She simply stares at me.
Then huffs a laugh and shakes her head.
“My brother’s going to enjoy killing you,” she informs me as she slides into the car.
I follow as I reply, “He’s certainly going to enjoy trying to, yes. But I’m not an easy mark, Lark.” The car starts to move, prompting me to reach over and buckle my omega into her seat. I follow suit before changing the topic by asking, “Fancy anything specific for dinner tonight?”
The estate chef is waiting for my orders. She’s an older beta wholovesto cook. She didn’t exactly enjoy being messaged at midnight with instructions to get the team together, but she’s used to our unique hours of operation.
And if she’s a little miffed, that sentiment will vanish when she meets Lark.
All Chef Harmony has wanted for years is a Mrs. of the household to dote on. A mafia queen, really.
That’s all any of us have desired, actually.
And Lark is the perfect one to fill that position.
If she’s willing.
Naturally, that’s the unknown of this equation.
“Honestly?” Lark sounds tired, but her eyes are bright as she gazes back at me. “Being in this part of the country just makes me want a proper pizza.”
“Want something flown in from the city? Because I can make that happen.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I would be fine with whatever is local.” She frowns then. “Except I doubt anything is open.”
“Oh, Chef Harmony is a wizard in the kitchen. She can make anything happen.” I send a message to the woman in question, then add how I would really like a salad, too. “Want anything, Tania?” I ask, aware she can hear us just fine from the front seat.
Lark scowls beside me. “Oh, I think she made it quite clear what she wants.”
My eyebrows lift.
And Tania blows out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bianchi. I didn’t realize you were his scent match. I promise, it’s nothing personal. And thank you, Mr. Greco, but I ate before coming to pick you up.”
I nod and inform the chef that pizza and a salad will suffice. Knowing Harmony, she’ll still whip something up for Tania. She’s her mother, after all.
“Don’t apologize,” Lark grumbles. “I just… I didn’t sleep well on the plane. And everything is… confusing right now.” I can’t see her cheeks all that well in the dark, but I suspect they’ve brightened with color.
It’s adorable.
She’s jealous.
Granted, if an alpha tried to touch her in front of me—one not part of our pack, anyway—I would kill him or her.
“And please call me Lark. Ms. Bianchi is my mother.” Lark frowns. “Gio didn’t tell me anything about her. Is she okay?” The way she asks it makes me wonder about her relationship with her parents, as she doesn’t sound particularly sad, just resigned.
“From what I’ve heard, your mother has relocated to Italy with your father’s former finance advisor,” I tell her.
“Bjorn?” Lark’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I shrug. “As I said, that’s what I’ve heard. There are ways I can find proof of it, if you’d like,” I offer, enjoying the idea of having something I can present to her as a gift.
But she shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. I was never very close to my mom. She…” Lark trails off, her lips twisting. “She spent most days in her nest, only leaving when her pack needed her for appearances or, uh, other things.”
Hmm. From her tone, I gather what she means by “other things.” Which makes me want to ask why those “things” weren’t done in her mother’s nest.
But I suspect that’s not a conversation Lark wants to have about her parents.
