Page 159 of Knot Their Starlet

These are certainly interesting pack dynamics.

Because I’m sure that’s what this is.

Even if they haven’t made things official, it’s one of those situations where the writing is on the wall.

“So, do you have one?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“I do. I’ll bring it.”

“Great,” she says. The tension in her expression eases a little when I don’t argue with her.

The rest of the afternoon passes like that: me bringing up suggestions for what I think should be included, them approving or denying ideas and including feedback of their own, all while I act as a passive observer to their dynamics.

Their very intimate and familiar dynamics.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Beck groans.

“Chinese?” Elijah asks, his hand landing on his shoulder in a way that seems... rather close. But they are childhood friends, so maybe that’s just the dynamic of their relationship.

“Let’s do it,” Beck nods eagerly. “Here, do we have a group chat with everyone? I’ll send the menu there and we can hammer out everyone’s orders.”

And that’s how I get added to a group chat with Hollywood’s biggest male omega star, his entire team, and a nepo-baby influencer I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from.

“I can leave. I’ve got more than enough for a proposal,” I offer, shutting my laptop. “I can finish it from home.”

“Stay,” Everett offers. Well, from him it’s more of a command. “You can send your proposal after dinner.”

Who am I to argue with a free meal?

“Okay, thanks. Before I get working on that, where’s the bathroom?” I push myself to my feet, stretching a little.

Leo shows me the way to the bathroom down the hall.

When I open the door once I’m done, my steps falter. I blink down at Andromeda, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Do you... need the bathroom?” My brows are drawn down in confusion.

“Nope. I wanted to talk to you.”

I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu. It’s strange how such a small omega can make me feel so off-kilter. She’s right. She truly is nothing like I would’ve expected her to be.

Throughout our entire conversation, she was supportive, for the most part. She spoke up only when she knew she had something of value to contribute. Didn’t talk just to talk, like I’ve found a lot of people like her do.

Well, I guess technically not people like her since she’s nothing like the average out of touch nepo-baby.

“What about?” I ask warily.

“I want to help.”

I just blink at her.

“With the docuseries,” she continues, not deterred by my silence.

“You. You want to help?” I say, parroting her words back at her.

“That’s what I said,” she huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Look, I know it seems like you know your way around a camera, but I already have a camera person.”