They blink in perfect synchronization. Stare.
Four Alphas looking at me like I’ve just announced I can fly.
“Well,” Dylan says slowly, “good for you, man. Getting action even here. That’s… impressive.”
“In the bathroom?” Jasper asks, one eyebrow raised in a way that suggests he doesn’t believe a word of this.
“Nah, man. Just out back. In the alley. We snuck out.” I’m wiping frantically at my mouth with a napkin from the table, trying to remove the evidence. “You know how it is. Girls see a new face in town, and they get curious. Can’t help the Monroe charm.”
I’m channeling every manly, overconfident attitude I can think of, gesturing to myself like I’m God’s gift to women.
They’re still staring, looking stunned and slightly suspicious.
“Anyway, hope you didn’t eat everything while I was gone.” I grab dumplings and shove one in my mouth. “Oh, and Anita’s here somewhere. She’s on her phone, dealing with a client thing. She’ll be back soon.”
I eat, chewing mechanically, trying to act like this is all totally normal.
My next move needs to be getting Anita out of here. Urgent deadline. Emergency. Something.
No more being Mrs. Doubtfire because I am absolutely, definitively not made for this level of deception.
The guys start chatting again, slowly returning to normal conversation, when Dylan asks me, “So, who’s the lucky girl?”
“Oh, just one of the girls here for dinner. No biggie.” I wave a hand dismissively, like this is totally normal behavior for me.
There’s a pause.
“You don’t know her name?”
I shake my head.
“That’s a bit cruel, don’t you think?” Jasper adds, and he actually sounds disapproving. “At least have the decency to find out someone’s name before you…”
He trails off, but the implication is clear.
I’m chewing a dumpling, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of four Alphas lecturing me—a woman pretending to be a man—about how to treat women with respect.
“You’re right,” I say, swallowing and trying to sound chastened. “That was shitty of me. Let me go find her and apologize properly.”
I wink, trying to salvage this with humor.
“Yeah, gomakeit up to her,” Dylan says with exaggerated emphasis and a matching wink. “Make sure she knows you’re sorry.”
Slater is shaking his head, but there’s amusement in his expression. The others are laughing, the tension breaking.
“You’re all terrible influences,” I mutter, standing up.
“We’re trying to make you better!” Mason calls after me.
This is spiraling. I retrieve my bag, already mentally preparing for another quick change, when I feel a hand on my back.
Not aggressive. Just… there. Firm. Stopping me.
“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?” a female voice demands.
I turn slowly, dread pooling in my stomach.
Nina from the café stands there, hands on her hips, those crystalline blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
