Chapter 7
Piper
The afternoon and dinner were a blur between calls from Raelynn, my socials blowing up, and feeling a weird undercurrent of tension slipping throughout the entire manor.
Many of my things have been delivered or repurchased as this manor estate is to be my “home away from home” for at least a few weeks.
I didn’t truly feel that necessary, but if I’ve learned one thing about Raelynn, it’s to carefully pick your battles.
If it means I have a say in this entire fake-dating situation later, I’ll stay here with the prince. It’s not that big a deal.
Now, all four of us are parked in the living room of the manor’s east wing, on an L-shaped array of high-end sofas.
Kellen sits closest to the fireplace. Elliot has staked out the corner with a book that he hasn’t turned a page of since we sat down.
Nolan stands guard at the window like it’s a crime scene.
And I’m curled up at the end, legs tucked under, fiddling with the leather tassels of a throw pillow that costs more than my first car.
It’s quiet enough to hear the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, which just makes everything worse.
I can’t do this.
“So.” I pop the bubble of silence. “Now that there’s no audience, we can probably talk about the thing we’re not supposed to talk about.”
Kellen cracks a smile, but it’s a nervous one. “What are you referring to, specifically?”
Well, yes, there are more than a few possibilities, aren’t there? “Let’s start with the most important to me: No one outside this room can know I’m an omega, not even your parents, Kellen.”
“Especially not the king and queen.” Nolan turns from the window. “It’ll make my job and Elliot’s much harder.”
This will go from, “Aww, cute, the prince and a pop star are dating,” to doubling-down on the fact we’re an alpha and omega super fast. Not that Kellen probably doesn’t already get enough of that in his life.
Kellen sits up, sets his drink on the end table, and gives me a grave look. “Of course. When you didn’t bring it up with my parents, I assumed that this was not public knowledge.”
I shift in my seat a little. “It’s not private, it just doesn’t exist. It’s career suicide if discovered. I’m not about to gamble the last decade of work on a pop culture moment. So, yeah, secrecy oath. Sworn?”
“Sworn,” says Kellen without hesitation.
Elliot nods once. “Your secret is safe.”
I let out a heavy breath. “Great. Now that we’re all oathbound, we can talk about this ‘pack’ situation.”
It gets quiet again. I can practically taste the unspoken thoughts in the air, floating just behind the scent of sandalwood, ocean, cherries, and burning wood.
Scent-matches are supposed to be rare. Like, lottery-winner rare.
So the fact that I am not just compatible with these three but scent-matched?
That’s… what’s the opposite of a jackpot?
Nolan speaks first. “I want to make clear that none of this changes my responsibilities to you, Piper. As your bodyguard, my first duty is your safety, not—” He cuts off and glances at Kellen.
“Not courtship, or whatever narrative they want to spin, or may want to if they discover the truth about the four of us.”
Elliot actually smiles, small and fleeting. “It’s not a requirement, Piper. Scent-matching, pack-bonding, whatever you want to call it—socially, it’s an expectation, but biologically, you can ignore it. You’re not obligated to—” He waves a hand in the air. “—bond.”
Easy to say before I’m in heat or any of them are in rut.
“I’m aware,” I say. “Which is why I’m setting boundaries now. No pack, no bond, just a working arrangement until we’re out of this mess.”
Kellen looks wounded for half a second, then covers it with a tight smile. “If that’s what you want, Piper.”
I throw up my hands. “It’s not about what I want, it’s about what will keep me from getting ruined in the press, and what will keep you from being disowned. Not to mention, we’ve known each other for, what, a day? Elliot and Nolan don’t even like each other, let alone—”
“We can work together,” Elliot interrupts, glancing at Nolan. “If it means protecting our clients.”
“Clients,” Nolan echoes, but there’s no venom in it. He almost sounds relieved.
Therein lies the issue.
We’ve discovered a rare bond but won’t acknowledge it further because Kellen and I are clients, and I’m meant to be on a stage, not at home with lots of kids running around.
Kellen’s life would be the least affected.
An alpha prince? It’s basically mandatory they get assigned an omega if they don’t find one.
Kellen chews his lip. “I don’t want to be rude, but can we talk about the logistics? I don’t know how long we’re supposed to be doing this. My parents are already drafting public statements for all manner of milestones.”
“Until the press dies down, I assume,” says Nolan. “Then we can quietly end the arrangement.”
“Or loudly,” I say fairly sarcastically. “Depends how dramatic we’re feeling.”
Elliot stands up and moves to refill his glass of water. He walks with a stiffness I can’t ignore. “Perhaps we should outline the terms of this arrangement. Public interactions, joint appearances, media obligations—”
“Like a contract?” I’m unable to suppress a laugh. “I’m surprised Raelynn didn’t already demand that, honestly.”
Kellen’s ears turn pink. “That actually makes sense. We should be clear on what’s expected.”
“Fine.” I reach for a pad of stationary from the side table, something with an embossed royal crest and probably a tracking chip in the paper. “Let’s make a list.”
Nolan moves away from the window for the first time and sits opposite me. He gives a polite but perfunctory nod to Elliot, who remains standing. Kellen pulls a decorative pillow onto his lap, probably to keep from fidgeting his hands.
I uncap the pen. “First rule: No accidental pack-bonding.”
Kellen shakes his head. “How do we avoid that, exactly?”
I shrug. “No interactions beyond necessary.”
My inner omega screams at the idea of this. At pushing away scent matches. She doesn’t understand the freedom of not being bonded or in a pack. She just wants to be claimed and bound, to serve her purpose.
Elliot offers the next rule. “No physical affection in private. In public, as required for the charade.”
“Charade,” says Kellen, then glances at me. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
What I want is not to be a pawn in the world’s worst soap opera, but here we are. “Yes, this is what I want.”
We go down the list. No unsanctioned PDA, no one-on-one interviews, no bringing up family history. Social events to be scheduled weekly, minimum. All media requests to go through our handlers.
Nolan leans back. “Anything else?”
No one else has any more input. I set down the stationary pad and pen. “Good. That’s it, then.” I raise my glass. “To the world’s weirdest non-pack.”
Kellen clinks his glass to mine. “To the non-pack. Unless something natural happens.”
And to the continued fake-dating soap opera.
Elliot gives a nod, and even Nolan lifts his glass, though I think it’s more out of obligation than solidarity.
We sit in silence for a bit. The only sounds that break it are the ticking of the grandfather clock and the softest crackle from the fireplace.
Eventually, Kellen gets up and stretches. “I should get some rest. I have a call with the Palace lawyers at six a.m.”
Elliot stands, too. “I will make a sweep of the perimeter.”
“Because god forbid anyone assassinates me before the media does,” Kellen jokes.
I bark a sudden laugh. Kellen’s far funnier than I expected. “You’re not kidding.”
I think Kellen and I understand more about each other than either of us ever thought we could.
Nolan gestures at me. “Do you need anything, Piper?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m all set. But I’m tired, too. Think it’s time to go up.”
Everyone peels off, one by one. If I was the type to believe in fate, I’d say I was doomed from the first scent-match. But I don’t believe in fate.
I believe in disaster.
And if there’s one thing I am fully equipped for, it’s making the best out of a disaster.
Or at least making sure I get a few decent songs out of it.