgment.

Older men weren’t usually my type, or at least not one with the gap between our ages like Matthieu and I had, but he was…appealing seemed like the right word, but somehow not enough. I could imagine him twenty years younger and my age, and somehow I was pretty sure I preferred this more weathered version. Or maybe I was just falling back into nasty old habits. He was an alpha, and I badly wanted their attention.

“I’m going to go…wash up. Would you tell Rakim I’ll see him in the morning?”

“Of course,” Matthieu said, and he turned and made it to the door before me, opening it and standing aside. Like a gentleman. “Leo is watching the show. I’ll let him know where you are.”

“Sure,” I said, but I was already hurrying down the hall, leaving Matthieu and his slower pace well behind me.

I stopped before reaching the back of the studio and sliding into the unoccupied restroom. I splashed cold water on my face, but all I smelled in the water in my palms was chocolate truffles and heavy jasmine. I turned the water to hot and pumped soap into my hand, lathering it up to the cuffs of my sleeves at my elbows. Remembering Rake’s touch on my jaw, Odette’s cheek against mine, I bent over the sink and splashed my skin again, added soap to scrub away the scents and my makeup for the day.

The bathroom was beautiful, with patterned marble and gleaming brass, and there were fluffy towels waiting in a tidy pile for guests’ use. I took one and lathered it with soap, scoured it over my face, my jaw, my throat, and down to my collar. Matthieu’s dense scent was light on my shoulders and when my ponytail swung down to tickle my nose, Rake’s perfume was there. My breath hitched as my heart started to hammer in my chest. I washed my arms again, my face too until my skin was pink and my eyes were red and watering, and then I started over until the water was burning hot and my skin stung from the friction of the towel.

I gasped and braced my hands against the cool marble, water steaming in the sink, towel soiled from my makeup, and mascara shadows dark beneath my eyes.

“You fucking mess,” I whispered at my reflection, face twisted in frustrated disgust. I wanted to strip my clothes off, tear my hair tie out, and scratch away every last whisper of any scent, even my own pale beta notes.

“Lola?”

I bit back my moan as a light knock sounded on the door. Leo. I bent in half, resting my forehead against the cool of the edge of the counter, and tried to control my breaths.

One look at me, and Leo would know. Maybe not all the details, but he’d know I’d fallen apart again. How many times could I reasonably expect a guy to put up with my bullshit before he packed it in and gave up the pretense?

I hadn’t locked the door behind me and it opened slowly by a few inches, and then Leo was sliding inside. I didn’t move. I was waiting for him to look his fill, and then turn around and leave.

He crossed to me, hands pulling me up gently by my shoulders. I kept my eyes on the running water as he looked me over, watched his hand reach over and turn the taps off with a numb and vacant attention. I hissed as his fingers turned my face to his, his touch against the spot where I’d scratched myself pink trying to wash away Rake’s perfume. I stared at his five o’clock shadow and then raised my eyes slowly to his, struck by the solemn and sorrowful empathy in his gaze.

Just give up, Leo.

He winced when he saw the red mark on my jaw and his hands retreated from me. I sighed, but instead of leaving me in the restroom alone, Leo shrugged his large coat off his shoulders and draped it around mine. It was warm from him and I shivered inside of it, my eyes growing wide.

“Think about what you want to pick up for dinner. I want to sit on your couch and eat takeout tonight,” Leo said.

“Leo,” I whispered, a crack in my voice.

He opened his mouth, probably expecting me to protest. But god, I was too fucking tired for that. I threw myself at his chest and he let out an ‘oof’ of breath before his arms surrounded my shoulders.

It didn’t escape me that he smelled like that lovely, warm alpha of his, but it was so familiar on him that I almost thought of it as his scent. I tucked my arms into the sleeves of his coat and tilted my head back, my eyes falling shut as his head bent, and his lips pressed to my forehead.