Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
TRINITY
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, smoothing down the black sheath dress I chose for tonight’s bachelorette party.
The silk clings to my curves in all the right places, and for once, I actually feel confident about how I look.
Maybe it’s the lingering effects of last night, or the slowly fading effect of the suppressants, but I feel more like myself than I have in months.
Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I catch Matheo’s reflection in the mirror as he presses a soft kiss to my neck.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice still rough from sleep. “Though I’d be happy to help you try on something else if you want to strip down.”
I give his reflection in the mirror a playful smile. “I’m assuming I wouldn’t be getting dressed again.”
His answering smile is wolfish. “I’m more than happy to stay in tonight if you’d like.”
I laugh, leaning back into his solid warmth. “Tempting, but I can’t abandon Josie for her bachelorette party.”
His hands slide up to rest just below my breasts, thumbs tracing lazy circles that make my breath catch. “What if I made it worth your while?”
“Matheo,” I warn, though there’s no real heat in it. The idea of staying in with all four of them is incredibly appealing, especially after the revelation about Josie’s pregnancy. I could use a night of uncomplicated pleasure.
But I’m the maid of honor. I have responsibilities.
Not that I’m looking forward to it. Keeping Josie’s pregnancy a secret during a night out meant for cutting loose is going to be difficult.
“Fine,” he sighs dramatically, though his eyes remain heated as he studies me in the mirror. “But I expect to be rewarded for my patience later.”
I turn in his arms, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I think that can be arranged.”
Matheo immediately pulls me closer to deepen the kiss, tongue dancing sensually along mine until the taste of him explodes in my mouth.
God, he tastes good.
“So what’s the plan for the men tonight?” I ask, stepping back reluctantly to finish getting ready.
“You’ll have to ask Egret, Brendin, and Saren about that,” Matheo says, his expression shifting slightly. “They organized something good for the bachelor party, according to them, but wouldn’t give the rest of us any details. Probably involves expensive liquor and questionable decisions.”
I pause while applying my lipstick. “Please tell me you won’t do anything that will get you all arrested.”
“I think we’ll manage okay.” He gives me a pointed look. “Though I can’t promise there won’t be fireworks if I’m too many drinks in and they go back to grilling us about you.”
I reach up to straighten his tie. “Tonight is about celebrating their last night of bachelorhood. I doubt they’ll be thinking about me at all while they’re downing shots and celebrating traditional masculinity.”
Matheo’s expression suggests he disagrees, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pulls me close for another kiss, this one deeper and more possessive. “Is that what the ladies have planned? Heavy drinking and self-congratulations?”
“No idea,” I admit. “Brendin’s cousin really wanted to plan the bachelorette and strong-armed Josie into letting her. Honestly, I was just happy to have something taken off my plate. I am hoping it isn’t some sleazy place with male strippers or cock magic.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You think there might be strippers where you’re going tonight?”
“Would you be jealous?” I ask playfully when we break apart.
“Of course I’d be jealous,” he says without hesitation. “But don’t let that stop you from having fun.”
The easy honesty in his answer catches me off guard. No possessive demands or attempts to control what I do. Just honest jealousy tempered by respect for my autonomy.
It’s so different from what I would expect from a typical alpha. No sulking, passive-aggressive comments, or outright and ridiculous demands that I pretend no other men in the world even exist.
“What about you?” I counter. “Do you think there’ll be strippers at the bachelor party?”
“God, I hope not,” Matheo laughs. “That would make an already awkward evening infinitely worse.”
“Now I’m curious about what Egret has planned.”
“Probably something designed to show off,” Matheo mutters. “But like I said, we’ll be fine.”
I’m more than a little worried about how tonight will go. The knowledge of Josie’s pregnancy has put an entirely different spin on all this. Egret, Brendin, and Saren’s invasive interest in my pack makes even less sense now. They shouldn’t have any bandwidth to worry about what’s going on with me.
Unless there is even more to this story than I know.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. A text from Josie.
JosieGrossie: Car’s here! time to party
“That’s my cue,” I say, grabbing my purse. “Try not to let the boys get into too much trouble tonight.”
“No promises,” Matheo grins, walking me to the door. “But we’ll try to bring them all back in one piece.”
As I reach for the door handle, he catches my wrist gently.
“Trinity?”
“Yeah?”
“Have fun tonight. Real fun. Not the kind where you worry about everyone else and forget to enjoy yourself.”
The unexpected tenderness in his voice makes my throat tight. “I will.”
“Good,” he says, pressing one last kiss to my forehead. “Because you deserve it.”
I leave the suite with his words echoing in my mind, a warm feeling spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the tropical climate. Whatever happens tonight, whatever chaos Egret and his pack might try to cause, I have something worth coming home to.
Even if it’s only temporary.
T he car pulls up to what looks like a neon fever dream. Rainbow lights flash across the building’s facade in patterns that make my eyes water. A giant marquee proclaims BOYS NIGHT OUT in glittering letters, complete with silhouettes of muscular men in tiny underwear.
“Oh,” I breathe, staring through the window.
“This is it!” Brendin’s cousin, Erica, squeals from the seat of the SUV, already half-drunk on pre-party cocktails. “Isn’t it perfect?”
I glance at the line of patrons waiting to get in—almost entirely groups of men, many of whom are holding hands.
This looks like a strip club, but I’m getting the distinct impression it isn’t one that typically caters to women.
“Tiffany,” Amelia says slowly, peering through the window with obvious confusion. “What kind of club is this, exactly?”
“The hottest one in town, according to the reviews I read online,” Tiffany answers, clearly not picking up on the obvious. “They have the most gorgeous dancers, and the most amazing craft cocktails, and?—”
“More family jewels than the Tower of London,” Isabelle finishes dryly.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Tiffany’s face crumples as she finally processes our expressions. “I booked this weeks ago when Josie first told me we were doing a bachelorette party. I had no idea it was...you know.”
Holly giggles. “A male strip club catering primarily to gay men?”
Tiffany nods miserably. “I just saw male revue in the description and thought it sounded fun. I already paid the deposit for our VIP table, and it’s non-refundable.”
I catch Josie’s eye in the rearview mirror. She looks torn between laughter and mortification, but just gives me a helpless shrug when our gazes meet.
“No need to waste a deposit,” Amelia declares as she shoves open the door.
Isabelle immediately joins her. They’re both halfway across the parking lot before the rest of us even finish exiting the car.
I almost pity the omega pretty boy who doesn’t see them coming.
The interior of the club definitely passes the vibe check for a bachelorette.
Disco balls cast spinning rainbows across the walls, and the air thrums with electronic music loud enough to feel in my chest. On stage, a performer in nothing but a thong and cowboy hat gyrates around a pole while colored bills flutter around him from the audience.
Our VIP table sits on a raised platform overlooking the main floor, complete with plush seating and its own bottle service. The view gives us a perfect vantage point of both the stage and the crowd below—a sea of men, from casual to flamboyant, enjoying themselves.
I let the other girls get ahead of me, far enough that no one notices when I slip to the bar and instruct the cocktail waiter to bring something special to the table.
“This is actually kind of amazing,” Holly laughs, settling into the middle of the curved booth. “When’s the last time any of us went somewhere this liberated?”
Josie giggles as she takes a seat on the far end of the booth. “Never. Definitely never.”
Even Amelia seems to be warming up to the atmosphere, her rigid posture relaxing as she takes in the spectacle. “It’s certainly energetic.”
“The performers are actually quite talented,” Isabelle observes, a small smile on her normally pinched face as she watches a dancer execute a complicated spin around the pole. “That requires significant upper-body strength.”
The server appears at our table with theatrical flair, balancing a tray laden with drinks and an elaborate cocktail at the center that looks like it belongs in a fairy tale.
The drink towers in a crystal glass, complete with dry ice creating a mysterious fog, edible flowers, and a rainbow of layered liqueurs that catch the disco lights.
“Ladies,” he announces with a flourish that draws attention from nearby tables. “We have something very special for the bride tonight!”
He sets the elaborate creation in front of Josie with a bow. The cocktail comes complete with a curly pink straw shaped like a flamingo and what appears to be actual sparklers embedded in the garnish.
Josie’s eyes go wide as she stares at the drink, then shoots me a panicked look across the table.
I give her the tiniest wink before raising my own glass high.
“Cheers, ladies!” I call out loudly enough to be heard over the pulsing music. “To Josie and her perfect wedding week!”
Josie tentatively brings the flamingo straw to her lips, takes a careful sip, and her face immediately transforms into a brilliant smile of relief.
She realizes what I’ve done—coordinated with the server to bring her something that looks impressively alcoholic but contains nothing stronger than fruit juice and sparkling water.
“Oh my god, this is amazing,” she gushes, taking another enthusiastic sip. “Do you want to try it, Trinity?”
“No way, that’s all yours, bride-to-be,” I laugh, settling back into the plush booth.
Josie stands up suddenly, her glass held high like she’s about to make a royal proclamation. The disco lights catch the crystals on her dress, making her sparkle like the cocktail garnish.
“Wait, wait. I need to say something.” Her voice carries across our section, and even some of the nearby tables turn to look.
“I know I’ve said this a million times already, but Trinity—“ She looks directly at me, her eyes bright with emotion.
“You are literally the most amazing sister and wedding planner in the entire universe.”
My chest tightens unexpectedly at the genuine affection in her voice.
“You’ve handled every crisis, every last-minute change, every ridiculous request I’ve thrown at you this week. And you did it all while looking absolutely gorgeous and keeping your own incredibly handsome pack happy.” She grins. “I don’t know how you do it all.”
“I agree,” Tiffany adds with a lopsided smile. “So far, the only thing that hasn’t gone according to plan is this. And you let me handle that.”
“Here’s to Trinity,” Holly calls, raising her glass.
Even Amelia and Isabelle raise their glasses as we all toast.
I feel a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
For once, I’m not scrambling to fix a crisis or manage someone else’s expectations.
Everything is actually working out. The wedding plans are on track, Josie looks radiant, and even the impossible to impress Mahoney sisters aren’t complaining.
Maybe there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that all of this will work out after all.