“Stay,” Oliver murmurs as I melt against him. My first instinct is to roll over but he just tightens his grip, pulling me further onto him, my full weight pressing him into the blankets. “Right here. Just like that.”
I don’t even try to protest as the Omega holds onto me, my mind at peace once again.
13
Oliver
I can’t stop watching Nicholas Cavallero stare at Wilson. Twenty-three times so far tonight. I’ve been counting from behind the bar while butchering a mojito that the woman at station three is going to regret ordering. Nicholas is posted near the east corridor, doing his job, scanning the crowd, and checking corners. Every forty-five seconds, his gaze swings to wherever Wilson is standing.
Wilson is handling a bachelorette party that’s getting progressively louder near the dance floor. He’s got that expression, the flat mouth with the eyes doing all the work and the bride-to-be keeps apologizing for her friends while Wilson waves her off with a patience that would surprise anyone who doesn’t know him.
I watch Nicholas navigate the group from across the room. His mouth twitches. His glasses catch reflections of lights across thefloor when he tilts his head, tracking Wilson’s path through the crowd.
Wilson feels it. He won’t admit it and he’d bite my head off if I pointed it out but his shoulders shift when Nicholas’s gaze lands on him. His spine straightens by a fraction. His chin lifts. The rigid set of his jaw loosens for just a second before he catches himself, adjusts his collar, and moves to the next table.
Forty-five seconds later, Nicholas looks at him again.
I abandon the mojito to the other bartender. Lorenzo is reviewing something on his clipboard near the office door, my whole body leaning into my Beta’s space. He lowers the board briefly to grant me a kiss, savoring my lips until I pull away. “Yes, baby? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Tell me you see this,” I murmur, my voice barely above the music. “Tell me you’re watching what I’m watching.” I wave my hand in the general direction of Wilson.
Lorenzo’s gaze flicks to the floor, finding Nicholas first, then tracking to Wilson, then back. He watches for a full minute. “The chemistry is obvious.”
“Obvious? Twenty-three times, Lorenzo. I’ve watched him reorient his entire body toward Wilson twenty-three times tonight.”
“Of course you counted.”
“And Wilson.” I grab Lorenzo’s forearm. “When Nicholas looks at him, his whole body relaxes for half a second before his brain slams the door shut. I’ve never seen him do that with anyone except us.”
Lorenzo’s pen taps twice against my clipboard. “What are you suggesting?” he asks.
“That we invite Nicholas for a drink after close tonight. All four of us. Let them be in the same room without a crowd between them.”
Lorenzo’s gaze drifts to the floor, where Wilson is collecting empties from a high-top. “Wilson’s had a rough few days,” he murmurs.
“Which is exactly why we do this gently. I’m not pushing. I’m opening a door.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Your version of opening a door usually involves removing the hinges.”
“I’ll be subtle.”
Lorenzo looks back at me.
“I’ll be subtle-adjacent,” I add.
His mouth twitches as his hand finds the back of my neck, a quick squeeze that sends warmth down my spine. “Talk to Nicholas first. If he’s uncomfortable, we drop it.”
“Deal.”
I watch the shift wind down. Last call comes and goes. The floor clears in that usual slow drain. Nicholas moves through the club on his final sweep, checking restrooms, and guiding the last patrons toward the exit with the easy authority that makes him so good at this job. Some part of me is ecstatic that this could work. The other part is selfish because I quite liked having Nicholas in our bed.
His hands are really,reallygood.
Nicholas’ path brings him past the bar where I’m loading the last rack of glasses, and I step into his line of fire before he can reach the front door. “Nicholas. Hang on a sec.”
He stops, hand already reaching for his jacket draped over the hostess stand. Up close, the amber of his scent is stronger, filling the space between us. “What’s up?”
“Stay for a drink. We’re closing up but Lorenzo’s opening something nice, and it’d be good to decompress. You’ve been pulling a lot of shifts lately.” I would be more suspicious if Wilson weren’t here for him to ogle.
