Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(73)
“Of course,” Matthieu said, nodding. “I respect your decision either way. Now that we know…” He looked to Cyrus who nodded. “We can do our own snooping around if we need to.”
“Thank you for the heads up, sunshine,” Cyrus said, standing up and crossing to the door. “And for looking out for the magazine. Wanna come down for cheesecake?”
“In just a minute,” I said.
Matthieu was still deep in his chair, eyes out the nearby window and lips turned down in a frown. Cyrus left for the hall, and I waited until his footsteps were quiet.
“Matthieu?”
“Hm?” He blinked, eyes landing on me and widening slightly, surprised to find me still here maybe.
“I have a question. It might be dumb,” I said, wincing.
“Don’t say that. Ask anything, it won’t be dumb.”
The room felt too huge between us, and my question was too personal to share with all the empty inches. I stood up from the chair and Matthieu sat up straighter as I moved to him, settling on the footstool.
“Things with Carolyn…it didn’t have anything to do with what happened on Saturday, did it?” I asked, nearly whispering.
I hadn’t seen Matthieu since I’d broken up the party, sick to my stomach and on the edge of yet another panic attack before Leo got me into the elevator and up to his rooms.
“What? Lola, no.” Matthieu leaned forward, warm calloused fingers catching my hand, folding one of mine between both of his. “No, it was nothing to do with anything that happened at the dinner party. It was a long time in coming.”
“I just wanted to make sure,” I said. “I wanted to apologize but—”
“You had nothing to apologize for,” Matthieu urged, vivid pale eyes on mine. He sighed, head dropping, and I got a good look at the threads of silver that ran through his ash brown hair. “It was probably a mistake to think that either one of us could stay happy long term in a relationship outside of my pack. But it’s done now, and we are… We will both be fine. Sooner than it might be polite to admit.”
His touch was gentle on the back of my hand and his scent was heavy in my nose, coaxing and reassuring at the same time, both powerfully masculine and reassuringly gentle. I waited for the panic to rise, for the edgy nerves to crawl under my skin. I wasn’t peaceful, here with Matthieu. My skin was hot and sensitive, and my heart was racing faster, pounding heavily in my veins. But I knew what those symptoms were from, and it wasn’t discomfort.
Dangerous, I thought.
He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing, and the soft strokes on my skin stopped, Matthieu pulling away slowly.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, a slight rasp in his faint accent.
I nodded and wobbled up on numb legs heading for the door.
Rake hates when betas chase his alphas, I reminded myself. But I didn’t feel like I was chasing Matthieu. I didn’t feel like he was hunting me either. More like I was sliding gently in his direction, waiting for the soft collision.
“So what happens if I’m completely terrible at this?” Baby asked. She didn’t sound worried. She might even have sounded excited, or maybe that was just because she was busy staring at everything around her—the racks of clothes waiting for her to try on, the models running around in their underwear and tank tops from one booth to the next, the dozens of assistants trying to wrangle the room into some semblance of order.
“Not fuckin’ possible, kitten.”
Baby had brought one of her alphas, a giant one with a messy top knot of honey brown hair and a thick beard. He was covered in tattoos, dressed in leather and denim with ass-kicker boots, and he smelled like roses. He stood respectfully distant from me, but I was getting used to his presence the longer he hovered and said adorably supportive things to Baby and Seth.
His name was Bullet, and he wasn’t what I was expecting at all. Maybe Baby was right and I needed to come by the Howlers because Bullet wasn’t gruff—well, his voice was—or overbearing. He was cheerful and endearing and disgustingly devoted to Baby.
“You’re going to be amazing, and I’m going to make sure you look perfect for the shoot,” I said. I smiled at Seth. Bomber. I was going to use their road names now that Bullet had said they preferred them. “You both will look perfect. I really appreciate you coming and helping with this.”
“I always knew I was too pretty to just bartend,” Bomber said, grinning and making Baby giggle.
“Lo, this is the coolest ever. I can’t believe you came up with this plan and they just, like—”
“Listened to me?” I joked. “I know! And for it to be a full shoot and not just a little mini-article. I can’t wait to see the clothes. I think it’s gonna be an avant-garde club look.”
“You hear that, Bomb? Gonna put you in pleather and mesh,” Bullet called.
Bomber made a dismissive ‘pft’ sound, and I decided not to warn him that Bullet might be right.
Bullet had been Baby’s pack’s only concession when it came to doing the shoot, and the magazine had been happy to comply. He was like their security guard and considering Rake and Wes were due to arrive any minute, Bullet was just another bit of scenery. One the other models seemed riveted by, based on their scampering past us every few minutes and giggling.