Chapter 36
thirty-six
KITANIA
Five months later…
I took a hesitant step forward, fingers laced tightly with Dimitri’s, as I stumbled slightly. The silk blindfold pressed against my eyelids plunged me into darkness, and I couldn’t see a thing.
A warm spring breeze caught the hem of my sundress, swirling it around my thighs as the sounds of the city—distant horns, murmured conversations, the rhythmic tap of my sandals against the pavement—created a chaotic melody. My heart fluttered with nervous excitement. For weeks, they’d traded secretive glances when they thought I wasn’t looking, their hushed conversations ending the second I walked into the room.
“Easy, Kitten,” Dimitri murmured, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine as his thumb stroked reassuringly across my knuckles. “Trust me.”
“I do,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But I’d trust you more if I could see where we’re going.”
A chorus of male chuckles surrounded me, warm like sunshine, thick like honey.
“That would ruin the surprise, Butterfly,” Tommy commented from somewhere to my right, his playful voice closer than I’d realized. His fingers lightly brushed against my arm, a casual touch that still managed to send tingles through me.
“You guys know I hate surprises,” I reminded them, but there was no real heat in my words. The truth was, I’d learned to love their surprises—whether it was breakfast in bed or spontaneous weekend getaways. Each surprise had slowly chipped away at my ingrained fear of the unexpected.
“You hate bad surprises,” Gio corrected gruffly from behind me, his large hand settling protectively at the small of my back. “This is a good one. Promise.”
I heard the jangle of Beretta’s collar to my left as he pulled at his leash, followed by Marco’s gentle directive.
“Slow down, boy. Kit can’t walk that fast when she can’t see where she’s going.”
Angling toward where I thought he was, I tried to appeal to his Alpha nature since he was usually the caretaker of our group. “Is the blindfold really necessary?”
“Yes,” came four replies, Marco’s included.
“It’ll be worth it, Angel,” he promised. His familiar scent was heightened with an anxious kind of excitement, and I could feel his smile through the bond.
I laughed, then sighed, resigned. “Can someone please tell me where we’re going? Or at least how much farther?”
“Just a few more steps, Butterfly,” Tommy whispered, his breath warm against my ear as he slid his hand into my free one. “Almost there.”
We walked a bit farther, the sounds of traffic growing more distant. The air changed subtly—we’d turned onto a quieter street. I could smell fresh paint and polish, the scent of newness mingling with something sweet and familiar that I couldn’t quite place. My heart began to race, anticipation building with each step.
Finally, Dimitri stopped, bringing me to a halt alongside him. His hands moved to my shoulders, turning me gently to face what I assumed was our destination.
“Ready?” he rumbled.
I nodded, suddenly breathless.
His fingers worked at the knot of my blindfold, and slowly, the silk slipped away. I blinked against the sudden brightness, the world coming into focus in degrees—first shapes, then colors, then details.
A storefront stood before me, freshly painted in crisp white with gold trim. Large windows gleamed in the morning sun, and behind the spotless glass, soft blush walls and elegant furnishings beckoned. But what made my heart stop, what made my hands fly to my mouth in shock, was the sign hanging above the door—a beautiful, hand-lettered sign with delicate gold flourishes that read “Sweet as Sin.”
My bakery name. The name I’d whispered to Marco one night, tucked against his chest, thinking it was just a dream, just an unrealistic fantasy.
“Surprise,” Marco grinned, his blue eyes dancing with delight as he gauged my reaction. “You’re officially a business owner.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending, then looked back at the storefront. “What?” The word came out breathless—barely formed and full of disbelief.
“It’s yours, Kit,” Dimitri said simply, like he hadn’t just handed me the moon and stars. “All of it.”
“Mine?” I echoed, my brain struggling to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. “But... how? When did you—”
“We’ve been working on it for months,” Tommy explained, bouncing on his toes with barely contained excitement. “Since that night you made us those chocolate hazelnut things and said you wished everyone could try them.”
“Financiers,” I corrected automatically, then shook my head in disbelief. “You remembered that?”
Gio’s arm slid around my waist, anchoring me as my knees threatened to give way. “We remember everything you say, Sweetness.”
I shook my head, still trying to convince myself this was real while taking in the full view of the storefront. The windows were framed with delicate gold accents that caught the sunlight, gleaming and warm, like a fairytale come to life. A beautiful seating area was visible through the glass—teal velvet chairs and marble-topped tables, just like I’d described once while flipping through a design magazine.
“Want to see inside?” Marco asked, though he already knew the answer.
I nodded wordlessly, and Dimitri pressed something cool and metallic into my palm. Looking down, I saw a set of keys tied with a pink satin ribbon. Pretty golden keys to a door that had my logo etched in elegant script across the glass.
“Go on,” Tommy urged, giving me a gentle nudge forward. “Open it.”
My hands shook so badly that Gio had to guide my fingers, helping me fit the key into the lock. The door swung open with a musical chime, and the scent of fresh paint, polished wood, and sugar enveloped me.
Beretta darted inside first, nub wagging excitedly as Marco dropped the leash and gave him full rein.
I followed after him, my sandals clicking against the pristine white tile floors. The interior was even more beautiful than I’d imagined—soft blush walls, exposed brick on one side, pale wooden shelves lined with knick knacks and antique bakeware for decoration. A chalkboard menu hung behind a gleaming counter, already filled with my signature recipes in artful handwriting. The display case was empty but spotless, waiting to be filled with my creations.
And there, in the corner, a large booth upholstered in teal leather, big enough for the four of them—a reserved sign in the center.
“For us,” Tommy explained, following my gaze. “So we always have somewhere to sit when we come visit you.”
“Come see the kitchen,” Marco urged, taking my hand and pulling me gently toward the back.
I followed in a daze, hardly believing what I was seeing. The kitchen that awaited me was a baker’s paradise. Stainless steel countertops gleamed under the lights. Professional-grade mixers and ovens lined the walls. And in the center stood a massive marble-topped island for rolling dough. Everything was state-of-the-art, from the proofing cabinet to the industrial refrigerator.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, running my fingertips over the cool marble. “This is... incredible.”
“Only the best for our Omega.” Dimitri watched me from the doorway, his expression softer than usual.
I turned slowly, taking it all in. “But—” I hesitated, reality crashing through my euphoria. “Omegas aren’t allowed to own businesses. The licensing alone would’ve been a nightmare, not to mention the property laws. How did you—”
Dimitri shrugged casually, as if he were discussing the weather rather than bending laws that had existed for decades. “I called in a favor with the governor,” he said simply. “Technically, the business license is in my name, but the contracts, the brand, the creative—it’s all yours. Your vision. Your bakery. No one will question it, and if they do...” His voice darkened slightly, his Alpha presence filling the room. “They’ll wish they hadn’t.”
I stared at the keys still clutched in my hand, understanding dawning. Legalities didn’t matter. Not when I knew what this really was. This wasn’t just a business—it was freedom, autonomy, a chance to create something that was mine in a world where Omegas owned nothing.
“I can’t believe it,” I whispered. “It feels like a dream.”
“It’s all yours, Kitten. And very much real,” D promised, stepping closer to brush a stray tear from my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
Looking around, it hit me all at once—how much thought, how much love had been poured into every inch of this place. The creamy blush walls matched the exact shade I’d pointed out in a magazine months ago. The soft gold accents echoed the cabinet hardware I loved in our kitchen at home. The signage matched the font I’d shown Dimitri half-asleep on the couch one night, mumbling about how much I loved the curling letters.
Tommy had spent weeks subtly asking about layout ideas under the guise of “what would make baking easier?” Gio had clearly been taking mental notes on my favorite recipes—my signature almond croissants and lemon raspberry bars were already printed on the menu. And Marco, that sneaky Alpha, had gotten my dream bakery name out of me during pillow talk, murmured into his neck while I was sated and languid, when I didn’t think he was really listening.
But they’d all been listening. Plotting. Building me a dream I hadn’t even dared to chase.
My hand shook so badly that the keys jingled, and Gio wrapped a steady arm around my waist, pulling me against the solid warmth of his chest. “Breathe, Sweetness,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple.
Tommy crossed to my other side, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Is it okay? We can change anything you don’t like.”
“Don’t like?” I repeated, disbelieving. “It’s perfect. Every single inch of it is perfect.”
Marco grabbed his phone from his pocket, snapping a picture of me caught between laughing and crying, surrounded by my Alphas in my very own bakery. “For the memory book,” he explained with a wink.
“We open next week,” D added casually, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just upended my entire world in the best possible way. “Everything’s ready. Health code. Business license. Permits. Kitchen’s stocked. Staff hired.”
“All taken care of,” Gio confirmed, voice low and warm as he gestured around the kitchen. “You just show up and bake.”
I stood in stunned silence, trying to process the magnitude of what they’d done. They hadn’t just given me a bakery; they’d given me purpose, identity beyond simply being their Omega. They’d given me something that was mine alone, while simultaneously showing me how deeply they understood me, how carefully they’d listened to every word I’d ever whispered.
Heart in my throat, I walked slowly back behind the counter, running my fingers over the smooth surface, then grazing along the keys of the brand-new cash register. A stack of crisp, white to-go boxes waited beneath the shelves, each embossed with the “Sweet as Sin” logo in that same delicate gold lettering. And there, hanging on a brass hook, was an apron with my name embroidered in elegant script, as if it had always belonged there.
I reached out and smoothed the fabric, tracing the letters of my name. Mine. Something that was mine in a world that had never let me own anything before.
A sudden bark caught my attention, and I turned to see Beretta trotting through the bakery, butt wagging. He gave another excited bark, then flopped dramatically in front of the register, rolling onto his back as if he owned the place. The Doberman looked up at me expectantly, clearly waiting for belly rubs in his new kingdom. Or perhaps the little dog bones I’d taken to making him as an extra daily treat for being such a good boy.
I laughed through happy tears and looked back at my mates, clutching the keys in my hand against my heart. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to say thank you.”
Gio crossed to me first, his large hands cupping my cheeks as he kissed me slow and sweet, tasting of coffee and something uniquely him. “You already have, Sweetness,” he murmured against my lips. “Every day.”
Tommy was next, wrapping me up in a bear hug that lifted me clear off the ground. He spun me once before setting me down, kissing my nose, then my forehead in that playful way of his. “Seeing you happy’s all I’ve ever needed,” he promised, green eyes sparkling.
Marco slid in behind me, strong arms snaking around my waist, lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “But cupcakes don’t hurt.”
I turned in his arms, smiling up at him before popping onto my toes and giving him a kiss sweeter than sugar.
Then I looked to Dimitri. He approached last, as was his way—observing, calculating, making sure everyone else had their moment before taking his. He stepped close, one hand coming up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear.
“Are you happy, Kitten?” His dark eyes studied mine intently.
“Yes.” I covered his hand with mine. “But I was happy before this surprise. I love you, D. This is just icing on the cake.”
He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Fuck, Kitten.” He leaned down, claiming my lips in a kiss that made my toes curl and my heart race.
When we broke apart, Gio leaned against the counter, studying the empty display cases. “So, what are you going to bake first?”
My lips curved, and I felt more confident and certain than I had in years. “I think I’ll start by making cupcakes inspired by each of you,” I teased, resting my hands on my hips.
“Better make D’s extra dark and moody,” Tommy teased with a smirk, dodging the swat Dimitri aimed at his shoulder.
“With an ooey gooey middle,” Gio piled on, not missing a beat, then tossing me a wink.
“Funny,” D drawled, dry and amused, as he looked at Gio with a raised brow. “I thought that was you .”
Laughter echoed through the bakery, bright and full and free. It bounced off the freshly painted walls, filling every corner, christening the space with joy before the first batch of cookies ever hit the oven.
I glanced out the window with a soft smile, watching potential customers strolling by, already dreaming up new recipes as sunlight spilled across the floor, warming everything it touched. I could see my future laid out before me, sweet and rich and full of possibilities.
And when I turned back toward the men who made it all possible, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Home wasn’t just a place anymore. It was this. Them. All of it.
It was messy, warm, and a little chaotic—but so was baking. So was love.
And as long as we were together, I knew we’d always come out golden.
Because life with my pack? It wasn’t just good…
It was baked to perfection.