Chapter 14
LUKE
I ’m drinking this ridiculous blue monstrosity of a cocktail, trying not to laugh at whatever the fuck Arrow and Holt think they’re doing.
The drink tastes like someone melted a candy store and added rum, but I’ll be damned if I let them see me flinch.
The sparkler has finally died out, leaving little black specks floating in the blue liquid that probably aren’t meant to be there.
Holt is clearly jealous as fuck that I’m here with Cindy instead of him. The way he keeps accidentally hitting my chair every time he passes? Amateur hour. A bruised shin isn’t going to throw me off my game.
I smirk into my drink, feeling Cindy tense beside me every time her mother opens her mouth.
Which is constantly. The woman is like a shark that’ll die if it stops moving, or in her case, stops talking.
But I’ve got this. I’ve talked my way out of police stations, into locked buildings, and through three state lines with contraband. One bougie mother isn’t going to?—
The cousin, Sarah, I think, the one with the pinched face like she’s constantly smelling something bad, practically runs to the table. She’s actually gasping as though she’s just witnessed a murder. Or won the lottery. With this family, probably the same thing.
Everyone stares at her. Even the mother stops mid-sentence, which might be a fucking miracle.
“Oh my God,” Sarah pants. “I just spotted Cynthia kissing the eye-patched waiter in the hallway!”
The silence that follows is beautiful. Absolute. The kind where you can hear someone’s wineglass settling against their plate three seats away.
Then everyone turns to stare at me.
Well played, Holt. Well fucking played. Goddammit.
My brain kicks into overdrive. Option one: act shocked and betrayed, storm off dramatically.
Problem: leaves Cindy alone with these vultures.
Option two: laugh it off, make it nothing.
Problem: Sarah is practically vibrating with the scandal of it all, and these people are looking for blood.
Option three: own it completely, make it weird for them instead of us.
I go with option two with a twist of three.
“Ha!” I bark out a laugh that’s probably too loud. “Classic Cynthia. She’s always been a prankster.” I take another sip of my blue nightmare, casual as fuck. “The waiter is a friend of ours. In fact, Arrow, the owner, is also a close friend. She’s just being friendly.”
“That didn’t look friendly to me,” Sarah insists, eyes glittering with malice. “He was practically humping her against the wall.”
“Sarah!” Victoria’s voice is sharp, but she doesn’t follow up with anything. They’re all watching me now, waiting for the explosion. The betrayed boyfriend. The scene.
Fuck that.
I need to play this right. Can’t look weak, can’t look cuckolded, but also can’t throw Cindy under the bus when she walks back. These people are looking for any crack in the armor, any sign that their precious Cynthia is the fuckup they want her to be.
Time to be the boyfriend who’s so confident, so secure, that kissing friends is just normal Tuesday shit.
Before I can get another word out, Cindy appears at the entrance of the marquee.
She’s pale except for her lips, which are definitely pinker than before, slightly swollen.
Fuck me, Holt really went for it. Her hair is a tiny bit mussed, and there’s panic, defiance, and maybe a touch of well-kissed satisfaction in her expression.
I give her my biggest, tightest smile. The one that says “We need to talk” while looking like “I love you so much.”
“Baby, so good to have you back!”
I stare at her, trying to communicate “Play along or we’re fucked” with just my eyes. She sits, and I immediately wrap my arm around her back, pulling her against me hard enough that she lets out a little oof .
“Funny thing,” I say, laughing like this is the best joke I’ve heard all year. “Sarah here insists you were making out with the pirate waiter, but I was just explaining that Holt’s a friend and you two are close.”
I lean in to kiss her temple, whispering against her skin, “The wolves are ready to attack.”
She stiffens for a second, then lifts her chin in that way that means she’s about to get defiant. Good. Defiant Cindy is better than panicked Cindy.
“It’s true. He’s a friend,” she insists, voice steadier than I expected.
“We’re all close, actually. Nothing to worry about.
” Then she grins, and I know she’s about to say something that’ll either save us or damn us.
“I mean, he’s a very good friend of ours, and he’s super European with all the kisses. You should see him and Luke go at it.”
She chuckles, and I raise an eyebrow at her. The fuck is she doing?
But then I see the way the family is leaning in, confused but intrigued. She’s making it weird for them. Brilliant.
“Oh, yeah.” I grin, deciding to run with it. “I get in there. Tongue and all.”
I’m chuckling now, and Cindy cuts me a side glare that promises retribution later. Worth it for the way Aunt Beatrice looks like she’s swallowed a lemon whole.
“It’s nothing,” Cindy says firmly. “Absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Right,” I add, looking around the table with my best shit-eating grin. “But it’s nice to see the family so concerned about Cynthia. Really heartwarming.”
The sarcasm is thick enough to cut, but I keep smiling. Let them figure out if I’m serious or not.
Arrow appears then like some kind of restaurant ninja, all smooth and in control. “The next course is ready to be served. Pan-seared scallops with cauliflower puree and pancetta.”
He looks at me with a question in his eyes, and I just shrug. Best thing we can do now is act like it’s nothing and move forward. These people are watching us like we’re their personal reality show.
The waiters emerge with plates, and of course Holt is among them. Every eye in the place tracks his movement as he approaches our table. He’s grinning, practically bouncing on his feet.
As he sets a plate in front of me, he clips my chair again. Harder this time.
“Oops,” he states, not even trying to sound sorry. “These new shoes.”
Two can play this game, asshole.
I pull Cindy closer. “Come here, my gorgeous Omega.” Then I kiss her. Not a peck, not a friendly smooch, but a real kiss. The kind that stakes a claim. The kind that says mine in a language everyone understands.
She makes a surprised sound against my mouth, but then she’s kissing me back, and for a second, I forget we’re performing. Her lips are soft, and she tastes like wine and something sweet, maybe lip gloss. When I pull back, her eyes are a little glazed.
Holt has stopped moving. Just standing there holding an empty tray, watching us.
Yeah, that’s right, fucker. We share Omegas no problem, but you trying to sabotage me? That’s a different game entirely.
Cindy nudges me slightly, coming back to herself, then grins at her mother. “Try the food, Mother. You’ll be blown away.”
Victoria picks up her fork as if it might be poisoned, eyes never leaving us.
Holt comes back with the next round, and this fucking time, he actually spills salad into my lap. Mixed greens with what feels like an entire bottle of vinaigrette.
“Oh, shit,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Let me?—”
“It’s fine!” I laugh, probably too loud, grabbing my napkin. The dressing is already soaking through my jeans. “Happens all the time. Slippery hands, right?”
Victoria’s eyes narrow to slits. “Are you sure you two aren’t fighting over my daughter?”
The table goes quiet again. These people love their dramatic silences.
Cindy laughs, but it’s got an edge of hysteria. “If that were true, then I’d just take them both as my Alphas.”
I swear to God you could hear a pin drop. Hell, you could hear a feather drop. In space.
“Cynthia!” Victoria’s voice could freeze hell. “Wash your mouth out this instant.”
“Mother, I was joking?—”
“In our family, Omegas only take one Alpha.” She’s using that tone that probably traumatized Cindy as a kid. “I know many don’t care about propriety anymore, and it’s trendy to be… progressive. But no Williams succumbs to that kind of behavior.”
“It’s not about succumbing—” Cindy starts.
“Men shouldn’t grovel after Omegas,” Victoria continues like Cindy hasn’t spoken. “It should be the other way around. An Omega should be grateful for an Alpha’s attention, not collecting them like… like trading cards.”
“Trading cards?” Cindy’s voice is incredulous.
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
I decide to jump in before this escalates. “I’d support Cynthia if she wanted another Alpha.”
Every head swivels to me.
“Nothing wrong with adapting to modern traditions,” I continue, casual as fuck while wiping salad dressing off my lap. “World’s changing. People are finding what works for them instead of what worked for their grandparents.”
“That’s very… progressive of you,” Aunt Beatrice says.
“Very realistic of me,” I correct. “Cynthia is incredible. Of course other Alphas would want her. I’d be more worried if they didn’t.”
“You wouldn’t be jealous?” One of the twins asks.
“Of what? I’m the one here with her, aren’t I?” I squeeze Cindy’s hand. “Besides, jealousy is just insecurity with a fancy name.”
“How modern,” Victoria says coldly.
“How honest,” I shoot back.
We all turn to our food, which is admittedly fucking amazing. Arrow might be a pain in my ass, but the man and his team can cook. The scallops are perfect, buttery and sweet, and the cauliflower puree is so smooth it’s basically silk.
I keep Cindy’s hand in mine while we eat, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. She’s still tense, but every touch seems to relax her a fraction. I can’t stop thinking about earlier, going down on her in her bedroom, how she tasted, how she sounded when she came.