The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. One minute. Two. Three.
I can feel Rosemarie watching us. Watching the way Tank and Elias are struggling to process this news. Watching the way I've retreated into myself, stabbing at food I can't bring myself to eat. She's probably thinking about how to make a graceful exit. How to extract herself from what has become a very uncomfortable and personal situation that she never asked to be part of.
I wouldn't blame her for wanting to leave. This isn't her problem. We're not her pack. She has no obligation to sit here and listen to a man she barely knows cry about his dying career.
And then a quiet voice breaks the silence.
"If..."
I look up. Rosemarie is standing near the counter, hands clasped in front of her, looking smaller than she did a moment ago. The confident omega who bickered with me about her nickname and ignored my coffee order and smirked at my growling stomach—that woman seems to have retreated, replaced by someone quieter.
More uncertain.
But not gone. Not completely.
Because beneath the hesitation, I can see something else. Steel. Determination. The same quiet strength I noticed at the gym when she was fighting her way back from the edge of panic.
She takes a breath.
Squares her shoulders. And when she speaks again, her voice is steadier. More certain. Like she's made a decision and she's not going to back down from it.
Tank, Elias, and I all go still.
The kitchen falls so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Sasha lifts his head, amber eyes fixed on Rosemarie like he understood exactly what she just said.
"If I volunteer to be your Omega until Valentine's Day... would that work?"
CHAPTER 15
Breakfast Confessions
~ROSEMARIE~
All eyes are on me.
Three pairs of eyes, to be exact. Three Alphas staring at me like I've just suggested we all move to Mars and start a commune. The heat creeps up my neck, flooding my cheeks, and I can feel myself beginning to blush under the weight of their combined attention.
The kitchen suddenly feels smaller. The morning light streaming through Tank's windows seems too bright. The scents of three Alphas wrap around me like a cocoon I didn't ask for but can't escape—smoked leather and woodsmoke and patchouli, all mingling together until I can barely distinguish where one ends and another begins.
What did I just do? What did I just propose? To be these men's fake Omega for... what? A few weeks?
I do the math quickly in my head. Valentine's Day is less than six weeks away. Six weeks of pretending to be bonded to a pack of Alphas I've known for less than twenty-four hours. Six weeks of playing house with a firefighter, a model, and a militarybodyguard who collectively smell like every fantasy I've never let myself have.
Six weeks of lying to the world. Six weeks of pretending that this is real, that I belong here, that I'm not running from a family that wants to sell me off like livestock.
This is insane. This is absolutely, certifiably insane. What was I thinking?
The silence stretches on, deafening in its intensity. I find myself desperately wishing the steaming hot coffee and the breakfast spread could make some sort of noise—anything to break this horrible, awkward tension. The aroma drifts through the room, rich with bacon and pancakes and the lingering warmth of caramelized honey, but the scent does nothing to fill the void of sound.
Sasha whines softly from his spot near the refrigerator, as if even he can sense the weight of what I've just said. The sound is oddly comforting—at leastsomeonein this room isn't staring at me like I've grown a second head.
Tank is staring at me with an expression I can't read. Elias's eyebrows have climbed so high they've nearly disappeared into his hairline. And Julian—the model from the gym, the one who called me Sweet Ditzy and gave me iron gummies and apparently hasn't stopped thinking about me any more than I've stopped thinking about him—looks like someone has just informed him that the laws of physics have been suspended.
"It could be..." I start, and my voice comes out smaller than I intended. I clear my throat and try again. "It could be a helpful gesture. Not like I need to be paid or anything. I just—I mean, you need an Omega, and I'm an Omega, and?—"
Stop talking. Stop talking before you make this worse.
I frown, a new thought occurring to me. "Well... maybe there is a problem."
