Chapter 12
12
Layne
“ D ante, you promised!”
“I did not,” he snaps back without smiling, though his eyes flash with mischief. But the look vanishes in the next blink when he drops back into protection mode.
The three of them have been getting increasingly anxious. I know it’s not because of the money they’re spending, because I told them I’d had enough hours ago, and they cooed and soothed like only a pack can. Before spending even more.
I seriously feel like I’ve put in an extreme session at the gym from all the squatting I have done, and I’m definitely hiding how much my side hurts. I never knew pulling up this dress, climbing out of that one, trying on leather pants so tight I had to lie down to do the zipper would be so tiring. The cargo space of the Escalade is so full of designer bags that they spill onto the rear seat. Still, they won’t stop spending.
“Last one,” Matteo says, holding an arm out for me to hold on to.
The front of the shop is all white, except for a small line of black lettering running across the glass spelling out bello in elegant script. Matteo presses the buzzer, and as we wait, he turns to face me.
“Are you doing okay? It must be overwhelming.”
“Living the dream everyone wants?” I tease him, because it is a dream and I’m somehow the one living it.
“You agreed to this.” He brushes a strand of my hair back behind my ears, his gaze dropping to my lips before he takes a small step back, putting space between us.
When I look at him in question, he smiles. “I am not kissing you for the first time on this doorstep. If it was our doorstep at home, I wouldn’t have an issue, but not here.”
I look at him seriously. “I kissed you the other night, so…”
“I know. But when I kiss you for the first time, I have every intention of taking my time. Okay?”
I don’t get the chance to answer him, because the door swings open, and I see exactly the type of establishment it is—a salon.
“Mr. De Luca and the soon-to-be Mrs. De Luca, I presume?” A stunning, dark-haired, dark-skinned vixen speaks in such a way- it sounds like a husky come on. Her voice is as lush as she is. “Welcome. I’m Dani.”
A look of satisfaction crosses Matteo’s face at her use of “Mrs. De Luca.” The whole day—actually, from the second I agreed to our deal—it’s been a rollercoaster of contradictions, and Pack De Luca seems to enjoy pretending we’re not pretending.
Dani waits for us to both pass before she closes the door, but Valentine stops it with his hand and steps in too. His eyes narrow at her, his mood plummeting to damn near frosty, and I drop my hand from Matteo’s to walk in front of him, wanting an explanation.
Instead of one, I get a small squeeze on my hip before he focuses his attitude on Dani. “You cleared all appointments off your books?”
“Yes, sir, exactly like you asked. I have two attendants waiting, but besides us, the place is locked up.”
“Cameras?”
“No. You made it very clear what would happen if we had cameras recording this afternoon.”
“You won’t mind if I take a look around, then, right?” Valentine walks off without waiting for her response.
Dani doesn’t seem flustered or concerned; she waves me over to the chairs on the opposite side of a glass consulting desk while Valentine does his thing. Matteo sits on the seat next to me, his arm up over my shoulder.
Damn, this pack is very good at keeping up appearances and making me feel a part of it too.
“So, Layne, we have you booked for a full-treatment package, head-to-toe indulgence. Anything we need to be aware of?”
“Our fiancée has a bad allergy to fish and shellfish, so you will not place her at risk,” Matteo says, jumping in, the threat in his tone clear. “If you are unsure, don’t use the product. And since you now know that detail, we would view Layne being hurt or upset as concerning.”
Dani’s eyes flare slightly, and she leans away from his dump of aggression. I do what feels natural and sit on his lap, grounding him, in a sense, with my weight. Which is more difficult than it sounds, especially because he’s overly wooden, but I twist to look at him, not at all worried about what it looks like to Dani. It’s not her business; it’s ours.
I think there are people in the world you share an instant connection with. Jana and her pack were a reminder of that, and so is the man I’m sitting on. From the instant I was drawn to him in the alley, I’ve leaned in to the feeling. It’s why I agreed so quickly to the deal they offered. The more time I spend in his company, the more apparent it is too. I look at Matteo and see a man who ticks all these boxes in my mind. His designation is largely forgotten, and when his emotions and presence surge like this, I get thrown again by the fact he’s a Beta.
I wait calmly, watching the small muscles in his jaw soften before the glare in his eyes disappears too.
“We’re good, aren’t we?”
I feel his thumb circling on the top of my bare calf. Neither of us has to dissect the proof of touch between compatible designations and instant connections. And when I search his eyes, I notice there’s no surprise in his eyes that I can calm him; if anything, he looks a little cocky in a very Matteo way.
Staying on his lap, I turn back to Dani, and she has a folder out in front of her, elegant reading glasses perched on her nearly perfect nose.
“When Mr. De Luca booked, I checked our product range then and also took the liberty just now to triple-check. Unless the ingredients are not listed properly, I assure you, none of these contain guanine or any other marine by-product.”
I swing around to look at Matteo, and he nods at her, his hand creeping up higher, but that’s a different issue.
“Will you be waiting? The treatments will take a few hours.”
“We’re waiting. Leave the doors open,” Valentine says before he stares her down. Like, stares her down until she drops her eyes and apologizes.
I look at him, horrified at him being such a douche, and he has the audacity to wink.
I know exactly what he’s doing. I can practically hear him whispering in my ear, asking if this is what I meant when I questioned his Mafia-linity in the kitchen earlier.
I shouldn’t laugh—the Alpha just ripped her submission from her—but I struggle not to, which makes Valentine’s eyebrows lift in mock shock.
Dani leads me into the treatment room and, true to her word, I get waxed, buffed, and polished to within an inch of my life. A completely different pleasure hums through almost every cell in my body as I walk back to where Valentine and Matteo are waiting. My hair is done, my eyebrows so damn perfect, and I feel incredible.
I walk straight to Valentine, sliding my hand on to his waist. “Thank you.”
He clearly took what I said in the kitchen as some weird challenge because he grabs me by the throat, his hand squeezing, making it hard to swallow.
“Can I ask exactly what you are doing?” I rasp out past the pressure along my throat.
“Just feeling how beautifully you swallow.” Valentine watches my eyes as he presses harder, and he smirks…until I lean into it, and then he drops his hand like I burned him.
As he walks past me, he leans down and whispers filthy promises in my ear that come out as low, suggestive rumbles, but I understand, all the same.
Matteo steps in front of me and holds up a garment bag. “Dante will be pissed he didn’t get to see you walk out. He’s outside keeping an eye on things, but he probably won’t ever do that again when he realizes what he missed out on. We’re using the room to change,” he throws over his shoulder, not as a polite request or a question, mind you.
Closing the door behind us, he hangs the bag on the back of the door and unzips it, revealing a long-sleeve, floor-length burgundy dress I’d admired earlier. The material looks like flowing water.
“May I?” Matteo steps behind me, his hands coming around me from behind, but waiting before they touch the buttons of my white shirt.
“Of course.”
He flips my hair out of the way, leaning down to drag his nose along my throat and over my scent gland. I jump a mile, stunned by the sensitivity of the spot. I’ve had other people touch it, and it’s never felt the way he just made it.
It must have acted like a switch, because I scent up the room.
“I’m sorry.” I’m flustered, trying to figure out a way to stop my body from responding.
“Never apologize for being yourself.”
“We’re going out to the hospital next, though, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” His fingers are barely moving, though they’re busy opening the buttons. He is so careful and delicate in what he does, but he also holds some stronger traits that would rival some of the other Alphas I’ve met, which isn’t a normal Beta characteristic. The longer I spend with Pack De Luca, the more I find myself falling under, and enjoying, their mysterious uniqueness.
We don’t talk, and he stays behind me as he undresses me. The shirt goes first, then the long matching skirt I found earlier in the closet. The labels were still on it, but the price was missing, and I’m pretty sure that’s because they don’t use price tags at that boutique.
Standing with Matteo at my back, I feel shielded. It’s an odd sensation. I also know his intention before he even touches over the strapping and the fading bruises.
“I’ll take this tape off when we get home and give you a rubdown.”
I should be locked up in panic, having a man behind me like this, but not once have I felt unsafe with them. I trust my inner wisdom. Even when Matteo’s fingers expertly unclasp my bra and guide it off, I don’t shy away.
His mouth brushes over my shoulder, then he reaches for the dress. The material is softer than it looks, more sumptuous and almost sensual in the way it slides over my skin, making a rush of tingles follow it.
The neckline dips down low. I never would have chosen something like this. I mean, I never could have afforded something like this in my current life, but it takes confidence to wear a dress that screams siren .
Matteo shimmies the dress, so it sits farther down on my hips, before he does the same with each sleeve. He steps back to look at me just as Dante walks in. The looks on their faces are the boost I need.
Want. Desire. And a scent bomb confirms what they think of it.
Dante has another bag in his hand, one I don’t remember getting.
Matteo takes a knee in front of me, pulling up my bare foot to rest on his thigh, and Dante pulls out a thigh sheath.
“Clearly, Layne, if I find another man even thinking of putting his knife in this, I will slaughter him in front of you.” Dante is dead serious as he talks, and his voice is laced with violence. “Valentine has one for you that will work while your courting gift is being finalized.”
“Pardon?”
He flips from being threatening one second to smiling the next. “You seriously didn’t think today was part of our courting gifts, did you?”
“Back it up,” I demand.
“Back you up? That, I can do.”
I glare down at him, and he tips his head to the side, trouble sparkling in his eyes. “We haven’t even started showering you with gifts. This is part of mine, though. You remember that promise I made about teaching you how to defend yourself?”
“I thought we were going to a hospital today.”
“We are. Usually, Vitale is set up in a room in his estate and looked after by a team of nurses. He’s had a bad turn health wise, and his doctor insisted on him being hospitalized for a few days as a precaution. Personally, I’m all for anything that reminds the old fuck he’s dying, and him being in hospital, surrounded by machines will do that.” Dante is almost blasé in the way he speaks, but his eyes betray his real emotion, filling with a venomous anger. He takes a quick breath, closing his eyes quickly and when they reopen, I’m once again thrown by how electric blue they are.
“If we’re going to a hospital, why do I need a knife?”
“Baby, from this point on, you are never to go without a weapon strapped on you somewhere. And without one of us glued to your side,” Dante says firmly, infusing enough of his influence that arguing is pointless.
His long fingers make quick work of the strap, and I’m surprised by the secure way it feels. When he slides the blade into it, his hands trail up unnecessarily higher until my eyes bug out at him.
“You know I’ve already set my alarm, so I’m up first tomorrow morning?”
Matteo releases a deep chuckle, all but confirming he knows what Valentine got up to this morning.
Dante lets my leg down, accepting the shoe from Matteo. Of course it matches perfectly; the burgundy color looks like it was dyed at the same time the dress was. Once I am fully dressed, both of them stand up, and with the way they look at me, I don’t need to ask how I look.
Their unspoken praise has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.