“Good night, jackass,” Gabriel replied cheerfully. When Luke had gone, he turned back to Orlando, still smirking. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, Lando. You do know I’m forty-four years old, right?”
Orlando raised his eyebrows innocently. Of course, he knew that Gabe was a grown ass man—the salt and pepper hair and beard he sported made it painfully clear they wereallfar fromthe pretty young things they’d once been—but he couldn’t help seeing the younger alpha as that goofy, artsy kid he’d met so long ago.
“I didn’t single anyone out.” Orlando shrugged.
Gabriel grinned, obviously not buying it. “I already made an appointment for next week. I knew I was struggling, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until I tried to paint the other day. The colors were all wrong—muted, somehow, like life has been. But I don’t think the sadness is the same as before. It feels kind of like the last throes of a storm. I’m so close to being out of the rain, but I’m also so used to it that I’m kind of scared I’ve forgotten how to be dry. You know?”
Orlando nodded. He did know. He would never phrase it in such flowery metaphorical language, but that was why he was the businessman and not the artist. Another way Gabriel neatly counterbalanced he and Luke.
Gabriel stood to leave, placing a hand on Orlando’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. All of us. Luke will come along kicking and screaming, but he’ll still get there. You’re making the right decisions, Lando. Our problems aren’t a reflection on your leadership. Life just sucks sometimes. It’s no one’s fault.”
Orlando swallowed, covering Gabe’s hand with his for a moment. His packmate had a unique way of seeing through to the truth of a thing. His artistic eye had uncovered solutions over the years that neither Orlando nor Luke ever could’ve. He really was the heart of Pack Rossi.
“And people still sayget laid. Mostly old people, but still.” Gabriel grinned boyishly, the sight of it warming Orlando’s heart. He strolled from the room, leaving Orlando massaging his temples again, but smiling.
He went to bed that night feeling cautiously optimistic.
Chapter three
Genesis
“You’re tripping, girl,” Avery exclaimed, gesturing animatedly at Genesis’s laptop, and almost knocking over her wine glass. “These guys are super fucking hot.”
They leaned against the bar top in Genesis’s kitchen, shoulders touching as they peered at her computer. No matter how busy Avery got with her mates and kids, or how wrapped up Genesis might be with work, except for during her heats, they always had drinks on Sundays. Sometimes it was early morning coffee or brunch mimosas. Other times it might be wine over dinner or nighty-night tea, and often it was via videochat, but they never missed it. It had been Avery’s idea, of course, but Genesis counted on it every week.
It had always been that way between them, Avery determinedly ensuring that they make time for each other. Back when she was a bubbly little beta spending her afternoons andsummers at the omega academy where her mother worked, she’d noticed Genesis and begun a friendship crusade. Genesis had already been there for a few years, having come to the boarding school at such a young age that she was used to taking classes with much older children, while remaining completely outside their social circles.
Avery had to occupy herself while her mother worked, and Genesis was a readymade friend just her age. Eventually, they’d become inseparable. Even as Genesis grew up and learned to socialize more with the other omegas at the academy, she never managed to get very close to anyone besides Avery.
That Sunday, they’d spent their entire date poring over every detail they could find about Pack Rossi. In addition to the file Dr. Gardiner’s office provided, Greyson had somehow acquired and supplied her full background checks on all three men. Of course, Genesis had also gone into investigative reporter mode and found out plenty on her own. She was sure Pack Rossi was the best choice of the options Dr. Gardiner offered her, but she was still about sixty-five percent certain this whole temporary pack thing was a horrible idea altogether.
“Two of them are old enough to be my fathers,” Genesis replied, rolling her eyes.
“They’re not your fathers, but they can be your daddies,” Avery shot back. “Jesus, look at these silver foxes! You can’t tell me you don’t find them attractive.”
Genesis pursed her lips. “Of course, I find them attractive. I have eyes.”
Avery grinned salaciously. “And a mouth and other holes to fill. These zaddies look well-equipped to take care of you. I don’t understand what you’re freaking out about.”
Genesis groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “That’s because you’re a happily married beta instead of an old maid omega whose stupid body wants her to submit to a packof testosterone-fueled alphaholes for the rest of her life. I might need their help, but I don’t trust these guys.”
Avery cocked her head, fixing Genesis with a penetrating stare. “You don’t trust them because your dads are assholes. It doesn’t mean that all alphas are.”
Genesis laughed. “Did you just ‘not all alphas’ me, Ave? I know that not everyone is like my dads, but the trouble is you can’t tell. They doted on my mother when she was alive. The flowers on her grave hadn’t even wilted before they were bonding a new omega. Just months after her accident. Like she was nothing to them.”
Genesis refilled her wine glass. She’d thought she was over her fathers’ betrayal. It had been a long time and she’d had plenty of therapy. But this whole idea of taking on temporary alphas seemed to be unearthing all of her fears and insecurities.
“Maybe multiple things can be true at once,” Avery suggested gently. “Maybe your dads loved your mom deeplyandthey moved on too quickly. People are complex. Anyway, these absolute fucking babes didn’t make the same mistake. Their omega died almost ten years ago, and the files say they only started volunteering as temp alphas five years ago. It doesn’t seem like they’re eager to mate again—the omegas they’ve tended have since been claimed by other packs. I don’t think you have much to worry about, Gen. It seems like none of you are trying to catch feelings.”
Avery was right. She’d just laid out the biggest reason Genesis had chosen Pack Rossi over several attractive, younger packs. Her heart would be safe because theirs belonged to someone else. She was gambling that they hadn’t moved on from the death of their first omega—a tragic victim of the kind of crime Genesis wanted to fight through her journalism.
“You still look anxious,” Avery said, speaking slowly as if to a child. “Let me spell this out for you, ma’am. You have selecteda pack of extremely hot, incredibly rich, emotionally unavailable alphas who perfectly fit your needs as a career-driven omega who doesn’t want to be claimed or loved because she has deep-seated trust issues but also desperately needs to be rutted into oblivion.”
“I never said I don’t want to be loved,” Genesis corrected, grinning despite herself. “I just don’t trust anyone enough to love me and am unsure I’m capable of love, so I take solace in nihilism. Cheers!”
Avery shook her head, clinking their glasses together. “Well, I see three very good reasons to give it a try. One, Orlando Rossi, a billionaire business tycoon who looks like he would bend you over his knee and spank you before fucking you into next week. Two, Luke Wyatt Wilder, businessman-turned-actual-fucking-cowboy with the requisite rugged good looks and big dick energy oozing from his pores. And three, Gabriel Acosta, dreamboat artist who is obviously the sensitive type that finds beauty in everything and can eat pussy for hours.”
They dissolved into laughter, and Genesis felt much better. Avery spent the rest of the visit making her try on different outfits, makeup, and accessories. When Genesis complained, Avery reminded her that she’d been cursed with sons who refused to wear anything aside from basketball shorts and sweatshirts. So, of course, Genesis grudgingly humored her while she played dress up.
