The grand 1920s art deco lobby gleams in marble. A long, golden counter runs along the back.
Vast crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling. Columns rise between the sweeping mahogany staircase.
A striking fireplace, which roars and crackles with an open log fire, stands between ivory couches, which are flanked by tall vases with fresh flowers.
The entire lobby, however, has been transformed into a stunning winter wonderland with stylish silver and white decorations and matching plush throws. Scented candles, which along with the ventilators that work throughout the public areas of the hotel to help neutralize the mix of so many pheromones and scents, make the room smell of gingerbread.
My eyes sting with tears.
Hell, I miss Dad.
I glance at my brother and know that he’s thinking the same thing.
Dad smells of gingerbread.
Is that why Maya is using the scent? Or is it just chance?
Bird whistles softly under his breath. “Look at that tree. What a monster.”
The fir tree is so tall that the top is slanted at an angle; the star on the top looks like it’s pointing back at the earth.
Is that a bad omen?
I quirk my brow. “I bet that Ellington chose it to compensate for his tiny dick.”
“Maybe it’s shaped like his too.” Bird snickers.
“Disrespectful.”
“Shocking. Almost like I’m rebellious.”
“Now there’s one Omega who definitely has knot envy.”
I love both my dad and Papa. I have tried to love my stepdad. But I barely know Ellington, and he hasn’t tried to know me.
Not all Omegas are good.
The music is louder here and jaunty like the elegantly dressed packs— baseball stars, tech billionaires, and senators — who chatter happily and stroll with their precious Omegas held cozily between them.
My nails bite into my palms at the sight of an Omega, who is bundled up in a warm woolen pink coat and scarf, with her female Beta’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.
I recognize the Beta as a famous movie star from the latest fantasy blockbuster franchise.
The Alpha is carrying in his arms a swaying stack of brightly wrapped Christmas presents.
I wrench my gaze away to Ollie, Icarus’ high school aged Beta brother, who isn’t in school like he should be but is working as the hotel’s bell hop.
Ollie is struggling to drag a striped suitcase after him, which is as large as he is.
He is dressed in a distinctive outfit that looks like a uniform for a drummer boy with a fitted waist-length jacket with trimmed piping and rows of close-set brass buttons and black trousers.
An oval, brimless cap with a crown and a chinstrap is flattening his wild golden curls. He has the same blue eyes as Icarus.
I stiffen, when a female Alpha, who is the same age as Ollie, pats him on the head patronizingly as they walk.
Ollie only continues to smile cheerfully.
After all, it’s the rule that staff must never look sad in front of guests.
