“That man needs a raise,” Winter says under her breath. “I swear, he’s everywhere.”
“Oh he’s paid very well,” I chuckle. “He also insisted on this since we’re taking you with us tonight. We have a few men at the event as well just in case.”
Winter nods, and I’d swear she relaxes just a little. Her run in with that foul goddamned alpha at the boutique affected her. The employees are now much more cognizant about who comes in, and she said she’s no longer left alone.
Winter has the weekend off, and I’m happy to have her and Bellamy with us. Our guys have cleared the scourge of rapists who frequented The Hug Project, and they’re all dead now but for a few men.
Anyone still alive either no longer lives in Savannah, or were visiting at the time they went to The Hug Project. I’ll be paying attention to when they return, as I don’t want to spread our men too thin by chasing them.
As promised, Henri opens the door for us as we pull into the museum entrance, and helps Cassidy out of the car. Cass in turn assists our omegas, and Henri goes around to accept the keys from Abbott. Henri understands how possessive alphas are about their omegas, no matter how well trusted those around them are.
Together, we walk into the lobby as Henri takes care of the SUV, and Cassidy takes my arm as Abbott takes Bellamy’s with a smirk. Ansel shakes his head at our antics, happily stealing Winter’s attention, and his small smile may as well light up the world.
We’ve always been proudly bisexual, and while not everyone accepts that, there are enough people who do. Our friends who run in the same high society circles that we do turn the conversations away from the gossip mongers, reminding them no one cares who’s fucking who unless they’re cheating.
Only then can they gossip to their heart’s content.
“Look how wonderful you all look,” Lyle says, flanked by Silas and Easton. “Bellamy, make sure you check out the private collection while you’re here with Winter. They opened it just for us.”
Bellamy and Winter’s eyes grow large, making me grin.
“Ansel and I will take them before it gets any busier,” Abbott chuckles. “There are perks to these events.”
Lyle watches as they walk away and I raise my brow now that I’m alone with Cassidy.
“Anything up?” I ask.
“I don’t think they should be left alone tonight,” he finally says. “There are people I don’t recognize here tonight, and while it could be fine, I have this odd feeling.”
“We’ll trust your gut,” Cassidy says simply, taking a flute of champagne as she’s offered one by a passing server. “Have you seen our parents yet?”
“I saw Regina,” Lyle murmurs, who is my mother. “Your parents aren’t here yet, Cassidy.”
We stroll through the museum together, commenting on things here and there, while Lyle, Easton, and Silas point out people to us.
“There are two women here tonight I don’t recognize. You said Bellamy and Winter were sold to a woman with blonde hair named Clara, and I heard that name tonight,” Silas explains. “It’s a popular name, but nothing is a coincidence in our lives.”
“That’s correct,” Cassidy breathes. “Thank you. It feels as if there’s always something trying to take them from us. I don’t want to keep Bellamy and Winter from living their lives.”
“So you don’t,” Easton chimes in. “It’s not fair to bubble wrap them after everything they’ve gone through. We’ll do our best to keep them safe.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, catching a glimpse of Cassidy’s parents. “We have deeply disappointed parents at one o’clock.”
Silas hides a smile as he glances in that direction, sighing as they catch sight of us.
“Should I distract them?” he asks.
“I can only dodge them for so long,” Cassidy grumbles. “Thank you for the offer though.”
“Anytime,” Silas says. “It’s still on the table if you need to escape. Tap your middle finger and thumb together, and we’ll be there.”
“It’s so hot when you decide you’re a secret spy, instead of an ex-hockey player,” Easton chuckles.
Silas is the perfect southern gentleman who doesn’t seem to have a job, yet runs various charity clubs while being completely available to his pack. It makes people misunderstand that he’s a walking grapevine of information. He really is the perfect spy despite all their teasing.
“Shhh, don’t tell everyone my secrets,” Silas replies, winking at us.
“Oh, there is one thing that I need,” Cass says suddenly. “Mrs. Lorena Larson caused an issue at the Spanish Moss and Silk boutique recently. Do you know any good dirt on her that you could share with the party’s guests?”
