Chapter 4
four
. . .
His hands were suddenly at the hem of my soaking t-shirt before I could blink. The man moved like lightning when he wanted something.
“What? No!” I yelped, grabbing his wrists to stop him. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
My resistance seemed to amuse rather than deter him.
With one swift movement, he spun me around and pinned me against his chest, one arm wrapped around my torso while his free hand resumed its assault on my shirt.
Fantastic. The Neanderthal approach to problem-solving—when in doubt, manhandle the omega.
“Your preference has been noted and ignored,” Stefano replied, his mouth suddenly at my neck, breath hot against my skin as he yanked my t-shirt up and over my head in one smooth motion.
I immediately tried to cover myself, crossing my arms over my chest, but Stefano spun me to face him, capturing my wrists and holding them at my sides. If there was a competition for Most Invasive Alpha, he’d win the gold medal and sweep the silver and bronze categories too.
“Let me go, you psychotic dickwad!” I snarled, trying to kick him but all I managed was to lose my balance on the slippery shore, stumbling against him, my bare chest colliding with his. “What part of ‘no’ translates to ‘please manhandle me’ in your Neanderthal brain?”
For one electric moment, we froze like that—skin to skin, his hands gripping my wrists, my face inches from his.
I could see every detail of his features—the cobalt blue of his irises that seemed to burn with their own dangerous fire, the slight stubble along his jaw, the way his pupils dilated as he looked down at me.
"Here," Marco said, tossing a black t-shirt to Stefano. "Though I'm not sure he deserves the courtesy."
Stefano caught the shirt with one hand while maintaining his grip on my wrists with the other. He kept me pinned against him, our faces so close I could feel his breath on my lips. "He doesn't deserve it," he agreed, eyes never leaving mine. "But we're not animals."
"Could have fooled me," I muttered, trying to ignore how my heart was pounding against my ribs. "The zoo called. They want their alpha gorillas back."
Meanwhile, Matteo waded into the shallow water and retrieved my sodden backpack from where I'd dropped it, water streaming from the fabric as he lifted it.
Stefano finally released my wrists, his thumb brushing against my pulse point one last time, probably feeling my heart doing the samba against my will. Traitor body, always ready to embarrass me at the worst possible moments.
"Arms up," he commanded.
“I can dress myself,” I snapped. “I’ve been doing it successfully for twenty-one years without alpha assistance. It’s a shirt, not nuclear physics. Though given your evolutionary stage, I understand why buttons might confuse you.”
“Arms. Up.” This time his voice carried that unmistakable alpha command that bypassed rational thought and went straight to the hindbrain.
My arms raised slightly before I could stop myself, a reflexive response to the command tone that made me want to scream with frustration.
It was like my body and brain had separate agendas—one determined to maintain dignity, the other perfectly happy to roll over for the nearest dominant alpha.
Stefano smirked, clearly noting my involuntary compliance, and slipped the shirt over my head.
It fell to mid-thigh on me, the neckline so wide it slipped off one shoulder.
Great. The “drowned waif in boyfriend’s shirt” look. Just what my dignity needed.
“Now the shorts,” he said, hands moving to my waistband.
That snapped me back to full resistance.
“Touch my shorts and I’ll rearrange your face so thoroughly your own mother won’t recognize you,” I growled, backing away until I hit a tree.
“I’ll make your dental records the biggest mystery since the Bermuda Triangle.
Archaeologists will study your remains and wonder what kind of ancient torture technique was used to bend a human spine that way. ”
Stefano followed, crowding me against the rough bark, one hand braced beside my head. The tree at my back and him at my front created a perfect picture of “trapped omega” that probably featured in his spank bank fantasies. “You’re soaking wet. The shorts need to come off.”
“I’ll take them off myself,” I hissed. “Back the fuck up and turn around. Or is the concept of basic decency too advanced for your alpha pea-brain? Did you skip that day in Respecting Boundaries 101?”
“And give you another chance to run?” Marco asked with a laugh. “Not likely. Though I’d pay good money to watch you try with those wet shorts weighing you down. Like a cat in molasses.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Then I’ll stay in wet shorts. My discomfort, my choice. I’d rather get trench foot than give you three the peep show you’re obviously angling for. Maybe I can develop some rare fungal infection that’s only contagious to alphas with delusions of grandeur.”
Stefano studied me for a long moment, then shook his head. “Not acceptable.” Before I could react, his hands were at my waistband, fingers brushing against my bare skin as he worked the sodden fabric down my hips.
“Get your hands off me!” I shouted, trying to push him away, but it was like trying to move a mountain with harsh language and good intentions.
He simply caught both my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head against the tree while his other hand continued its work.
“Is this how you normally undress people? Or am I getting the special deluxe package? Should I be honored that you’ve upgraded me from ‘kidnapping victim’ to ‘unwilling strip-tease performer’? ”
“Hold still,” he ordered, voice calm despite the heat in his eyes. “The more you struggle, the longer this takes.”
“The more you manhandle me, the more creative your eventual dismemberment will be,” I shot back, though my words lacked their usual bite when I was quite literally backed against a tree.
“I’m thinking origami with your intestines.
Maybe a nice swan shape, or is that too cliché?
Dinosaur might be more appropriate, considering your evolutionary development seems to have stalled somewhere in the Jurassic period. ”
I closed my eyes, mortification burning through me as I felt the shorts slide down my thighs.
The worst part wasn’t even the humiliation—it was the way my body was reacting to his proximity, to the casual dominance in his handling.
Something hot and unwelcome was unfurling in my stomach, making my breath come shorter, faster.
My omega biology was clearly having a party my rational brain hadn’t approved, sending all sorts of confusing signals through my nervous system.
Like, hello? Did we miss the memo about hating this guy and everything he stands for?
When the shorts finally hit the ground around my ankles, I was acutely aware of being essentially naked except for Stefano’s oversized shirt, which now felt impossibly inadequate as coverage.
The hem brushed mid-thigh, and any movement threatened to reveal everything.
I might as well have been wearing tissue paper for all the protection it offered from three pairs of alpha eyes that seemed determined to memorize every inch of exposed skin.
“There,” Stefano said, his voice rougher than before. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness.
His gaze traveled down my bare legs before returning to my face, something dark and hungry flickering in those cobalt depths that looked like they could strip away lies and leave souls bare.
It was the look of a predator who’d just cornered something delicious and was considering which part to sample first.
“I hate you,” I managed, the words coming out more breathless than venomous. “All of you. So much. With the fiery passion of a thousand supernovas. If hatred could be converted to electricity, I’d power a small country with what I’m feeling right now.”
“Noted,” Stefano replied. He stepped back, giving me space that felt more like a taunt than a courtesy. “Now, we have a decision to make.”
“What decision?” I asked warily, tugging the shirt down as far as it would go.
My fingers clutched at the hem like it was the last shred of my dignity, which wasn’t far from the truth.
“The one where I go home and you three go to prison for assault and kidnapping? Because I vote for that one. Two thumbs-up, five stars, would recommend.”
Marco laughed, a sound that somehow managed to be both genuinely amused and slightly menacing. “The decision about how you’ll be spending the night.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You heard him,” Stefano said, crossing his arms over his chest in that classic alpha power pose they must teach in Alpha Posturing 101.
“You’re not going back to the cottage tonight.
You’ve demonstrated that your guardians can’t adequately control you, which means we need to take more… direct measures.”
The implication hit me like a physical blow.
My stomach dropped somewhere to the vicinity of my feet.
“You can’t keep me overnight. That’s—that’s kidnapping!
Pretty sure that’s still illegal, even for alphas with god complexes.
Or did you all get a special permit for ‘justified omega abduction’ that I don’t know about? ”
“It’s security,” Matteo corrected. “Your father pays us to ensure your safety. Today’s actions proved you need closer supervision.”
“My father would never authorize—”
“Your father,” Stefano interrupted, “gave us explicit permission to use whatever methods we deemed necessary to keep you safe. Including extended detention if you proved to be a flight risk.”