Chapter Eleven
DYLAN
It was twenty-four hours before I saw Caine again.
Not that I was keeping track.
He had urged me out of bed in that domineering tone of his, instructing me to get changed because we’d be leaving in ten minutes.
“To scope out nurseries for Minseo,” he’d said.
We’d argued—no surprises there. I’d barely adapted to Edith’s presence; I wasn’t ready to even consider trusting a group of strangers with my baby for hours a day after just getting her back.
Regardless of the fact it was only in preparation for the future and they wouldn’t be strangers by then.
I didn’t care about the specifics.
Caine was an unreasonable dick, as standard, saying if I didn’t take the offer of doing it together now, he’d delegate the task to one of his agents and he couldn’t guarantee their competency.
It was an idle threat. He was fussier than me, ten times over, and would never risk her safety—I’d acknowledge that much.
Plus, his team were all meticulously trained; they’d probably be way better equipped for planning out Minnie’s future than me.
Still, I’d reluctantly yielded. I didn’t want my fear or stubbornness to prevent me from getting any input at all.
He could easily have made all the decisions and fuck what I thought, but he was offering. I supposed.
Leaving my baby girl at home, however, had set me on edge.
I’d suggested we take her with us, but Caine had reminded me of her schedule—which I’d only just managed to painstakingly mould back into some semblance of normalcy—and I’d shelved the tiff for later.
Instead, once he’d left the room, giving me privacy to dress, I’d let tears drip down my face and reasoned with myself we’d only be gone a few hours.
She was much safer in a house surrounded by guards and security cameras than outside where nothing was familiar.
Plus, this was important. It was for her development, her growth, so I swallowed the lump in my throat as she’d wrapped her chubby arms around my neck and smacked a wet kiss on my cheek in goodbye.
Everything I did was for her.
Except, as the door beside me swung open and Brian prompted me out of the car with a polite head dip, it became clear we hadn’t arrived at a nursery.
To be fair, it should’ve dawned on me sooner, but car rides while I was trying to stifle my nervousness made me nauseous, so I could be forgiven for not taking in the scenery.
“I thought you said we were going to vet a nursery for Minnie?” I asked, trailing behind Caine through the underground car park. It had an appearance of exclusivity to it: clean and well-lit with named bays and cars all the same level of expensive as the one we’d been chauffeured in.
Definitely not a nursery location.
“I lied,” he said without a hint of remorse. He didn’t bother waiting for me to keep up, just stormed ahead with his hands in the pockets of his calf-length coat, the hem swishing with every long-legged stride. “You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”
“Where are we?”
“Since all your clothes are either holed or hanging off you—or both—we’re going shopping. For the sake of my reputation, if nothing else.”
I glanced down at my jeans—which had intentional rips at the knees—and scoffed. They fit perfectly fine. With a belt. “They’re supposed to have holes in them, you pretentious old fart.”
He ignored me. “You’ll officially be my omega in less than a week, you must look the part.”
“No.”
Caine paused in his tracks, and I had to dig my heels in to prevent charging into him. His back was stiff as he twisted to face me, eyebrow raised above his patch. “No?”
I stuck out my chin defiantly. “I’m not changing my style for you. Alpha or not. There was nothing in the contract to say I had to dress like an upper-class arsehole, and I didn’t leave my baby with the fucking nanny so you could live out some dress-up doll fantasy.”
“Style?” His eye raked listlessly over the whole of me, his scrutiny evident. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
I glared at him. In truth, my “style” was the product of hand-me-downs and charity shop specials, but what was the fault in that?
I bought whatever was cheap and wore it until it was rags.
Which to someone like him was clearly an abhorrent concept, but in my eyes, it was sustainable and practical regardless of whether I’d had a choice in the matter.
Sure, I wouldn’t mind some new outfits, since mine weren’t exactly flattering, but it was the principle.
I didn’t like being shamed for my circumstances.
Or being told what to do.
“Fuck you.”
“In the parking garage?” he deadpanned. “Well, aren’t you getting bold.”
I didn’t dignify him with a response, just crossed my arms over my chest and stared into his one bright green eye, refusing to let him win. ’Course, I should’ve known this far in exactly who I was dealing with, and how stupid it was to believe he’d give up so easily.
“Very well,” he said, and before I could even swerve his advance, he was crouching to my height, hooking an arm around my stomach and scooping me onto his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. My brain took a second to compute.
“What the—” I sputtered, squirming in his hold. “Put me down, you dick!”
My shout echoed off the concrete walls, but it landed on disinterested ears.
He carried on walking—marching, more like—each step nudging his shoulder against my hip bone, the discomfort no doubt a punishment for my insolence.
“Are you going to be a good little omega and behave?” he said, tone flat, devoid of the smugness he doubtlessly felt.
My face twisted with fury. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Then enjoy the ride.” He smacked my arse, making me yelp, and with a snarl, I beat at his back, legs kicking out to ensure the “ride” was as awkward as possible.
We reached the far end of the car park, pausing at a lift—I guessed from the hallmark ding and woosh that interrupted my drumming practice. He stepped inside, Raegan and Brian following, and only once the doors were closed did he set me down.
“Let me out,” I demanded, shoving at his chest for good measure, and though it wasn’t my particular tactic of choice—it was actually pretty subconscious, but whatever—I released a gust of persuasive omega pheromones. “I’m not going shopping with you, you stuck up, bastarding son of a—”
“Your scent projection won’t work.” He cut through my tirade, sounding bored. My cheeks heated with humiliation, and I clenched my fists, willing my glands to shrivel up and die. “But in the interest of my eardrums, I’ll make you a deal.”
The tension in me eased slightly, my curiosity piqued.
“No more fuss, and for every ‘upper-class arsehole’ outfit we buy, you can choose one to suit your preferences. Would that be agreeable?”
I let his proposal sink in, waiting for him to hit me with the fine print, but he said nothing else, and yeah, okay . . . those were pretty reasonable terms. Fair. Equal. Wouldn’t be letting him know it in so many words, though. “Couldn’t you have offered a compromise before manhandling me?”
“Where would be the fun in that?” he countered, and my gaze hardened in warning.
“Don’t do it again.”
“Is that a yes?”
I tore my eyes away from his arrogant face, staring at a gold speck on the wall.
It still bugged me being here and not with Minnie—anxiety and guilt had made themselves comfortable in my stomach, refusing to budge—but I doubted Caine would take me back even if I threw a tantrum or screamed at the top of my lungs.
He’d probably just gag and restrain me, to be honest, insistent on getting his own way, so this was the best of a shit situation. I guess I could choose to cooperate.
For now.
“It’s a fine,” I grumbled, smoothing out my T-shirt.
I could’ve sworn Brian smirked.
With a definitive nod, he signalled to Raegan, who reached out and pressed the only floor on the panel.
“Foresters” was all the button said, and I braced for the subtle belly swoop as we ascended.
The silence that stretched was heavy and awkward.
There wasn’t even any dull elevator music to fill the space, just .
. . dead quiet. I tucked my fingers into my sleeves to hide my fidgeting, not quite over my seething and refusing to let him see me squirm from something as simple as silence.
It was the longest ride of my fucking life.
When the doors finally opened with another classic elevator ding—thankfully loud enough to disguise my sigh of relief—they revealed a department store unlike any I’d ever seen.
Everything my eyes grazed over had to cost more than my life was worth.
The mannequins weren’t just plonked in the way and dressed in whatever looked decent, they were art, placed on pedestals, manipulated into elegant poses and draped with outfits belonging on a catwalk.
The walls and floors were a shade of blinding white, making me wonder if we’d crossed over to the other side, and there were pillars.
Stone bloody pillars like they had in Greek temples.
I mean, if the elevator’s cushioned walls, laced in gold trim, hadn’t been clue enough to the place’s level of sophistication, the chandelier in the centre of the room got the point across.
Was it odd to say it also smelled rich? A scent I’d begun associating with Caine.
I didn’t belong here.
A swarm of four betas weaved through the racks, lining up in front of Caine, the supreme leader.
They all dipped their heads gracefully, hands behind their backs, ready to offer their assistance.
They reminded me of swans, all dressed in white, their hair slicked back, and heads held high.
The red-haired woman at the top of the line stepped forward.
“Alpha Devereux, we’re pleased to have your patronage once again. How may we be of service to you today?”