I leave it hanging on the open closet door while I grab underwear and socks from the dresser.
A few minutes later, I’ve confirmed the suit still fits, and I’m sitting down on the edge of the bed to put on my dark gray dress shoes.
Finally, I’m ready to go.
I smooth down my white shirt and tuck it in a little better.
Then, I move over to the closet to put the hanger back inside.
I catch sight of myself in the closet’s mirror before I close the door and I can’t help but wince.
I look exactly like the kind of guy who would go fishing for an Omega at Goldcrest.
The agitated expression I’m wearing only makes me seem even more like an entitled elite.
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
You’re not actually looking for an Omega.
You already have one of those, even if your application denied Harper’s existence.
You’ll make that up to him later, once you’ve gotten the peace you’re going out there to find.
“Ready?” Shayne asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
He’s already standing by the door, holding it open.
Ever since I decided to do this, he’s gone along with it, without hesitation.
Yet I know Goldcrest is the last place on earth he would ever choose to go.
He walked away from his parents and their fortune because he didn’t want to end up like them.
The social event he refused to go to was the final straw for their already strained relationship.
Now, here I am, asking him to walk with me into that fucking place to attend the same kind of event, and he’s doing it without a single complaint.
I don’t know how lucky I am, clearly.
“I’m ready,” I tell him as I move over to where he’s standing. “You don’t have to be.”
He frowns as I stop in front of him. “I don’t get what you mean.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” I explain.
His expression shifts slowly, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
“Oh, no. No. You don’t get to push me back now, Johnny Falcone. I’m all in for this crazy adventure. You know better than to try and do this alone. I’m beside you all the way. I think I made that pretty clear when I let you mark me first.”
“Let me?” I scoff, leaning in close. “You begged for my mark, or did you forget?”
His bright eyes light up when his gaze meets mine.
I let my hand rest on his shoulder while my thumb grazes the spot at his collar where the mark I made is hidden under his clothes.
He moans softly.
“If you remember, I begged you to mark my throat,” he murmurs, the first hint of lust rising in his raspy tone.
