Chapter 31
Theo
She spins in place while Imogen and I watch on. She looks stunning in anything but this… midnight blue lace, sheer fabric without a bra. Her nipples aren't visible through the lace pattern, the design hinting at what lies beneath, but her bare flesh is exposed, regardless. The shape cuts open from her collar bone, breast and sternum to her waist, where the dress becomes less sheer in an ombré pattern, hugging her beautiful curves.
"No," I say at the same time as Imogen's enthusiastic "Yes!"
I growl. Ophelia darts between her new friend Imogen and me. I was delighted to take my omega shopping for a dress for the gala. It was last minute. Though the invitations only just arrived, most attendees know exactly when it is, and the women—and men, for that matter—are prepared months in advance.
Omega fashion is a big deal, especially in the High Hills. While the OFA hosts at least two major events like this a year, no omega from the Hills would be caught in the same dress twice. So boutiques are always ready, even for last-minute stragglers like us.
"This dress is not exactly in fashion right now," the shopkeeper tells us. Apparently, lace and sheer fabrics are out, and rhinestones are in. She tells us that Imogen will be wearing a baby blue A-line dress adorned with cascading stones.
"But it doesn't matter if it's hot right now, or passé. You've already got a pack. And you're going to make a statement, right? What better way? You look incredible, Phe," Imogen squeaks and claps.
Ophelia's excitement is contagious. My brothers are going to kill me. Us. Because it doesn't matter if it's in fashion or not. This dress is… fire. It's fucking fire. She's so goddamn sexy; it's taking everything in me to restrain my alpha, to keep from pheromoning all over the damn room and rutting my woman.
I let out a deep breath and look away.
In a rare form of heavy alpha dominance, my voice lowers. "You will not go anywhere without us. You'll stay by one of your mates' side at all times. Are we clear?"
Imogen's eyes immediately downcast, as though she were the one I was barking at.
"Theo…"
"No. I'm sorry, Ophelia. I love you, and if anything were to happen to you…"
Her brow softens a little as she steps closer to me. I don't think I should touch her while she's wearing this dress, but my hand snakes out around her waist regardless.
"So you think I look pretty?"
Her lashes blink slowly, teasingly. I groan. "Alright, time to take this dress off. We need to get the fuck out of here."
Ophelia's face lights up, and she lifts on her tippy toes, smacks her lips on my cheek, disappears into the dressing room to change, and returns a few minutes later wearing jeans and a T-shirt. We buy the dress, but Imogen reminds Ophelia she needs shoes. And since my adorable little walking catastrophe can't walk in heels, it becomes a whole ordeal.
They end up in a shoe store, where Ophelia practices walking in platform heels because Imogen thinks she can pull them off. She cannot, and settles on something with a very low heel. I'm glad Phe's making friends, but, instead of fucking my omega in the backseat of my car after dress shopping like I wanted to—because why else have blackout windows—we're taking Imogen to lunch, so it's turning into a long day.
When Ophelia is distracted, talking to the server—she starts by asking what their favorite thing on the menu is and ends up discussing the merits of afternoon caffeine intake and favorite smoothie recipes—my phone beeps in my pocket. Imogen's goes off a moment later. With a deep sigh, I pull my phone out of my pocket while Imogen digs hers out of her purse.
"Oh, my goodness. This is just terrible." Imogen whispers at me, offended on behalf of Ophelia, which makes me happy. She needs friends on this side of the fence to help her confidence. These battles will be endless for a while.
"What is it?" Ophelia asks once the server finally takes her order.
"Oh, Ophelia. I feel just awful. I don't even know how to show you."
Dial it back, Imogen. Ophelia's worried eyes dart from me to her friend. Her already slightly downturned eyebrows tilt further, making her look especially vulnerable. "Theo?"
"Don't worry about it, bunny, it's just another article. It's nothing."
She slumps in her seat but doesn't seem too upset. "What's this one about?" Because there have been quite a few, now, usually painting her in an unflattering light. Some are about her working at Queenie's, or being from South Loop. The worst, though, are the ones about Alma and the rumors recirculating from that terrible night ten years ago.
Imogen answers, "It's more pictures from your last catering event. They aren't very kind, I'll be honest, but it's clear to anyone who sees this trash they're trying to discredit you. They're getting desperate, because no one believes them."
"Which part?"
Imogen's dainty red painted fingernails, which match her perfectly applied red lips, click her glass. "All of it, of course. But especially the part about the rest of your pack."
Ophelia pulls out her phone. While she doesn't seem to care about the contents of the article, she's horrified by the pictures. They're all of her in her hideous catering outfit with the ugly vest and button-up shirt. In one, she's wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her arm; in another, she's taking a giant bite of a sandwich. She elbows me hard when I start laughing at that one. Despite Enzo being on the receiving end of the Rag's ridicule lately, there aren't any pictures of him, which makes me think someone's specifically out to get my girl.
By the time we get home, my brain is tired, but Ophelia, fortunately, doesn't stress any more about the pictures.
That night, we fell asleep in a pile of limbs. Ophelia and Sully are still dancing around each other, but it's become this weird, heated, sexual tension-building thing between them, so he's not joined her—us—in our sexcapades quite yet. When they finally give in to each other I have a feeling it's going to be explosive. The entire house is gonna be a fuck fest, heat or no heat.
She won't give in to that yet, but I think a spike is coming on. It's been building for weeks. Her temperature gets unbearably warm, and she'll wake up in the middle of the night, delirious and desperate for a knot. By morning, it's faded, but it's happening more frequently. I suspect being around her scent-matches is fucking with the pills' potency.
Since we were so late in preparing for the gala, we were left with very little time to prepare. Most households in the Hills will have hired make-up and hair artists, and Ophelia's never been confident doing any of this herself, so Greta happily helps her get ready.
I've always had a suit handy, as do the others. Enzo and I nearly always wear a three-piece, a vest beneath the suit jacket, but Asher and Sully opt out. Our tuxes, since it's a gala, are black, all with bow ties. Enzo wears a pocket square and has an honest-to-god time piece tucked into one pocket off a chain. He's insufferably perfect.
We may not have been keen to go to this event after the last year and everything going on with Ophelia and the OFA, but I look forward to showing off my omega.
By now, everyone's heard about her thanks to the Rag, so I hope they take flattering photos and are kind with their words about her because I've no doubt they'll be focused on us tonight. I wouldn't think it possible to have an unflattering photo of Ophelia. I may be biased, but she is extremely pretty. But the Rag always finds a way, and my little omega tends to get self-conscious.
If they don't stop writing damaging articles about her, the Rag and Constantine Pack will have words. They're targeting her and I want to know why painting her in a bad light is so important to them, why her cause, our cause, makes them feel threatened. Before I get too full of ideas, I'm pulled from my thoughts as my brothers beside me, waiting at the base of the stairs off the sitting room, all stiffen and stand taller.
I look up as she descends in her only slightly taller-than-flat shoes. Wild beachy waves pulled up and back, exposing her long, soft neck, drawing the eye down to the most incredible figure, in the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.
She takes my breath away.