Logan keeps rubbing my leg, and all I want to do is perch on his lap and sit there for hours while I wallow in misery. The worst part is, even if he doesn’t feel anything romantic towards me, he would let me. It always boils down to his Alpha instincts and wanting to protect me as an Omega.
“Go out there and show that prick how strong you really are,” he encourages, and it makes me smile.
“You probably shouldn’t call the new boss a prick.”
“You wouldn’t tell on me, would you, princess?”
I love it when he jokes with me, and the fact that we have secrets with one another. Logan knows everything about me. On the other hand, I have to pry details about his past from him, but he’ll give me a crumb every now and then.
“Your secrets are always safe with me.”
He looks at me adoringly, and maybe it’s years of him being at my side or wanting comfort during this time, but I cup his jaw and stare right back. All it would take for me to give in would be for him to lean forward and place his lips against mine—I’d fold for him immediately.
He grabs my wrist and moves my hand from his face. Of course, he does. Because I’m not supposed to be with someone like him, I’m supposed to be with someone in the life, someone considered suitable by my family.
I’m used to this life, surrounded by powerful men. I can’t imagine anything different. But who I love should still be on my terms. I refuse to be married off to the first pack who wants an alliance with my family. My life is my own and no one else's.
“We can talk about this later, okay?”
I look away and swallow, nodding my head.
“Do you want to go back to the service?” he asks, and I nod my head.
My hands run over my face to make sure I don’t look a mess, and Logan gives me a nod. The soft expression he gave me earlier is gone as his hard shell returns.
Of course, Logan would never cross the line of being anything more than a protector. It would be disrespectful to my family if he didn’t ask my father’s—brother’s—permission first. Not that it would be granted, why let me run away with a footsoldier when my Omega status can do so much more for the family?
He opens the door to the car, holding out an arm and helping me out of the vehicle as we head toward the proceedings once again.
“You’re brave and strong. Hold your head high and let everyone here know you’re still an Amante,” Logan whispers, his hand grazing my lower back before walking away to stand by my brother.
I don’t read into the small touch, but maybe I should. My bodyguard glances back at me with a fierce protectiveness in his eyes. Maybe I should tell him I’m attracted to him and have a serious crush? If he doesn’t reciprocate, they can take him off my detail so I don’t have to constantly scent him and stare at his pretty face.
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling uncomfortable standing on my own. The ceremony is over, but multiple people are standing around and speaking to one another. I’m not sure where I fit in now.
I was usually at my father’s side, his grand achievement, the daughter he loved to show off.
Now, I’m the sister of the newly appointed Don, who, without a question, views me as a problem to be dealt with. I’ve had moments where I felt lonely before; being a part of this family has always been a lonely existence. My options for friends have always been limited, but right now, I feel completely lost.
Who am I if I’m not Don Amante’s daughter?
I’m so lost in my own spiral that I hardly notice someone approaching me. She doesn’t face me when she speaks but stands at my side. She has on a simple black A-line dress and a black hat with dark netting covering her face.
She lights a cigarette, and I tilt my head to appraise her. It’s my father’s “friend”, Carmen. Apparently, once you hit a certain age, boyfriend and girlfriend become terms that are no longer used. I suppose they didn’t truly have a relationship, either. My pàpa bought her things, and she kept him happy. Which I always approved of. My pàpa was a shell of a man after my mother passed away. I don’t know the true nature of his and Carmen’s relationship, but the fact that she’s here shows that she cared for him to some degree.
She opens her clutch while holding her cigarette between two fingers and pulls out a single black card. It almost looks like a metallic playing card. It’s black and lined with red foil, and she hands it to me.
“If you find yourself in need of a new home,” she says calmly.
I take it, and she elbows me in the arm, a subtle way of telling me to hide it and to keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you,” I reply softly, not even having time to really read anything on the card.
“I loved your pàpa in the only way I could ever love someone. He expected to live quite longer, you know. He never anticipated Anthony would take over while you were still unbonded,” Carmen says, and I nod.
I never expected it either.
It’s not even like my father died because he was shot by a rival or got sent to prison. His heart simply gave out—a heart attack—something none of us saw coming; that’s what ripped him away from me.
