I tilt my head, studying him the same way I do my students before class—looking for tension, for the places they’re holding themselves too tight. And Piers seems to be all tension. I hate how hard this must be for him.
“I suppose you grew up just as lavish as the rest of them?”
His mouth twitches. “You really did no research on us at all did you?”
I wave the pen. “It seems counterintuitive to learn everything I can about you and your pack before coming. I’d rather learn firsthand. Not from a website that probably got a bunch of shit wrong. I know the basics. I know Grieves was a scholarship student and that Forsythe is the younger twin, making him the spare. Thayer is the son of a Duke? And Court is the son of a viscount, but I don’t know about you. Because… well…” I hesitate to say it. But Piers doesn’t.
“Because everyone sees me as an employee and not a member of the pack.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and nod. “Yeah, that.”
He gives me this sad little smile. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined them. I knew it would take time for the queen to accept me. It just seemed like it would be worth it at the time.”
“And now?” I want to shove my foot in my mouth to keep from asking these types of questions. But I keep going. “Does it seem worth it now? Eight years in?”
His cheek twitches. “It… It's changed.”
There’s a hiss from somewhere to my left and I glance over to find Lulu glaring at me. Right, I’m supposed to also pretend like Piers isn’t a member of the pack we’re all here to woo. Otherwise they can’t use any of this. But it's just so hard. And stupid.
I don’t want to treat him like their PA. I want to treat him like a potential lover.
Even if that isn’t the case and never will be.
Piers scowls as he looks over at the producer, but he can’t say anything about it either. He signed up for this the same way I did.
“What did you need help with, sunshine?” he asks me gently, drawing my attention back to him and away from the injustice of this entire fucking situation.
“I wanted to ask for your help with the date planning. You know them better than anyone here and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get your input on their likes and dislikes.”And yours too.Since whatever I plan is going to include him, dating show be damned.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re the first omega that’s asked. It's actually pretty surprising. But then I guess everyone else thinks they know them since they’re such public figures.”
I shrug. “Like I said, I did very little research before coming here. So any insight you have would be appreciated. OtherwiseI’ll end up planning a date for myself, and something tells me they might not like street tacos eaten while sitting on a curb and falling asleep halfway throughClueless.”
He laughs. Loud enough that the other people on the pool deck look in our direction. Forsythe among them. Likely checking I haven’t gotten my greedy omega paws on his beta’s heart.
“You might be surprised, Ren. they really aren’t as fancy as their titles and upbringing make them out to be.”
“Prove it.”
“Forsythe always, without fail, orders cheesy bacon fries from room service when we stay at a hotel. Eats the entire plate without sharing a single fry with the rest of us. Guards the plate like a dog with a bone.”
I blink. “The prince of Bravonne?”
Piers nods solemnly. “The very one.”
I snort at the imagery. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Courtland lives off caffeine and spite when he’s working. Thayer relaxes by grading papers while watching garbage reality TV. Grieves stress eats like a competitive sport. And all of them would rather be comfortable than impressive.” He glances at me, eyes sharp but kind. “If you plan something real—something you—they’ll eat it up.”
I chew on that. “Because if I plan a date for myself, it’s going to involve blankets, comfort food, and probably a competitive video game.”
Piers smiles, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off my cheek. “Then you’re already closer than you think.”
“What about you?”
His brows jump. “Me?” God, I hate how surprised he is whenever I ask him about himself. Like he doesn’t expect anyone to give a shit about him.
“Yeah, dimples.You.What’s your deal?”
