53. Willow
Chapter fifty-three
Willow
My guys are very excited about the first date.
I’ve played off as disinterested, but the truth is I’m all jittery inside as well.
As I'm sequestered in my office for the afternoon, their voices float through the walls, alternating between laughing and being serious as they prepare for the surprise. While they’ve asked me plenty about what I like, they’ve kept quiet about their plans.
Not only is this my first date in over seven years, but it’s also the first surprise anything.
Which makes it hard to focus on my work.
My personal assistant is running wild with the idea of the Aleta Boss program, and we’ve brainstormed one hundred posts to make, as well as an entire line of advertising with male-centric targeting.
It’s all I can do to hold both of us reined in until I get more feedback from my alphas on the modules.
It’s an exciting venture, with the potential to help a lot of people, but it does risk diluting my branding as an omega specialist. Either way, I’m enjoying the challenge. Perhaps I needed something new to push me forward creatively.
But my newfound energy also comes down to the positive effect of alphas in the house.
Jeremy and Alessandro took over the cooking.
I still have a cleaning service come through regularly, but I don’t need to be the one giving directions.
The dogs get exercised or let out to the yard without me having to get up, and the three alphas seem to have come to an agreement between themselves about ordering groceries.
I only need to add what I want to the shopping list. It’s all very comfortable in a way I never knew sharing a home could be.
And the remnants of voices in my head and dark dreams? Drowned out by three affectionate men who don’t believe it’s a weakness to praise and compliment their omega.
A knock sounds on the door, starling me out of a spreadsheet analysis. “Yes?”
“We’re ready for you, cara mia. When do you think you’ll finish?”
I shove my chair back from the desk. “Right now.”
The door cracks open and a hand sticks through, waving a cloth. “Then cover your eyes, if you please.”
“Oh, very mysterious.” I bind my eyes up and then open the door. “What happens if I peek?”
“Then we’ll dish out smacks,” Joel says firmly.
“Maybe you’d enjoy that,” I tease, holding my hands out.
Big fingers clasp mine, leading me forward. A cheek brushes mine, Joel’s scent billowing around me.
“Maybe,” he purrs by my ear, sending a tingle running through my core.
“But,” Alessandro interrupts, “Since you’re not going to peek, you can explore your kinks another time.”
Joel and I laugh. They lead me across the house through a haze of delicious food scents, and then remove the blindfold. I blink to clear my gaze and discover I’m in my bedroom. A lump lodges in my throat and I whirl around. “If you guys think a roll in the sheets counts as a date—”
Joel presses his lips to mine to silence me. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says when he steps back.
Alessandro nods, eyes sparkling. “Sì. You need to dress up for a date.”
“Oh.” I chew on my lip, heat burning in my cheeks. “Sorry.”
Right, they aren’t like my previous alphas. Their care might take a decade to get used to.
“Look.” Alessandro holds up a dress bag, wriggling with excitement. “For you.”
I grab the coat hanger sticking out the top, my heart melting. I’m not even leaving the house, but they got me a dress to wear?
“Come out when you’re ready,” Joel says, ushering Alessandro through the door and closing it behind himself.
I lay the bag down on the bed and unzip it. Emerald green silk spills out, the chiffon overlay soft in my hands.
“Oh, hello you beautiful thing,” I whisper as I untuck the edges. The skirt comes up to my knees, just covering my scars, and the long sleeves gather with elastic at my wrists. I slip into the dress and tie the belt around my waist, leaving the ends to drape down among the skirt folds.
When’s the last time I wore something purely to feel pretty?
Never, a voice whispers in the back of my mind. Who’d waste this on an omega who doesn’t leave the house?
Alessandro would. And Jeremy. Joel as well.
I smile and open my bedroom door. “I’m ready!”
The three alphas crowd the corridor, and they’ve all dressed up as well. Jeremy and Joel chose button up shirts while Alessandro wears a soft plain white shirt with a dinner jacket. I stop in my tracks, realizing it’s the first time I’ve seen them in anything other than polos, jeans, and tank tops.
“Wow.” Jeremy says, scanning me. “I mean, does Christan Dior know he’s missing one of his models?”
I flap one hand at him. “Looks to me like he’s missing three of them.”
Alessandro steps forward, his dark eyes wide as he offers me his arm. I slip mine through it.
“What are we doing?” I ask. If we stand here too long, we might end up not getting any further than tangling in the sheets after all, but it wouldn’t be my alphas instigating it.
Jeremy steps forward and hands me a piece of card. “You’re itinerary, for the progressive date, my lady.”
“Progressive?” I ask, raising my brows.
“Indeed,” he says grandly, like some show host. “Three different locations, three different experiences. Now, if you’ll kindly get on the bus?”
The “bus” is an office chair sitting in the middle of the hall, except someone’s sticky taped a label on the backrest that reads “Boss Bus Service.”
I laugh. “You guys are crazy.”
“Crazy or not, time’s ticking,” Joel says, nudging me toward the chair.
I glance down at the card in my hand, which happens to be an “all inclusive” ticket for the Williams concert, Baccini spa, and Boss Cinemas experience. Corny perhaps, but the effort they’re putting in makes it a little hard for me to breathe.
I step up to the “bus” and tuck my phone between my thighs. I’ll definitely need photos of this evening.
“Hold on tight,” Alessandro orders before thrusting the seat forward.
I shriek as I scoot across the flooring, the alphas running to keep up with me.
It’s only a few rooms away, but my guys make engine noises and stop at “intersections” as we go.
I’m clinging to the seat with a death grip and shrieking with laughter by the time we arrive in an unused games room at the far end of the house.
“Is this the concert hall?” I ask, checking my ticket.
“It certainly is, and you have VIP seating, as well as a backstage pass to meet the artists.”
“I sure hope so,” I giggle. “But I’m dying to know about the performance.”
“All in good time,” Jeremy says cryptically.
Joel helps me to my feet, steadying me until the dizziness subsides, and leads me over to a bucket seat.
In front of it, someone’s set out the mother of all girl dinners.
A rainbow fruit platter, three types of dips with crudités and sourdough, along with cheese, crackers, and some meat pies—which I assume are for more substance.
Alessandro pours me a glass of sparkling white wine as Jeremy sits down on a stool at the front of the room.
The lights dim as he picks up a guitar.
“No way!” I cry. “You play, Jeremy?”
He winks at me and strums. My vision blurs and I blink furiously, turning to my wine glass for distraction. Never thought I’d get to hear live music again.
Jeremy strums some chords to a familiar pop song and then opens his mouth. His voice deepens for the song, and I sit spellbound. Alessandro has to put a plate in my hands before I can drag my attention off the performing alpha.
When he finishes the song, we all applaud loudly and hoot. With his big tan hat shading his face, Jeremy looks like he should be singing a country ballad, but he begins a recent pop hit called Heat Fall. I’ve even used it for a bunch of my short social posts recently.
I hum along, and when I get to the chorus, the words strike a chord in my soul. I hear your call, gonna bring my all. Letting loose my soul, in your heat, we fall.
“That’s our song,” I murmur as Jeremy finishes up.
He nods and blows me a kiss, and suddenly my heart’s too full to speak. Alessandro leans over and squeezes my hand, and Joel perches on the armrest of my seat and strokes my hair, no words needed.
I reach blindly for a snack and pick up a tomato. I hesitate, considering putting it back, but these men have prepared everything so wonderfully, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Plus, I already touched it.
I pop the cherry tomato in my mouth and bite down, wincing at the bitter spray across my tongue. When I glance back at the dish, there’s a medium-sized bowl full of the darn things. Why do many? Should I eat them first to get them out of the way?
When I reach for another, Joel leans over me and grabs the bowl.
“Do you like these, Willow?”
“Ah, well . . .”
He eyeballs me and I know I’ve been caught.
I slump. “Not really.”
“Then why are you putting them in your mouth, silly?” He shakes his head and pops one onto his tongue, turning his attention back to his brother.
Holding the bowl out of my reach.
Amazement dawns in my heart. I do get to be happy. Not maybe, not some day in the future. Now, with my three alphas. And over the stupidest darn things.
Jeremy plays for about twenty minutes. He’s not perfect, but it’s soulful and fun, with him laughing any time he makes a mistake and Joel and Alessandro calling out silly stuff like besotted schoolgirl fans.
I snap photos, including selfies with the guys, and cheer loudly.
Between the laughter, music, and snacks, could a date be any more perfect?
Jeremy finishes a song and holds a pretend microphone. “At this time, I’d like to invite my brother Joel up to play a song for us to close out the concert.”
Joel shakes his head but gets up with a smile. The brothers swap and Joel haltingly plucks out a tune.
“He did learn,” Jeremy whispers in my ear. “But he never liked practicing.”
I chuckle and applaud loudly when he finishes. To play an instrument at all is a marvel, in my books.
The brothers bow side by side and Alessandro and I rise to give them a standing ovation amid a bunch of whistling. The backstage pass is really just a chance for Jeremy to eat something as we chat about his music lessons as a kid before we get back on the “bus” for our next stop.
The “spa” has been set up in my nest, and involves a recliner chair, aromatherapy, and foot and hand massages. Plus some lovely mood music in the background.
“You guys,” I say as I sit down, out of words and completely blown away by how much effort they’ve put into this.
Alessandro grins as he hands me a mug of steaming tea.
“We want to spoil you, cara mia,” he offers shyly. “Show you how precious you are.”
I smile.
My phone rings, the sound harsh amid the soothing background of running water and harp playing. I check the caller. It’s my personal assistant.
“Sorry, I’ll just let her know I’m not free to talk,” I tell the guys apologetically as I answer. “Hey, Kylie. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”
“No,” she says bluntly, devoid of tone and enthusiasm.
“Oh. Is something wrong?” I wriggle upright in the recliner.
“Yeah.” She sighs heavily and my stomach sinks. “I’m sorry to bring bad news, but someone’s called your bluff about the shoot in Luxembourg. I hid the comment, but it kept popping up. And suddenly there were a dozen more, and it just all blew up.”
“What do you mean, it blew up?” I demand.
“You’ve been cancelled, Willow. It happened so fast I couldn’t do anything about it.”
The mug slips from my fingers, bouncing on the carpet. The tea pours out in a steaming rush all over the floor, like all my hard work.
My life is over.