“Syl, what are you doing now, mate?” Luc groans, slumping back into the sofa.
I turn in Kaiden’s lap to face Sylvan, but he loops an arm around my waist to stop me moving off.
“Reading the comments,” Sylvan answers, eyes fixed on his screen as he comes to us, sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa.
“Don’t do that,” Val rumbles.
“But someone said it’s PackArden.” He sounds so disgusted it’s almost funny. His fingers keep moving. “I need to correct them.”
I shoot upright in Kaiden’s lap. “Syl, wait!” He looks up. “I didn’t use your pack name so you could stay anonymous.” Sylvan’s gaze drops, fingers moving again. My voice speeds up. “I don’t want the press hounding you, and think about your business—”
“He’s already seven replies deep,” Val says calmly, peering over Sylvan’s shoulder. “Eight… nine…”
I try to scramble to him, but Kaiden holds my waist in a concrete grip.
“Give it up, Ve,” Luc murmurs, kissing my cheek. “He’s not going to stop.”
I turn to him, eyes wide. “But you know what’ll happen next. You saw it happen to me—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kaiden says, hand gripping my jaw to tilt my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze above me. “I don’t care if we lose every client we have. You’ve just told the world you love us, Revea. You can’t expect us to sit back and not claim you as ours.”
Ours.
I like the sound of that.
Revea
It’s been three weeks since my heat. Three weeks since my declaration post went more viral than the initial footage. For a while, the crowd got bigger, the paparazzi louder. Headlines turned me into either a symbol or a scandal. Thankfully, my alpha’s business is fine. Seems the security world doesn’t care about who the alpha CEOs are courting.
Typical.
But now, everything is finally dying down and returning to some sense of normalcy. At least at the salon. The fake clients have been flushed out, and I have more time to focus on the things I love: hair, training, teaching, and my pack.
Because I’m still living at their house.
Temporarily.
Since my home address was leaked, even after Steve moved out early, it would never be safe to return. I spent time looking at some cute two-bed houses, several flats, and even arranged some viewings. But I never went to a single one, because it seems Sylvan moonlights as a structural engineer.
The roof of the first house was in ‘disrepair’, and the other could have asbestos. A background check into one landlord highlighted a financial irregularity thatcouldbe fraud. Another building had outdated fire suppression.
Apparently, nowhere in theentirecity, or even a few miles outside it, meets his standards.
So I’m still here. Temporarily. That word is doing an awful lot of heavy lifting, and it has been… perfect.
We spend the mornings laughing over breakfast, the evenings winding down from work, and every night has been spent in the nest.
Together.
Even though we’re together every day, it still took a monologue to convince them I don’t need all four at the salon. Now we’re back to Gary and Max. With a minimum of one of my alphas. Often two. With more visiting throughout the day.
It’s just until the crowd fully leaves.
Temporary.
It’s easier to call it temporary than admit how quickly they’ve become part of everything. And how much I love that.
Now it’s early evening, I’m sitting in my designated spot on the paved edge of the lush garden, in an oversized chair Sylvan specifically ordered for me. It rests on the area just outside the gym, by the glass bifolding doors, with a view of the surrounding forest. But I’m not looking at the forest. With my laptop on my lap, my focus drifts over the screen to the four shirtless, sweaty, grunting alphas who areliterallyheavy lifting.
