Chapter 15 Emilio
Emilio
I didn’t mean to sleep nearly the entire day but apparently, my body needed it after everything that happened.
When I finally wake up, I find myself curled up on the lounge in my office, alone.
The scent of cedarwood clings to my clothes and to my skin, Liam’s scent surrounding me in a perfect little cocoon of warmth.
He must have held me longer than I thought, long enough for his scent to really sink in.
A little worry creeps in when I check the time.
Just after three in the afternoon. The bar officially opens in thirty minutes, which means I have very little time to change and get down there to make sure everything runs smoothly.
But this particular spot feels so fucking comfortable that I really don’t want to move.
I spend a few more minutes curled up like that before padding around for my phone.
No time to waste, I tell myself, groaning at the several notifications lighting up the screen.
Some of them are still referencing the pictures of me floating around and then there’s the post on the website addressing what happened last night.
Most likely Otto wrote something up and gave it to one of the bartenders to post.
Which means they’re looped in on what happened and hopefully on alert for this evening.
The comments beneath the post are less than gracious but I dismiss those, focusing on the rest of the notifications.
Otto: Everything has been taken care of for this evening, but we need to talk and strategize.
My heart sinks into my stomach. That means there are problems I don't know about yet and complications I'll have to deal with on top of everything else.
Scrolling down, I see another message. This one from Zaden.
Of course. He couldn't resist rubbing salt in the wound.
Tick tock reads the first one. Then another.
Tomorrow you lose. The smugness practically radiates through the screen, and I want to throw my phone across the room.
But breaking it won't solve anything. It'll just add one more thing to my list of problems.
A groan escapes me as I fully sit up, my body protesting the movement.
Everything aches in a way that's different from usual.
Not the soreness from last night, but a deeper exhaustion that seems to have settled into my bones.
I move toward my desk, needing to focus on something productive, the contract with Neon Dreams sitting in a folder, along with the information for the entertainment company I was going to reach out to next week about hiring a few more dancers.
That all feels so far away now. Like a dream I had about a different life, one where I wasn't fighting for my club's survival.
I flit through a few more papers, finding peace in tidying up a desk I rarely use.
My phone buzzes a few more times, all notifications from people I don’t really know throwing me their condolences or picking apart the pictures floating around.
I’ve dealt with worse so it doesn’t bother me, however, when Liam’s name flashes across the screen, I freeze.
Part of me wants to ignore it, to pretend I'm still asleep and deal with everything later.
But another part of me, a part I don't want to examine too closely, feels actually really happy that someone cares enough to check on me.
That someone noticed I might need help even when I'm too stubborn to ask for it.
"Yeah?"
"I debated a long time what to say or if I should call at all," Liam says, his voice warm even through the phone. "But how are you doing?"
The concern in his tone makes something in my chest soften.
But I can't let myself lean into it too much.
That's how I get hurt. That's how people start thinking they own me.
"We're not dating, Liam. I'm fine. The baby is fine.
Just some residual effects from the drug, okay?
Don't tell Akira. He got really weird yesterday. "
Liam laughs, the sound running down my spine and warming me up from the inside.
"Mili, he got weird because he's never seen the bad side of his drugs up close and personal like that.
We sell party drugs, not hardcore shit that gets you fucked up.
Sure, we know that not everyone uses responsibly, but that's the worst it's ever been, and he doesn't like feeling out of control. "
"Him and me both," I mutter, thinking about how my body betrayed me last night. How I had no choice but to give in to the heat, to let them take care of me because I couldn't do it myself.
"Right," Liam says, something shifting in his tone. "But I won't tell him, as long as you're okay. We'll see you tonight?"
"Yes," I manage to say. There's a pause, and then I add, "Thank you. For the cuddle." The words come out awkward, like I'm not used to expressing gratitude. Which I'm not. Gratitude implies debt, and debt gives people power over me.
"It's my pleasure," Liam muses, his voice taking on a more sultry tone. "You know I always loved that. Talk soon, pretty boy."
He hangs up, and I stare at my phone for a long moment. The doctor's words replay in my mind. I need to trust at least one Alpha. Being close to the baby's father is going to make everything smoother. My body will respond better, the pregnancy will be easier, and the stress won't hit as hard.
A strange inkling creeps into my head. If I told Liam, would he try to take over?
Would he use the baby as leverage to get control of the club, to insert himself into every aspect of my life?
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the paranoia.
But then I remember. Liam doesn't just sell party drugs.
He's also Akira's enforcer. And while he's always been soft with me, gentle in a way that makes me feel safe, it doesn't mean he'd stay that way if he knew I was pregnant with his baby.
Alphas change when there's a child involved.
They get possessive, territorial, and controlling–at least from my experience anyway.
The idea terrifies me enough that I shove it away and rush upstairs to change. Work is what I need. Getting dressed, getting back into my routine, proving to everyone that I'm fine. That I can handle this.
My closet greets me with rows of carefully chosen outfits, each one designed to make a statement.
Tonight, though, I want to feel a little pretty.
After everything that's happened, after feeling vulnerable and out of control, I need to reclaim some part of myself.
The part that loves being an Omega, that takes pride in how I look and how I move through the world.
A grin spreads across my face as I grab one of my favorite lingerie sets.
A soft rose-blush with black littered throughout, the colors vibrant and eye-catching–not that anyone will see it, but I will.
The fabric feels soft under my fingers, reminding me of nights when I let myself have a bit more fun and enjoyed my body.
I pull on the panties first, the extra lining slipping over the curve of my belly.
The fit is snug but comfortable, designed to accommodate the changes in my body without being obvious.
The knee-high tights come next, followed by the garters.
Each piece clicks into place with practiced ease, the ritual of getting dressed helping to center me.
Then I turn to stare at the mirror, and my eyes land on the final pieces.
The corset I used to wear before I got pregnant sits on the shelf, black lace and boning that used to cinch my waist into an hourglass.
I sigh, running my fingers along the intricate pattern.
It wouldn't fit now. The belly that's starting to show would make it impossible to lace up, and even if I could, it would feel hella uncomfortable.
Instead, I grab the lace camisole that matches the set.
The fabric is sheer enough to be suggestive but structured enough to provide some coverage.
I slip it on, adjusting the straps over my shoulders, and then I look in the mirror.
My cheeks rosy at this nearly naked form.
The panties hug my hips, the garters frame my thighs, and the camisole drapes over my chest in a way that's both elegant and sexy.
The rose brings out the warmth in my skin, and the black adds just enough edge to keep it from being too soft.
My mind wanders, suddenly, imagining Liam standing behind me in the mirror.
His chest presses against my back, his hands settling on my hips as he places a kiss to my cheek, his hands moving to caress my belly.
He’s admiring me in the mirror, telling me how beautiful I look, how perfect.
The image is so vivid it makes my breath catch.
Then, all of a sudden, it switches. Akira replaces Liam in the fantasy. His hands are rougher, his touch more demanding but the look in his eyes is the same. Possessive, protective, hungry. His scent of whiskey and citrus fills my imagination, mixing with the phantom feeling of his lips on my neck.
A grunt escapes me, and I shake my head hard enough to make myself dizzy. "How stupid is that," I mutter out loud. "I don't have any feelings for Akira. Liam makes sense, but Akira?"
Liam I've been sleeping with for months.
Liam who holds me after sex, who purrs to calm me down, who checks on me when I'm stressed.
That makes sense. That follows a logical progression.
But Akira? One night. One heat spike that wasn't even my choice.
And now I'm imagining him touching me, looking at me like I'm something precious. It's ridiculous.
But the image won't leave my head. The way he looked at me last night, the intensity in his eyes. The way he got angry on my behalf when he found out someone had drugged me.
Desperate for a distraction, I pull out my phone.
This is stupid, I know it's stupid, but I need to talk to someone who isn't directly involved in my life.
Someone who can give me perspective without judgment.
I open the group forum, the chat room where ClassyO exists separate from Emilio Ardyn, club owner and pregnant Omega, trying to hold his life together.
My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before I type.
ClassyO: What does it mean when you start seeing an Alpha everywhere but he's not really there?
The responses start immediately. Lots of them start typing, the three dots appearing and disappearing as they craft their answers.
Razorfox: Who's the lucky Alpha?
MacNCheese: Are you seeing hallucinations or fantasies? Because those are wildly two different things. Several laugh emojis are added after that.
Coolblue: ClassyO, I think you're in love.
No. Absolutely not. I type back quickly, my thumbs moving fast. I'm not and it's a problem. We had sex, and it doesn't mean anything but…
The sentence trails off because I don't know how to finish it. I'm not sure if I'm looking for someone to agree with me or tell me something I already suspect. Maybe both. Maybe neither.
Strawberrybubbles: That usually means your body has already decided for you. I didn't imagine my Alphas when we weren’t together, not really, but even when I was telling myself I wasn't enough, I'd lean into their touch or look for them.
How many times have I found myself thinking about Liam when he's not around? How many times have I caught myself looking for him in a crowd? And now Akira is starting to creep into those thoughts too.
Razorfox: Why are you asking? Did you find an Alpha worthy of your standards?
My lip catches between my teeth as I debate whether to tell them.
These people know me as ClassyO, the username I created when I was eighteen.
They know my struggles, my fears, my victories.
But they don't know the full extent of what I'm dealing with.
Still, the anonymity makes it easier to be honest.
ClassyO: He's the father.
The weight lifts off my shoulders the moment I hit send. Admitting it, even to strangers on the internet, makes it more real. Makes it something I can't ignore or pretend isn't true. I add more to that statement, the words flowing now that I've started.
ClassyO: It was never meant to be him, but it is and I can't tell him because I don't know what he'll do. They always want to take over.
CoolBlue: You have to tell him! He'll find out when the kid's born anyway. Babies tend to smell similar to their parents until they come into their own scent.
My hands start shaking as I process what that means. I quickly type back, I'll think about it, and shove my phone into my pants. But the damage is done. The truth I've been avoiding crashes down on me all at once.
Standing at the window, I stare out at the city below.
People walk the streets, living their normal lives, completely unaware of the crisis happening in my apartment.
All of my careful planning to be a father is about to go up in flames.
I don't have a scent, which means the baby will absolutely take on some part of Liam's.
Liam will know the moment he meets him. There will be no hiding it, no pretending the father is someone else.
"I have to tell him, don't I?" I ask out loud to the empty room.
No matter how much I want to do this alone, no matter how hard I've worked to maintain my independence, biology won't let me keep this secret. Liam will find out. And when he does, how will he react? Will he be happy? Angry? Will he try to take the baby from me? Will he use it to control me?
I flop back onto the bed, my carefully chosen outfit to cover the lingerie wrinkling beneath me.
My body curls up in a small ball, instinct making me want to protect myself and the baby.
The panic rises in my chest again, that same suffocating feeling from earlier.
But this time, there's no Liam here to purr and calm me down.
Just me and my thoughts and the impossible situation I've created.
"I can fix this," I repeat to myself, the words becoming a mantra. "I can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix this."
But even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe it anymore.