ASH
Ican’tstoplookingat myself in the mirrored elevator doors. I look like me but different. I look like a grown-up version of myself with movie star hair. Estelle had been right about all her makeup choices, down to the lip stain she gave me.
And the haircut? She isn’t a professional or anything, and she made me promise not to kill her if I didn’t like it. She sculpted the hair around my face, making my cheekbones stand out and my eyes look mysterious.
I stick my hands into the pockets of my coat and touch the pocket knife. I had to take two buses and walk forever to get here. Reed would have lost his mind knowing I was wandering about without him in a city I didn’t really know.
And I’m alone because of Pierce and Liam.
The elevator opened into a grand lobby. The host greets me with a warm smile and a “May I take your coat?” I freeze and lookaround. No one else has their coat slung over the back of their chair. I palm the pocket knife and put it in the small handbag Estelle lent me, hoping the hostess doesn’t see. Maybe there are rules about knives in the dining room.
“Reservation?” she asks after handing my coat to another girl. They’re both betas, but dressed better than I am in Marilyn’s designer dress.
“Uh, yes, I have a reservation. Ash Voss.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have you here. Could it be under another name?”
“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet Beckett…” His last name slips my mind.
“Oh, Beckett Hansen. Of course, right this way.” She didn’t even have to consult the tablet. She walks in front of me, her hips swaying like she owns the room.
Ash, get on it. You’re supposed to be seducing Beckett.
I try to mimic the hostess, but I’ve never been sexy a day in my life. Maybe I didn’t think this through enough.
She says a few words and then steps aside to reveal the man sitting at the table. His hair is dirty blond, and I can tell he usually keeps it short, but he’s in need of a haircut. And it might still be damp from a recent shower. He’s just sitting there, staring at me.
“Um, are you Beckett?” I say hesitantly as he continues to stare. I look over at the hostess for help, but she just gives me a wink and sashays away.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is hushed like he’s afraid a librarian is going to pop up and yell at him for being too loud. I look over my shoulder again. He can’t be talking about me.
He stands so fast the chair wobbles but doesn’t tip over, and then he’s next to me, taking my hand in his. He’s huge—now just tall, but broad—and I expect fear to bubble up about being this close to an alpha, but it doesn’t. He’s easily the biggest alpha I’veever met. His hands feel rough but warm. His eyes dance all over my face like he’s trying to memorize me.
“I’m sorry, you’re just…”
“Beautiful, you said that.”
“I’m Beckett.” His smile is almost careful, and his scent is like those teddy bear cookies, but soft and not too sweet.
“Ash.” He’s still holding my hand. He doesn’t do any of the normal gross alpha things, like making a big deal of scenting me and licking his lips. He’s just holding my fingertips in his, like I’m precious or delicate. Like he might break me.
He blinks and shakes his head, like a spell has been broken. Finally, he drops my hand and pulls out the chair. I curl my hand into a fist. It feels suddenly cold without him holding it.
“Will you join me?” He asks like I could refuse. His voice is deep and soft, like one of those book narrators.
I just nod, not knowing what else to say. He sits across from me, the chair barely looking stable enough to hold him. I jump when a waiter puts a menu right in front of my face.
“Oh, great! While the beautiful woman decides what she wants, can you bring those pork belly pot stickers, the crab cakes, and—oh, you’re not allergic to shellfish, are you?”
“Shellfish?”
“Lobster?”
“I’ve never had it before.”
“Great. Can we have that lobster tail thing?”
“Of course, Mr. Hansen. Will you be having wine tonight?”
