Episode 25 Glass Slippers Optional
The production staff announces our next challenge the morning after the talent show before the elimination ceremony.
Given that it's the ‘plan a date for the pack,’ challenge, it makes sense. Gives us omegas a chance to demand the things we need from the crew and gives them time to deliver it.
Thankfully, my date doesn’t require much.
Not like some of the other omegas, who are asking for limos, and caviar and actual champagne from France and not just bubbly white wine.
Haven prepared me for this challenge, like she did everything else.
Which is why I’m not the least bit surprised when Lulu tells us the omegas need to give the pack a gift too.
I’ve already got that finished. Had it finished within the first week of being here.
So the only other thing I need to do is have a conversation with Piers to nail down the last few details.
I find him, as always, lingering on the fringes of the pack. Eyes latched onto them with an intensity and longing that I understand all too well.
It still pisses me off that they think it's okay to treat him like this, even more that he allows it.
But the most I can do is show them it doesn’t have to be this way. Give them a night where Piers is as integral as the rest of the pack.
I said my goodbye to them last night, during the talent show. I’m not sure they realized it, but my choice of music and dance was very intentional.
Adagio from Giselle Act II is a pas de deux. It comes after Giselle has died, and it's her way of forgiving her lover’s betrayal, of saying goodbye to him. Dancing it alone was poignant, and emotional and I couldn’t stop my tears from falling.
From grieving.
But it's done, now.
This is done.
And so my plan for my date is to include Piers as much as I can and make it about him. About them.
As I approach the pack, clutching a notebook and a pen in my hands, the beta’s eyes snap in my direction, a smile already warming his face. “Little bird.” He sounds so happy to see me, so glad that I’m approaching him, it makes my heart clench.
The rest of the pack looks up from the omegas scattered around them, eyes latching on to me, but I mostly ignore them. I’m still not totally over the whole kissing challenge thing. Still hurting from what they did.
“Piers.” I greet him with my best smile. The omegas titter like I’m making some kind of faux pas. But I’m beyond caring.
The beta gives me a pointed look, tilting his head toward his pack. I sigh, turning to face them, tipping my chin in the barest of acknowledgments. “Highness. My lords.”
“Hey, Bubbles.”
“Killer.”
“Pixie.”
“Cor mea.”
At each term of endearment the omegas grow a little quieter, a little more watchful. Like they’re suddenly realizing, after weeks together, that maybe being friendly with Piers has its benefits.
“How can we help you today, pix?”
I flash Court a quick smile. “I was hoping I could borrow Piers for a bit?”
“Me?” The beta sounds shocked at the notion, as if he can’t understand why I’d want to spend time with him alone.
Which really just breaks my fucking heart.
“Yes, you,” I say, shifting closer to him. “If you’re up for it, of course. And if your pack can spare you.”
The words are out before I can think better of it. Before I can make my tongue remember that Piers is not supposed to be acknowledged as part of the Ashbourne Pack because of stupid Bravonnian societal expectations.
No one comments on it. Not the pack or the omegas. Though the omegas probably think it's more to do with his employment than anything else.
“I’m up for it,” Piers says, sounding thrilled by the idea of spending time with me. The feeling is mutual, but Forsythe’s warning is still ringing in my ears to keep my distance from his beta.
So I level my gaze on him, waiting for him to give the go ahead.
Even though it grates. Piers is his own person, capable of making his own decisions.
But I’m also not here to step on anyone’s toes, or to sashay boldly over anyone's boundaries.
Forsythe is the pack's prime and I know he takes that position seriously.
Even if he goes about it in stupid ways sometimes.
Like ignoring his beta in public.
The prince nods slowly. “Okay. Just… stay where we can see you.”
I cannot stop my eyes from rolling. “Yes, Daddy.”
A low growl, not menacing but heated. Courtland laughs. “Oh, shit, Pix. I think you just unlocked a new kink for Sythe.”
“Though to be fair, I think everything about Ren is a kink for all of us,” Thayer adds, knowingly.
I scowl at him. “Remember what I said about you going back to insulting me? I meant it.”
“What?” Grieves bites out, his head whipping toward his pack mate as he flexes his hands like he’s… readying to hit him. “You insulted her?”
“Relax, bruiser,” I chide, folding my arms over my chest. “You all insulted me. Except Piers. Remember? I believe the word you used was unpolished.”
His scowl turns on me then and if another alpha had looked at me like that I might have been worried. But this is Grieves and I know he’d never hurt me. Well, not physically at least. Emotionally is another story. “You know I didn’t mean that shit, bubbles.”
“I don’t know that that’s a thing that I know.” They all just blink at me. Yeesh. No She’s the Man fans here, I see.
Piers’s hand slides on to the small of my back, warm and supportive. I want to lean into the touch but am also aware of the still glowering prince watching our every move.
Piers gives my lower back a gentle nudge, subtle enough that no one but me would notice it. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Before they say something else they’ll regret.”
I snort under my breath but let him guide me away, weaving us through clusters of omegas and crew until the noise dulls into a low hum.
We stop near one of the shaded seating areas tucked just far enough from the main group to feel private, even if it isn’t.
A small table. Two chairs. A clipboard abandoned by production.
The moment we’re out of earshot, his hand falls away—careful, respectful, like he’s afraid of overstepping. It makes something in my chest ache.
I flop into one of the chairs, drop my notebook next to the clipboard and twirl the pen between my fingers, nervously. “So,” I say lightly, even though my heart is still doing a stupid little stutter. “I’m about to plan a date for your pack, and I’m realizing there’s a lot I don’t actually know.”
He leans back against the table instead of sitting, arms folding loosely over his chest. Watching me. Waiting.
I tilt my head, studying him the same way I do my students before class—looking for tension, for the places they’re holding themselves too tight. And Piers seems to be all tension. I hate how hard this must be for him.
“I suppose you grew up just as lavish as the rest of them?”
His mouth twitches. “You really did no research on us at all did you?”
I wave the pen. “It seems counterintuitive to learn everything I can about you and your pack before coming. I’d rather learn firsthand.
Not from a website that probably got a bunch of shit wrong.
I know the basics. I know Grieves was a scholarship student and that Forsythe is the younger twin, making him the spare.
Thayer is the son of a Duke? And Court is the son of a viscount, but I don’t know about you.
Because… well…” I hesitate to say it. But Piers doesn’t.
“Because everyone sees me as an employee and not a member of the pack.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and nod. “Yeah, that.”
He gives me this sad little smile. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined them. I knew it would take time for the queen to accept me. It just seemed like it would be worth it at the time.”
“And now?” I want to shove my foot in my mouth to keep from asking these types of questions. But I keep going. “Does it seem worth it now? Eight years in?”
His cheek twitches. “It… It's changed.”
There’s a hiss from somewhere to my left and I glance over to find Lulu glaring at me. Right, I’m supposed to also pretend like Piers isn’t a member of the pack we’re all here to woo. Otherwise they can’t use any of this. But it's just so hard. And stupid.
I don’t want to treat him like their PA. I want to treat him like a potential lover.
Even if that isn’t the case and never will be.
Piers scowls as he looks over at the producer, but he can’t say anything about it either. He signed up for this the same way I did.
“What did you need help with, sunshine?” he asks me gently, drawing my attention back to him and away from the injustice of this entire fucking situation.
“I wanted to ask for your help with the date planning. You know them better than anyone here and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get your input on their likes and dislikes.” And yours too. Since whatever I plan is going to include him, dating show be damned.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re the first omega that’s asked. It's actually pretty surprising. But then I guess everyone else thinks they know them since they’re such public figures.”
I shrug. “Like I said, I did very little research before coming here. So any insight you have would be appreciated. Otherwise I’ll end up planning a date for myself, and something tells me they might not like street tacos eaten while sitting on a curb and falling asleep halfway through Clueless.”
He laughs. Loud enough that the other people on the pool deck look in our direction. Forsythe among them. Likely checking I haven’t gotten my greedy omega paws on his beta’s heart.
“You might be surprised, Ren. they really aren’t as fancy as their titles and upbringing make them out to be.”
“Prove it.”
“Forsythe always, without fail, orders cheesy bacon fries from room service when we stay at a hotel. Eats the entire plate without sharing a single fry with the rest of us. Guards the plate like a dog with a bone.”
I blink. “The prince of Bravonne?”
Piers nods solemnly. “The very one.”
I snort at the imagery. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Courtland lives off caffeine and spite when he’s working.
Thayer relaxes by grading papers while watching garbage reality TV.
Grieves stress eats like a competitive sport.
And all of them would rather be comfortable than impressive.
” He glances at me, eyes sharp but kind.
“If you plan something real—something you—they’ll eat it up. ”
I chew on that. “Because if I plan a date for myself, it’s going to involve blankets, comfort food, and probably a competitive video game.”
Piers smiles, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off my cheek. “Then you’re already closer than you think.”
“What about you?”
His brows jump. “Me?” God, I hate how surprised he is whenever I ask him about himself. Like he doesn’t expect anyone to give a shit about him.
“Yeah, dimples. You. What’s your deal?”
He flicks his eyes over to Lulu again and then tightens his jaw, like he’s preparing to do something he knows he shouldn’t.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m the third son of a Bravonnian noble pack, who is eternally disappointed that I never amounted to more than being the personal assistant to the prince. ”
I blink at that, and my mouth is hanging open in shock. “Your family doesn’t know?” I yelp. How could they not? How could anyone look at these men all together and not realize immediately that they are in love. “Piers.”
He shrugs, slides his hand across the table to lace his fingers through mine. “Its… complicated.”
“God, I hate that word when it comes to relationships.” I twist my head to glare at Forsythe, only to find him already watching us. Has he even looked away once since we sat down together? I doubt it. “Your prime needs to uncomplicate it for you.”
“Ren.” His thumb rasps over my knuckles, his fingers surprisingly calloused for a nobleman.
“No. Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do? Take care of their packs, make sure you have what you need? You can’t tell me this is what you need.”
“No, but I need them. And this is the only way I can have them.”
That knocks the fight out of me, replacing it with a grief so deep I’m a little worried I might drown in it. I want more for him. So much more.
But it's not my place to say anything. This is not my relationship. Its theirs. And if it works for them…
Still, I’m going to be sure to include him in my date. I’ll do my best to fade into the background and make it about them, their pack and what they need. Production might not like it, but I’m going to do it anyway.
Shaking my head with a sigh, I click my pen and use it to scrawl across a blank page in the notebook. Menu: Cheesy bacon fries. Then squint up at Piers. “What else?”