36. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mavren
E verybody is so exhausted from the dramatic events of the afternoon that we opt to have dinner in the villa; all of us sharing room service dishes family style, and nursing our shot adrenal systems back to health.
We take regular breaks from packing to lay in the sunken nest bed, Ronan and Ash purring at full blast—Lysander sedating us with his dreamy chamomile-lavender-spearmint scent.
Though I can understand the motivation behind why Lysander asked Ursula about Redthorn and our taking up residence there for the trial heat; I’d be lying if I said it didn’t burn me, that he didn’t at least warn the rest of us. Though, after meeting some of the other contestants from the show yesterday; and if we’re being totally honest, after Teddy’s little soul-searching session—I’m starting to understand why.
Lysander—who clearly stands to inherit quite a large amount of generational wealth at some point, has been reluctant to share the details of his…situation.
More than once of the other omegas and members of their packs had referred to him as the “trust fund kid” or “awkward little rich boy.” Which doesn’t even take into account the fact that more than a few of those omegas gave off distinctly ‘gold digging’ vibes.
Even with all of the soft touch, slow pacing—things are still noticeably ‘off’ by the time we wake the next morning and load into the sprinter van with Timmy and Kimmy, bound for the airport and a direct non-stop flight back to LA.
Teddy’s confession, though incredibly heartfelt and doubly credible…still feels somehow incomplete. Why, I’m not sure. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but my gut tells me that we still haven’t heard the full and complete truth.
I feel it most when we catch one another’s gaze, be it while chatting—exchanging kisses with Ursula, or passing in the narrow aisle of the airplane on the way to the bathroom. Something is up, even if what we have heard from Teddy is the real deal—something tells me that it isn’t the whole story.
We arrive at LAX in the late afternoon, collecting our massive passel of luggage before hauling our spoils to the sidewalk.
I’ve been so used to Timmy and Kimmy and the ubiquitous white sprinter vans, that I completely miss the young woman standing on the curb in front of a black stretch limousine—her black felt car coat sharply tailored, a cap and dark sunglasses adding to her inscrutable air.
“Welcome back to Los Angeles, Mr. Ewing,” she greets Lysander, opening the door for him before moving to the trunk of the limo to begin loading our luggage.
“Thank you, Emily.” Lysander and his Chauffeur exchange a genial shaking of hands, her icy features melting into a smile.
As if she’s only just remembered there are five more of us—Emily scrabbles back up onto the curb, taking Ursula’s valise and train case before Ursula can heft them into the back herself.
“Please, Miss Ursula, let me.” Emily makes short work of packing away the luggage before offering Ursula her arm—guiding her through the open car door and into Lysander’s waiting arms on the black leather bench seat inside.
Emily refuses help from Ronan, Ash, or I, so we crawl into the limo; the interior redolent with the scent of high quality leather, expensive after shave and cigar smoke of riders past, filling the small space with the rich smell of wealthy men.
“Should I call ahead to Berthold and have him start an early supper?” Emily asks Lysander as she settles herself into the driver’s seat—the partition still down for the moment.
“That would be lovely, Emily,” Lysander sighs—one arm around Ursula’s shoulder—his other hand resting over Teddy’s knee.
“Of course, Mr. Ewing.” She nods to him through the reflection in the rear view mirror before raising the plexiglass partition between her and the rest of the limo.
“Damn.” Teddy shakes his head as we pull away from the airport pickup loop. “I didn’t realize you were like… Ritchie-Rich loaded.”
I can see Lysander squirm a bit at this.
“Well, it’s not his yet—right?” Ash interjects, looking to Lysander for confirmation as he leans forward and begins procuring himself something to drink from the small cooler drawer under the in-limo bar setup—clearly more at home in the trappings of the rich and famous than the rest of us, a credit to his years living as KR3OSOTE. “According to Ian, Britt and Suzi had been casually-not-so-casually asking money related questions on their dates,” Ash continues, cracking open a can of ginger ale and splitting it between two small tumblers before passing one to Ursula. “She had really hammered him on inheritance questions—which had tipped him off to her interest in Lysander’s money, as well as his potential competition for richest dude in the bubbles.” Ash shakes his head disapprovingly, his septum piercing clicking gently against the glass as he takes a swig of his ginger ale.
Lysander’s smile is uncomfortable, but his voice is even as he ventures to ask, “So what was old Ian’s final assessment? Who came out as top pick for the gold diggers?”
“While you were bet on to have a larger bank account—access to it, contingent upon keeping your rich parents happy and their judgment of your fitness to inherit their massive fortune…that was not a given,” Ash winces, suddenly realizing that Lysander may not have found this conversation as amusing as he did.
“Hey—can I be a bit of a bitch and make a special request?” Ursula bats her lashes innocently, taking a sip of her ginger ale.
“Of course!” all of us begin to answer, overlapping one another—the bunch of us eager to please, to find some sense of normalcy after the emotional turbulence of the last 24 hours.
“Can we just forget about the other people on this show and focus on getting through the next few days?” Her smile is bright, but trembling. “I know that there’s all sorts of drama swirling around—but I hate to remind you that this is going to be my first heat, and I’m more than a little scared about how things are going to go,” Ursula admits, her voice becoming smaller and smaller until she just falls silent.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Teddy reassures her, reaching across Lysander’s lap to squeeze Ursula’s thigh. “A bunch of us have a good amount of experience—and it’s Lysander’s first time too.” Teddy’s hand moves from Urusula’s thigh to Lysander’s knee.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you my best, too,” Lysander adds hurriedly—looking desperately to Ursula, who pecks a kiss onto his nose to comfort him.
“Of course not,” Ursula chirps sweetly, turning on the bench seat to offer her outstretched arm. “I know all of you will take care of me—but all this talk about the other girls and guys, about the jockeying for money and attention,” Ursula sighs. “We’re going to have our hands full handling our day-to-day lives—meeting each other’s families and all of that before they induce the heat.” Her smile wavers, concern putting deep lines between her dark brows. “I know that we’re going to go through some stuff over the course of our lives together if we decide to bite into a pack together…but this feels artificially unmanageable at times, if that makes sense?”
“It makes a lot of sense, I feel the exact same way,” I encourage Ursula. “I, for one, am really stressed out about what my work-life balance is going to look like,” I admit, my pride taking a blow even if I can breathe just a tiny bit easier for having made this small confession.
“Well, that’s what this is all about.” Ronan brings his hands together in a slow motion clap, his quartz eyes taking a turn about the limo—resting upon each of us one by one. “We figure out if this actually works. I speak only for myself—but I’m very invested in making this work, whichever way I can,” he adds with finality.
***
The limo pulls through a set of huge iron gates and up to the front entrance of Redthorn, the secondary estate of the Ewing family—originally meant to serve as the Ewing heir’s omega nesting dowry, or his pack’s home base—were he to be designated as an alpha.
Since Lysander ended up a theta who most certainly hadn’t stepped into his father’s shoes as a real estate investor; Redthorn’s future seemed somewhat uncertain. While Lysander had spoken very little of the estate by name before proposing that we use it as our nest for Ursula’s first heat, he hadn’t mentioned any other residence—so this must be his home? I had assumed he lived in some sort of luxurious domicile—though admittedly I had just assumed that meant an apartment off West 12th–not far from the gallery he co-owns, or possibly some insanely posh home in La Crescenta where he rests his head in between trips around the globe to acquire and sell eye-wateringly-expensive works of art. I hadn’t known that places like this existed so close to LA; spires of red brick and black slate roofs appearing from rolling green, rose gardens thick with blossoms, and expertly tended hedge mazes like some mystic English manor country house.
“Welcome to Redthorn, Mr. Rendard,” Emily re-greets me as she opens the door to the limo—emptying me out onto the flagstone walkway to the front doors.
“Holy shit…” Teddy mutters under his breath, stumbling up onto the walkway beside me. “I feel like I’m going to get hassled by security if I try to walk in there, he mumbles out of the side of his mouth, giving me a meaningful look.
“Tch, you’re telling me.” I glare at him, knowing all too well exactly what Teddy means.
“Woah,” Ursula breathes —her citrine eyes looking up and down the Queen Anne Victorian mansion in all of its glory.
“Pretty impressive, eh Princess?” Teddy leans over and places a kiss on her cheek.
“Y’know Teddy…I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that nickname was totally appropriate until this moment.” She shakes her head in disbelief as Lysander, Ash, and Ronan help Emily shuffle our luggage up onto the walkway.
I’m about to reach for one of the impressive brass handles of the double wooden doors; elaborately carved with bunches of oaken grapes and fans of carefully crafted fig leaves, but a pair of young men burst through the open doors, their identical faces and ash blond coifs giving the impression of seeing double however briefly.
“Welcome home Mr. Ewing!” they offer their salutations in unison—hurrying forward to collect the luggage from Lysander’s hands before splitting off to greet the rest of us, another young woman bringing up the rear with a large brass luggage trolley like the kind you’d see in a fancy hotel.
“Leo and Ascher, would you mind getting our guests in and settled? I have a call I need to take.” Lysander frowns at the screen of his smartphone, ushering Emily past him so that she can pile the trolly high with our belongings.
Damn, not even past the property tour and already Lysander is back at work. Maybe this will make me look like less of a work-a-holic by comparison. A toxic thought, sure, but an honest one all the same.
“Of course, sir,” the pair reply in eerie unison.
“I promise to be quick.” Lysander hooks an arm around Ursula’s waist, pulling her in for a kiss. “My business partner and best friend Tasha is coming for dinner with her wife—and she’ll turn me inside out if I don’t take care of this little work situation before I see her tonight,” he explains, before deftly excusing himself: “Leo and Ascher will show you around, gimme like half an hour max.” Leaving us in the capable hands of the somewhat creepy twin house staff.
As it so happened, Lysander ended up taking far longer than a half an hour.
Leo and his twin Ascher escorted us through the grand salon, the reading room, the library, the guest rooms, the two massive bathrooms outside of the nest wing, the ballroom with its vast, sparkling parquet floors and elaborate gold-trimmed walls—the wall of French doors leading to the west terrace, drawn with lace curtains to help soften the blaze of the midday sun.
Ursula actually squealed aloud when we were trotted into the massive east wing; the entire side of the mansion dedicated to the omega nest, nursery, children’s and playroom for our future family.
The nest itself, a massive bower of silk velvet, French linen, and creamy mulberry silk, rendered in shades of blue; tiny pinpricks of light emitted from fiber optic lights installed in the dark blue plaster swirled on ceiling like starlight—a chandelier fashioned to resemble the phases of the moon—a perfect golden crescent dangling from its center overhead.
Nearly twenty feet in diameter, the titanic circular bed at the center of the space will more than certainly fit all of us comfortably; it’s cerulean satin duvet cover shimmering like a flat pond under the lights until Ronan belly flops into the center with a triumphant whoop.
“Somehow this is even nicer than the fucking luxury villa we just left,” he marvels—rolling over and patting the space beside him with an open hand.
Ursula drops her purse and jumps—arms and legs out like a starfish, onto the bed next to him.
“Oh my god, this is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever touched in my life,” she moans with delight, sweeping her arms and legs up and down as she lays on her back—as if making a snow angel in the satin duvet.
As I watch them—I think about the walk home from Pomme Verte; I could walk down 3rd all the way past St. Brendan’s or shoot down 6th—pick up kimbap onigiri for a 2AM snack at the 24hr konbini on Kingsley.
I could take my bike, no need to get a car; I’d sell my place, look into that spot on Hobart that Ash and Lysander mentioned.
As much as I’ve been looking for excuses—I’m finding it hard to talk myself out of this.
“Um, what in the serial killer bullshit is that!?” Teddy bursts out—his forehead pressed against the huge circular plate glass window at the far end of the room.
The nearly ten feet in diameter circular window had been covered with two layers of curtains when the twins deposited us in the nesting room; a dove grey chiffon layered over with heavy navy velvet—studded with white crystal stars.
Baffled by his sudden outburst, not being able to see anything from this angle—the blackout curtains having been drawn as we entered the room.
“Oh…uh, yeah, that does look somewhat concerning.” Ash squirms slightly over Teddy’s shoulder, only adding to my curiosity.
“What—is there some kind of effigy or private cemetery out back?” I scoff—sidling up to the window.
My breath catches and my stomach lifts as if I’m riding the viking ship at the carnival—the momentary weightlessness before the ship swings two and fro from its highest point.
It’s not blood, that can’t be blood—it wouldn’t be so…red. I have to tell myself as I look down at the massive rectangular swimming pool and attached hot tub below—an alarming shade of scarlet rather than the usual aquamarine or deep azure.
“Dad had strange tastes, that’s for sure.”
The sound of Lysander’s voice practically in my ear almost makes me jump.
“The red tile really makes it look like Dracula designed the pool area,” he sighs, before offering—“If everyone hates it, we can always change it—I just never really considered it a priority, living here by myself.”
Ursula, having gotten up to see what all the fuss was about, looks down at the pool with discernable trepidation.
“I mean, I love red and everything…but this might be a little much.” She gives a gentle shudder. “Can’t wait to meet dear old dad…hopefully he and I can connect over our shared favorite color,” she laughs, reaching for Lysander.
I’m not sure if I imagine a worried tic of Lysander’s eyelid at the mention of his father, but he’s quick to change the subject all the same.
“Sorry the call took so long,” he apologizes. “I was also detained by our dear Timothy and Kimberly stopped me to deliver the schedule for the rest of the week.” He raises his brows, his hands clasped together as he continues on, his smile tentative—the camera crew struggling to frame Lysander in shot without the rest of us. “Tomorrow evening we’ll be having a dinner with all of the families”, Lysander takes a moment to pause, his care to avoid highlighting whose family members would or would not be there—barreling onward. “Production decided to double dip, so we’ll be having a private supper with everyone at Mavren’s restaurant—where we’ll have a chance to meet his sister along with the members of her pack before the final mixer, where we will get to see everyone who didn’t make it to Costa Rica and to announce our chosen pack names before we head into the trial heat.” He beams, though all of us are keenly aware that he’s neglected to mention when we will be meeting his family. “After the heat, is the bonding ceremony and the reveal of our choice to bite in or not.” Lysander adds with finality.
“What about your parents?” Ursula presses curiously.
Lysander swallows hard, his head nodding in a seasick un-rhythm—as if this is an expected but still dreaded question.
“I had planned to take you to see them tomorrow morning, if that’s alright,” he says tightly.
Ronan and I exchange a look, unsure of why Lysander’s parents won’t be attending dinner at Pomme Verte along with the others…but say nothing.
“Of course—I know things with your father have been…tense in the past. I can understand if a sit down dinner in front of cameras was a little too much to ask of that situation,” Ursula croons, resting her head on Lysander’s shoulder.
“Oh,” Lysander lets slip, a gallows laugh. “You have no idea.”