Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(71)

He’s not twice her age either, I reminded myself.

“Is it wrong of me to say I’m a little relieved?” Rake asked.

“Rake,” Cyrus cautioned in a low tone.

I huffed at my plate and shook my head. “You would not be the man I know if you didn’t,” I teased back, gifting Rake the tired smile he’d be striving for.

Satisfied, he relaxed, his arm slipping from Lola’s shoulders as we returned to our dinners, conversations finding their way back to their usual patterns. Wes watched me, and I met his stare.

“You’re a bit relieved too, aren’t you?” Wes asked, quiet enough that only Cyrus on my other side might hear.

“A bit,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t like that she never warmed up to our pack as a family. I’ll be glad not to worry about that tension.”

Wes nodded. “You’ll find someone that fits in with us,” he said.

Wes was often impossible to read. He could crack a smile or a joke like the flip of a switch, but he could hide his worry and anger beneath an impenetrable stone veneer. Only a decade of living with him gave me the sense that I was being laughed at. His eyes never left my face, but it was like he was pointing a finger down the table to where Lola sat at the corner. I glared at him, and just like that, his grin flashed and he returned to his dinner.

Successfully made paranoid about my transparent interest in a younger woman well out of my reach, I ate the rest of my dinner with my head down. Wes collected our plates as we finished up, and chairs started to scrape away from the table.

“I made a cheesecake that’s in the fridge whenever anyone feels ready for dessert,” Leo announced. “I think I need a walk around the gardens before I dive in. Lola, want to join me?”

“I’ll help you clear away,” I said to Wes.

Lola stood from the table, hands wringing in front of her. “Actually, I…I was wondering if I could grab a word with Cyrus and Matthieu.”

I was half out of my chair, spare glasses in my hand, my eyes caught wide in surprise. One look at Cyrus, and I knew he was equally caught off guard, as were Leo and Rake.

“Of course,” I said. “Here? Or…”

“Um, private, maybe,” Lola said, voice losing courage with a wobbled note, her shoulder twitching with a shrug. “An office?”

Cyrus and I nodded to one another, and I set the glasses back on the table. “We’ll go to my office,” I said with a nod. Cyrus’ was more of an art studio, and there wasn’t anywhere to sit or speak really. “Or we could use Leo’s, I’m sure,” I said, when I realized Lola might prefer a space that didn’t belong to an alpha.

“Yours is fine,” Lola said.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Leo asked her.

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders back, fixing a tight lipped smile to her face. “I’ll find you when this is done. Save me a slice of cheesecake.”

The room watched Lola’s back as she headed for the stairs, Cyrus and I following quickly behind her.





Twenty-Three





Lola





I fiddled with the cuffs of my blouse, wishing I’d changed before dinner into something more comfortable. But maybe it was better to be dressed this way, bound up in professional clothing rather than facing Matthieu and Cyrus in leggings and one of Leo’s sweaters.

I entered Matthieu’s office and the room looked different in daylight. Less cozy, maybe, more professional. I’d snuck down a couple more times to listen to his nighttime strumming, although I hadn’t peeked my head in again. Now I hovered in the center of the room, surrounded by the deep, velvety scent of him on every surface. Behind me, Matthieu and Cyrus entered.

“Sit,” Matthieu said gently. I opened my mouth to refuse, and he settled into his own worn-out armchair. “Sit, you’ll make Cyrus anxious.”

Cyrus scoffed lightly, leaning against Matthieu’s giant oak desk with his ankles crossed.

The only seat in the room that wasn’t Matthieu’s footstool was a newer version of the armchair Matthieu sat in, its leather still in high shine. It faced Matthieu and Cyrus with plenty of open space between us, and it smelled more like an armchair than the alpha who owned it, but when I sat I sank deep into the cushions.

“I take it it’s about the magazine if you wanted to see the two of us,” Cyrus said. He wore a smile, but it seemed tense, like the one he wore during meetings with Wendy. “If I’ve made you at all uncomfortable—”

“What? No! God, no,” I said, perching on the edge of the chair. “It’s nothing like that at all.”

Maybe Cyrus had made me uncomfortable in the beginning, but only by being an alpha, nothing he’d done. I felt terrible that he’d even question his own behavior. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.

“It’s about Wendy,” I said.

Matthieu and Cyrus exchanged a glance, guarded and unreadable, and Matthieu sank back into his seat.

“What about Wendy?” Cyrus asked. “She sings your praises. Well, as much as she does anyone’s.”

I swallowed and nodded. “No, I know. She’s…it’s not her directly, but I’ve been…approached,” I said, wincing. “By Zane at first, and then today by Betty as well.”