“I’d be ready if you didn’t insist on a full hair and makeup team.” I roll my eyes and head to my room to put the dress on.
It’s skin tight, and while it looks hot, I hate it. It’s not me. I look like Poison Ivy, but with pink hair instead of red. Again, hot, but too much for a simple brunch.
I’m on my way back down the stairs, the heels nearly taking me out in the process, when Damien grabs my arms, steadying me before I can faceplant.
His touch sends a spark of desire through me that I clamp the fuck down, because hell no to that.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
He says nothing as his eyes roam over me. “Why are you dressed like you’re going to a gala?”
“Don’t ask me, ask my crazy mother. It’s brunch for fuck’s sake. This is so stupid, so over the top. I wear crazy clothes daily, I’m aware of that. But this?” I wave my hands down my body. “Is too much for me. It’s going to draw attention, and for the first time, I don’t like the idea of that.”
I’ve just word vomited to my annoying stepbrother.Lovely.
He stares at me, annoying me even more. “Whatever.” I start to head toward the door.
“If it’s worth anything, you look good.” His gruff voice has me pausing.
“It’s a good thing it isn’t,” I reply, not turning my head to look at him as I continue out the door.
The thing is, it does mean something. More than it should. He thinks I look good. Damien, my godly, good-looking, hockey-playing stepbrother, thinks I look good. Teenage Addie is slicking her panties right now.
And maybe current Addie has the urge, too.
“Get it together” I scold myself as I lower into the back seat of the town car. The last thing I need is to meet three Alphas smelling aroused. They would give the wrong idea.
The restaurant is nice. The food is good. The company, however, is not.
I’m not surprised. It’s going exactly how I thought it would.
Don’t get me wrong, they’ve been gentlemen. Polite and kind. They greeted me nicely and pulled my chair out for me.
That's when things began to go downhill.
When it was time to order, they did it for me. They didn’t even give me the chance to look at the menu. I like salad, I do. However, that's not what I wanted when they ordered for me. The least they could have done was let me add chicken to it!
When I asked for a soda, they gave me a disapproving look and said it’s not good for me, then told the server I’d have sparkling lemon water instead.
Now they’re droning on and on about work.
Themselves. They’ve made this all about themselves and haven’t given me a chance to speak. Not that I really want to. I have a feeling they would disapprove of anything I had to say.
They make sure to let me know how successful they are, how much money they have, and that their future Omega will want for nothing. Their future children will be well taken care of.
I’ve pretty much tuned out now, poking at my food and giving them the occasional nod or sound to show them I’m listening.
“It was lovely meeting you, Addison,” Clifford says, pulling me out of my daydream. “We should do this again sometime.”
Wait, it’s time to go? The date is over? Oh, thank god.
I plaster on my best smile. “Thank you so much for lunch, boys. It was...” I look down at my barely touched salad. “Fresh.”
“It was our pleasure.” Benedict nods. “Let’s make plans for another date. What does your weekend look like?”
No. No, dear god, no. No more dates.
I want to turn them down and tell them I’m not interested, but my mother would be on my case, and I don’t want to deal with her crap right now.
