Chapter 4 Jonah #2
I can hear the defensiveness in her voice as she says it and anger coils in my belly. My parents are happy together. Why should she have to defend herself?
"Charming. And your pastor—Pastor White, was it? He shares these... traditional views?"
Alex snorts. Actually snorts. Then tries to cover it with a cough. His knee bumps mine under the table and electricity shoots up my thigh. We both jerk back like we've been burned.
"Pastor David has led our congregation for almost fifty years," Dad says, a hint of steel in his voice. "He's a good man."
"I'm sure that he is,” Diana says, without looking up. “I’m not arguing with that. I’m just not sure he’d be suitable for the ceremony.”
“Why not?” Dad asks.
Diana puts her pen down. She looks at Dad then at me. “He’s very traditional, as I understand it. We will have the press there. I don’t want anything that can be misconstrued and fed to the tabloids. Someone a little more...modern may be a better choice.”
There’s the bulldozer again.
“I want Pastor David,” I say. “It won’t feel like a proper marriage without him. He’s married everyone in my family.”
Diana looks at me and there’s a beat before she thinks where I can almost see the gears turning in her head.
“Everyone?”
“Yes, he married Mom and Dad. My uncles and aunts. My brothers and sisters. And he’s going to marry me.”
Diana sighs. “Okay, I can spin that. Traditional family values. It’s a human interest piece, but I’ll need to speak to him beforehand. His ceremonial content will have to pass muster with my PR team.”
I bite back a laugh. I can just imagine Pastor David’s face when he hears that. She does have a point though. If Pastor David starts telling Alex Colborne that he’s the devil in the middle of the service, it’ll make the front page in newspapers across the country.
I glance at my groom-to-be and feel my heart skip a beat. He’s still looking down at his phone, long eyelashes hiding his eyes. He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It’s such a pity his angelic face hides such an ugly interior.
Diana makes another note, then looks up at me just as I take a big bite of chicken. "I know that you are unfamiliar with all this, but I’ve been doing it for years. The media narrative needs to be carefully managed. We will give you help.”
I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to. My mouth is full but I do wonder what her ‘careful management’ says about Alex Colbourne. Why would a grown man need careful management. Either she is terrible at her job or he is just plain terrible.
She gives me what she probably thinks is a sympathetic look as I swallow.
“The media will be running stories on this whether we like it or not.
The only thing we can do is make sure the stories are favorable.
Right now, that story is America's playboy reformed by sweet, conservative omega. A true love story."
"Love story?" The words escape before I can stop them. I’ve barely even spoken to him.
Everyone looks at me. Alex's storm-gray eyes bore into mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His scent spikes. Angry. Or...
"Of course." Diana's tone suggests I'm particularly slow. "A prime match of this caliber? The public expects romance. Destiny. Two souls meant to be together despite their... differences."
Alex's jaw clenches so hard I hear it click. His fingers drum against the table, a restless, agitated rhythm. My scent blooms stronger in response, and his nostrils flare.
"We'll need engagement photos as soon as possible," Diana continues, oblivious. "Something that shows the contrast between you. Your wholesome background with Alexander's more... cosmopolitan lifestyle."
"Cosmopolitan," I repeat. "That's what we're calling it?"
Dad meets my eyes and shakes his head minutely. I might be an omega but I’ve always been too outspoken. I’ve been better at it in recent years but right now, I’m finding it really, really difficult.
Alex's eyes snap to mine again. This time there's heat there, dangerous heat that makes my omega instincts purr even as my brain screams warnings.
"Got something to say, church mouse?" His voice is low, rough.
"No, Alpha." I load the title with enough sarcasm to strip paint.
His pupils blow wider.
“Jonah.” Dad says, and I know I’ve pushed it too far, but this is difficult. I’m not Mom and my alpha is nothing like Dad. I’m supposed to venerate, submit and obey Alex Colborne of all people?
This can’t be what God wants for me. It can’t.
I open my mouth to protest, but then under the table, his foot shifts, touching mine. The contact sends sparks up my leg, and suddenly I feel a whoosh of dampness on my chair. My face flushes and I know I’ve gone beet red.
"Children," Diana says mildly. "Save it for the honeymoon."
Mom makes a small, distressed sound.
"So," Diana turns back to my parents. "Tell me about your community. How many families? Do they all share your... traditional values?"
And there it is. She's fishing. Trying to figure out how much damage control she'll need.
"We have about three hundred members," Dad says carefully. "Good people. Teachers, plumbers, accountants. Normal folks who love God and each other."
"What is the living situation?" Diana asks lightly. "I understand you all live in a compound."
"We live in our own homes," Mom says, voice tight. "We're not what you think we are."
"I don't think anything," Diana lies smoothly. "I'm simply preparing for the questions we'll receive. The media can be... creative in their interpretations."
Alex shifts again, his leg actually brushing mine this time. The contact burns through my dress pants. I can't tell if it's intentional or if he's just restless, but my body doesn't care. Heat pools low in my belly.
Stop it, I order my hormones. He's an arrogant ass who can't even pretend to tolerate you.
"The ceremony," Diana switches topics. "I’ll need a list of your guests as soon as possible so we can run them through our security checks. Though we'll need to balance it with Alexander's side. The governor will attend, several ambassadors, the entire board of Colborne Industries."
"A thousand guests seems excessive," Dad ventures.
"That’s because it's not a wedding, it's a PR exercise," Alex drawls. It’s the first thing he has volunteered since we arrived. But his leg stays pressed against mine, a line of heat I can't escape without obviously moving.
"Don't be dramatic," Diana chides. "It's a celebration of compatibility. Do you know how rare a ninety-six percent match is? The media is calling it the Match of the Century."
"Lucky us," I say under my breath.
Alex smirks. His foot hooks around my ankle, even as his attention supposedly goes back to his phone.
I go rigid, heart slamming against my ribs. It's definitely intentional now. He's touching me on purpose while scrolling through his phone like I don't exist.
"The reception will be at the Bellmont as well," Diana continues.
Under the table, Alex's hand moves. His thumb rubs against my thigh. Just the barest stroke, but it sends electricity shooting up my spine. My scent spikes, and his grip tightens.
What is he doing?
"Perhaps we could discuss this later," Dad suggests, obviously sensing my distress. "Work out the details—"
"The details are quite simple," Diana cuts him off. "This wedding will happen in three weeks. It will be photographed, documented, and celebrated as the event of the season. We will take care of the details. I’ll make sure Ricky keeps you updated with all requirements. You don’t need to worry about any of it. We’ll make sure that the media narrative says what we want it to. "
"Our son," Mom says quietly, "is a person. Not a press release."
Diana gives her a sympathetic smile. "In three weeks, he'll be both."
The courses keep coming. Tiny portions of things I can't pronounce, each more elaborate than the last. The conversation limps along.
Through it all, Alex maintains his grip on my thigh. His thumb traces abstract patterns against my skin, each touch sending sparks through my nervous system. I should pull away. Should tell him to stop.
I don't.
"One more thing," Diana says as dessert arrives—a series of rich dark chocolate somethings. "We'll need to coordinate Jonah's move immediately after the ceremony."
"Move?" I blink, jerked out of my Alex-induced haze.
"To Alexander's estate, naturally. I've arranged for movers to arrive the day of the wedding. You won’t need to do anything."
"I haven't... we haven't discussed..." The words come out strangled. I suppose some part me knew that I’d be leaving my family but I haven’t let myself admit it yet.
"Don’t worry. Ricky will handle the logistics." She waves dismissively.
Ricky nods, already typing notes. Of course, Ricky will. Don’t let the grooms do anything.
"Speaking of logistics," Diana adds. "We need engagement photos. We'll want something that captures your... dynamic. I’ve arranged for a shoot tomorrow morning. I’ll ask Ricky to send a car for you."
Alex's grip on my thigh tightens almost painfully. He puts his phone down on the table. Finally. "We're not performing monkeys."
"No," Diana agrees. "You're a highly compatible match. Act like it."
The silence that follows could choke someone. Alex finally releases my thigh, leaving cold absence behind. He stands abruptly, tossing his napkin on the table.
"Not in the mood for this.”
He's gone before anyone can respond. Ricky half-rises to follow, but Diana waves him down.
"Let him sulk. He'll come around." She turns back to us with that sharp shark smile. "He always does."
But I can still smell his barely controlled fury. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. My omega instincts whine at his absence, even as my brain insists it's for the best.
"Well," Diana closes her portfolio. "I think that covers the essentials. Ricky will send you the full schedule as soon as it’s finalized."
We stand, clearly dismissed. Mom grabs my hand, holding tight.
"Oh, and Jonah?" Diana's voice stops me. "Do try to... soften him. This works better if Alexander plays along."
Like I have any control over Alexander Colborne.
Outside, the paparazzi have multiplied. They surge the moment we exit:
"Jonah! Where's Alex?"
"How much of his money are you going to siphon to the church?"
"When is the wedding?"
The security guards create a gauntlet for us as we move. Dad tucks Mom against his side, shielding us as we push toward the valet stand. Cameras flash, voices shout. By the time we reach our car—returned with another smirk from the valet—we're all shaking.
"Animals," Mom mutters as we pull away. "Absolute animals."
I stare out the window, watching the photographers shrink in the distance.
Mom twists around from the front seat. "Jonah? You okay, sweetheart?"
I want to tell her about Alex's touch under the table. About the way my body betrays me every time he's near. About how I can hate someone and want them with equal desperation.
Instead, I force a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
She doesn't believe me, but she lets it go. We drive home in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
If this was what family means to the Colbornes, then I have already lost everything.