I stare at him, dumbstruck that my careful, deliberate alpha was so careless. “Why, Ot?”
He shrugs, but I know he’s upset by the way his jaw throbs. He doesn’t have many tells, but he despises making mistakes, and this one is a doozie. “I was concerned that Ellis was already talking about claiming bites and baby bumps. I wanted to maintain… a little distance.”
“Fuck!” I can just picture it. Ellis glowing with scent match euphoria and Otley being a suspicious ass, his paranoia insisting it was all too good to be true. I storm away from him, my anger surging back to the surface. “You fucked up! So big, Otley.”
When I glance back at him, he gives the slightest nod of agreement. “We were on our way to grab breakfast when Crest called and said that we needed to check on Ellis’ mom. Catherine was having bad days even back then, and by the time we returned to the hotel, Lily was gone. Crest gave us a note that said she’d caught an earlier flight home. Ellis wanted to go straight to the airport to make sure she was okay, but Crest said she didn’t want any further contact and insisted on her privacy. All we knew was that she was living on a farm somewhere in Idaho.” His mouth tightens into a disappointed line. “We tried to find her, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Do you still have the note?” He nods again, because Otley has the filing habits of a master librarian. “And does her handwriting look anything like this?”
I hold up the postcard and predictably, he shakes his head. “It’s pretty clear Crest wrote it himself.”
Of course, he did. Nathan Crest was a major sleazeball, trying to weasel his way into every corner of Ellis’ life right up until the moment he dropped dead of a heart attack six weeks ago. Since Ellis and his mom were his only living relatives, Otley took on the responsibility of going through his papers, which is no doubt when he discovered the coverup.
“But you remember what the note said.”
“Word for word. Ellis kept it in his wallet for the longest time…” He clears his throat. “She said that spending her heat with us was a mistake. She had an alpha at home, and we didn’t fit into that life. She wanted to pretend it never happened.”
“You meanCrestwanted to pretend it never happened!”
Because how could he make Ellis into the most bankable heartthrob on the planet if he was tied down to an omega who was popping out his babies?
I’m so angry, I storm over to the coffee table and snatch up my satchel, pulling out my camera. I flick back through the most recent shots, and when I find the picture I took with my long-distance lens, I shove it in his face. “That is Ellis’son,Ot. He’s not a baby, if you missed that update. He’s a full-grown kid, and I’m guessing that hunk of masculinity beside him is now his father.”
Otley’s gaze simmers as he stares at the screen, but then he sighs. “We had no idea she was pregnant. Omegas are usually infertile during their first heat, so I assumed there was a low probability of it happening.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
As smart as he is, as cunning and perceptive in all things business, my alpha is a complete blunderhead in matters of the heart.
“She'sthe one percent!” I shout, waving a picture of Lily in his face. I took it while she was leaning over a lavender bush, and she looks like a sun-kissed angel, despite the hitch in her smile and the dark circles under her eyes. “In every way, Otley! Not just because she’s your scent match, but because she’s a really decent human being. But I guess that motorcycle-riding hunk already figured that out, huh? Which means you’re not just a decade late. You also missed your goddamn chance.”
We don’t talk for a while after that.
Otley stays in his study, and I retreat to my bedroom, my steps so furious I’m surprised I don’t leave scorch marks on the floorboards. Not even the handstitched comforter or the silk-flocked wallpaper can soften my mood, although as I stomp into the bathroom and splash water on my face, I have to admit this is the prettiest suite in the house. We have a huge pack room on the top floor, with a bed big enough to house all three of us, but we also like our own space. Luckily, in a house with eight bedrooms, there’s enough of that to go around. Which is just as well for my alphas, since right now I’d probably throttle them in their sleep. In fact, it will take the entire fucking fellowship to drag me intotheirbed for the foreseeable future.
I spend a bristly hour downloading my SD card to my computer. It’s hard to stay mad, though, especially when I get to the section from Rosie’s Blooms. I thought I was just enchanted by its owner, but every shot seems to pop with vitality, and every image is bathed in a sort of ethereal glow. The flower farm really is one of the best locations I’ve found in a long time, and I feel apang of professional disappointment that we won’t be able to use it in the upcoming campaign.
Because I was telling the truth about the Eros Chocolates account. Or the truth as Otley had explained it to me, back when he first floated the idea of setting up house in Idaho. I’d laughed him off at the time, but he insisted we needed a base for the biggest campaign of my career. I’d fallen for it, of course, both because I was excited about the shoot and because I’d grown weary of the hustle and bustle of the west coast. In hindsight, buying a house in Idaho was an extreme way to show his support, but I wasn’t about to argue when his plan suited me down to the ground.
So, Otley and I had flown out ahead of Ellis, who’s on set at a remote location in Alaska for his latest film. It’s the third and final chapter in a massive, award-winning trilogy, and the director is a paranoid lunatic who has kept the whole cast in lockdown to avoid any leaks to the press. Ellis’ star billing means he’s been able to call us every week, but we haven’t seen his face since he left three months ago, which was another reason I was looking forward to the move to Idaho. Once post-production wraps up in a couple of weeks, he’s promised to take the rest of the year off, other than some publicity engagements he can’t get out of.
I scowl at the thought of his studio dragging him off again before he’s had a chance to recover from the grueling shoot. The grim reality is that everyone wants a piece of my alphas – Ellis, because he’s a highly bankable movie star, and Otley, because it’s a well-known fact that he has the juice to make or break careers with a single phone call. Ellis might be the public face of our pack, but Otley is the ultimate dealmaker, working behind the scenes to build fortunes and create empires. Everyone is always looking for a little of his stardust to blow their way,because in a place like Hollywood, power is even more seductive than fame.
I pause on the picture of Lily next to the lavender bush. She didn’t know I was taking it, which just makes the shot more appealing. She has the curves of a Marilyn Monroe with the fine features of an Audrey Hepburn, giving her an enticing blend of fragility and sex appeal. It’s not really surprising, since a decade ago she was the town’s beauty queen, but instead of flaunting her looks, she’s wearing a bandana covered in watering cans and clearly hasn’t indulged in a manicure for a while. According to her own description of farm work, she spends her days knee-deep in grit, sweat, and manure. Is that because she feels obligated to carry on the family business, or because more glamorous jobs are thin on the ground in rural Idaho?
Questions I may never get answers to, thanks to her history with my alphas.
I sigh as I send the picture to the printer, then head to the shower. Parts of the house might be a little heavy and outdated – something Otley promises to remedy in the next few weeks – but my bathroom is a dream, with both a clawfoot bath and a steamer shower. I’m just squeezing some gel into a washcloth when the door opens behind me, and Otley plucks it from my grasp. “Let me, sweetheart.”
“Bossy as usual,” I sigh, but lean back against him as he wraps an arm around my waist.
“I’m sorry you found out that way,” he murmurs as he drags the washcloth over my chest. “I was planning on visiting her myself, to get the lay of the land.”
I twist to give him an incredulous look. “Well, the land is great, but you turning up will probably hit it like an earthquake.”
“She looks tired.” He jerks his head, and I see the picture I took sitting on the vanity beside his glasses. In true Otley form, there isn’t even a hint of shame in his voice that he stole it offmy printer. “Based on what I’ve seen of her farm’s finances, she’s only just breaking even. She’s understaffed and cash poor, and clearly not making the most of other revenue streams.”
Normally, his forensic accountant mode is hot as hell, but it’s all too little, too late for my liking.
