“I’m sorry, this whole thing’s just weird. I didn’t want to be on this show. My sister signed me up. And—” She glances at the cameras, her voice faltering. “And now I’m here.”
“You don’t sound happy about that,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but the admission cuts deeper than I expected. Is she going to ask to be sent home? The thought of losing her, of her walking away, twists something tight in my chest.
She snorts, a sound that’s more bitter than amused. “I don’t know how I feel. I didn’t come here looking for love. Competing with other omegas is not something I ever wanted to do. Once was enough for me—been there, done that, and I’ve got the emotional wounds to prove it. But now I’m here and—” She presses her lips together, her eyes clouding with emotions she doesn’t seem ready to share. “It isn’t what I expected.”
Hearing her say that she’s been hurt before ignites something primal in me. I’m the rational one, the one who keeps his cool, but the thought of someone else causing her pain makes my blood boil. Even if it’s in her past, I want to find whoever it was and make them regret it.
“Why did you come?” Rafe asks, his voice edged with a detachment that feels like a shield, as if he’s bracing himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear.
A small, rueful smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head. “Because I puked all over you, and the papers were saying I’m broken. Not that they even knew who I was. To them, I’m just Ashlyn Robinson’s broken little sister. The girl who tossed her cookies all over superstar Rafe Carson. And then fate, being the cruel mistress she is, made sure you’d be here too.” She looks across the table at him, her voice laced with a soft snort that’s halfway to a laugh, but it’s tinged with so much resignation it stings.
“You didn’t know I’d be here?” Rafe asks, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing as he inhales again, like he’s trying to catch something in the air beyond just her scent. Ican see the shift in his expression, the conflict bubbling just beneath the surface as he waits for her answer.
She shakes her head, placing the menu back on the table. “I barely made it out of the limo once I saw you.”
The tension in the air thickens, a loaded silence settling over us as Rafe narrows his eyes, calculating, searching her face as if the answer to a question he hasn’t asked is written there.
Elliott clears his throat, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “I’m glad you did. You’re refreshingly blunt.”
Her cheeks pinken, and she ducks her head, the vulnerability in her eyes stirring something protective in me. “It was the nerves that made me say that the first night. I’m not normally that direct.”
“Maybe I could give it a try, break the rules a little…” Elliott murmurs, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper, leaving no doubt as to what he could have added. There’s a challenge in his words, a silent dare that hangs between them.
Lilah jumps in her seat, her eyes darting to Rafe as if searching for reassurance. Rafe, who’s been watching her with an intensity that borders on possessiveness, finally speaks. “Yeah, Lilah,break the rules a little.” His voice is low, carrying an undercurrent of something darker, something that sends a shiver down my spine.
CHAPTER 18
Lilah
My stomach twists into knots,a turbulent mix of nerves and regret swirling inside me. The decision to skip the lotion and pill this morning was reckless, and now it's catching up with me. Heat blooms across my cheeks as Elliott leans closer, his flirtatious grin making my pulse race. I can feel the subtle warmth spreading from my wrists, betraying me as my scent slowly permeates the air.
Under the table, something brushes against my leg, a gentle, lingering touch that sends a jolt straight through me. I nearly jump out of my seat, my eyes snapping to Rafe, who watches me with a challenge glittering in his gaze.
"Yeah, Lilah, break the rules a little," he murmurs, his voice low and edged with something I can't quite decipher.
A shiver dances down my spine at his words, the double-meaning not lost on me. Ever since he realized what I'd done, an unspoken tension has crackled between us, sharp and electric. He masks it well for the cameras, but in these small, charged moments, his displeasure seeps through, tightening the space around us.
I swallow hard, reaching for the cold glass of water infront of me and taking a long sip, hoping to quell the heat rising beneath my skin. "I'm actually a rule follower," I say, attempting a lightness I don't feel. "So if Elliott wants to break them, it won't be with me. Besides, I can think of a few omegas here who wouldn't need your musk as an excuse to climb you like a tree."
My attempt at humor hangs in the air, and for a moment, uncertainty grips me. Then Elliott's eyes spark with amusement, a slow smile spreading across his face that makes my heart skip.
"That reminds me," Rafe starts, a mischievous glint replacing the earlier edge in his eyes. "Didn't you mention something about Elliott and?—"
Panic flares, and before I can think, my foot connects with his shin under the table. He lets out a grunt, followed by a rich, genuine laugh that eases some of the tightness in my chest. The sound is contagious, and despite myself, a small smile tugs at my lips.
Our laughter is interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, her notepad poised and ready. Grateful for the distraction, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Um, could I get eggs, toast, and a side of pancakes, please?" The simplicity feels safe, grounding.
She nods efficiently before turning to Miles. As he orders, his choice catches my attention.
"I'll take the Nutella, strawberries, bananas, and blueberry waffles," he says.
My mouth waters instantly, and without thinking, I lean forward. "Oh, can I get that too?"
"Certainly," the waitress replies, her pen scratching across the paper as she takes down the rest of the orders. “And for you?” the waitress asks, her gaze lingering on Elliott as she prepares to take his order.
“Cinnamon bread French toast with some scrambledeggs,” he replies smoothly, handing over his menu. Miles follows suit, stacking his menu on top and passing them to Rafe.
“Me too, just the cinnamon bread French toast,” I add quickly, second-guessing my original order. The waitress suppresses a smile, her pen moving swiftly across the notepad.
