Episode 15 A Bite of Bitterness
Florence
We head to a cafe just down the road that serves coffee, pastries, and smoothies.
Before I went on the show Ginny and I would come here after every class she took, we’d get a snack and catch up.
Mostly it was her telling me about her week, the drama she’d been going through at school, the friends who were in a fight, who was dating who, that kind of thing.
We’ve had to stop that tradition though. People got too weird about it, about me. And the last thing I want is to expose my little sister to their rude comments and sense of propriety, as though I owed them something.
But with the five members of the Ashbourne Pack clustered around me, I have the feeling that no one is going to say anything, not to us directly.
Though as we walk down the street, there are a fair number of heads turned, whispers behind cupped hands, furtive glances as though that will hide their attention from us.
It doesn’t.
Even worse, as we approach the cafe, a paparazzo pops out in front of us, snapping picture after picture. Grieves growls and steps in front of me, while the others tighten around me, hiding me from view of the camera.
“Back up,” Grieves snarls.
“Are you here because Florence is your fated mate?” he asks, still snapping pictures, lifting his camera high as though he can get it tall enough to photograph me over the hulking alpha.
“Why we’re here is none of your concern,” Forsythe sounds polite, but his body is tense, muscles flexing in a way that lets me know he’s on the verge of losing it. Thayer wraps an arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his chest, while Piers and Court press in closer.
It's already too late, though. I know that.
He got the picture well before we were aware of his presence. The five of us walking down the street together. Hardly worth worrying about.
Well, not on my end I guess. Maybe for them it’s a lot worse.
Maybe the queen doesn’t know they’re here, and they’re hoping to keep it that way.
But that would be foolish, right? To think they could come here and find me and accost me in public to force me to talk with them, without having anyone take our picture.
No, they must have been aware that this might happen.
But it doesn’t mean that they have to be happy about it.
There’s the thud of multiple boots thundering toward us, and when I look up from the shelter of Thayer’s arm, I find six men in black suits have surrounded us. Including one familiar blond head.
The man Creed clocked as following me, the one that I’ve seen countless times over the last month.
“You’ve had someone watching me?” I murmur the words, but by the way Grieves’ shoulders stiffen I know he heard me. “Grieves?”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I needed to know you were safe.”
As if that should be enough of an answer.
We start moving again, the guards keeping the photographers away from us, as we go.
Emotions swirl in my stomach and I try to parse through them, to figure out how I feel about this revelation.
On one hand, it makes me feel warm and cared for, like it’s so sweet.
But on the other it’s just another way that proves that they knew who I was to them.
He needed to know I was safe, but not enough to come to me himself.
We reach the cafe, and I’m ushered inside the space. The few customers glance up at us as we enter, then do double takes as they realize just who the pack is that I’m with. My cheeks heat under the attention, but I keep my chin up.
“I’m sorry, cor mea,” Sythe says as he ushers me to a table away from the windows, his broad palm pressing into the small of my back. “I didn’t think they would be that aggressive.”
I wave a hand. “It’s a problem for celebrities here. We’re hot news right now. It's not surprising they found us. Like Grieves said, it wouldn’t take much for anyone to find out where I work.”
I’m being incredibly chill about this, which is a surprise to me.
I don’t like feeling as though my privacy is for sale to the highest bidder.
But maybe the experiences I’ve had recently have managed to mellow me out a bit.
To not let something like a photograph of me with the Ashbourne pack bother me all that much.
They, on the other hand, might have a problem with it… or more specifically, the Queen might have a problem with it.
“What do you want, Pixie?” Courtland asks, fingers curled around the back of an empty chair so tight his knuckles are white.
“The banana berry blast?”
“You got it.”
“Black tea for me. With milk.” Forsythe requests as he settles into the chair next to me.
While Court and Piers go to place our orders with a gobsmacked looking barista, Thayer and Grieves settle at the table around me.
“Does your grandmother know you're here?” I blurt out before I can think the better of it.
“If she doesn't, she certainly will in the next few hours.” The prince doesn’t sound worried about that outcome, and it makes my heart flutter with hope. If he doesn’t care that she knows he’s here, does that mean he might be considering taking me as his omega? As their mate?
“I should think she’d be wise enough to know we’d come to you when it was announced you were our mate on international television. It would have looked bad if we hadn’t.”
And that little flicker of hope sputters and dies.
Optics. That’s why they’re here.
“Sythe,” Thayer all but barks at him. “Think about what the fuck you just said to your bloody mate.”
Forsythe’s brows draw down as he reviews his previous statement and I get the treat of watching his skin go pale.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Ren.” He reaches for me, but I flinch back.
There’s a rasping sound as he scrubs that same hand over his beard.
“I meant as far as she’s concerned, it would look bad. We would have come regardless.”
“But you didn't, did you? You knew for a few days who I was to you, that I was sick. Grieves knew we were fated for a month. And you didn’t come until the rest of the world knew it too. What am I supposed to think about that?”
Piers and Court join us, glancing around at all of our serious expressions. “What’s going on?” Piers asks hesitantly.
“Just curious about why you didn’t bother to come to me when you found out I was sick. Why you waited until Heather Howle basically forced your hand with that stunt at the interview?”
“Why didn’t you tell us, bubbles?” Grieves asks. “You knew for a month. Didn’t say a goddamn thing, did you? Just suffered all that time without giving us the chance to make it right.”
I shrug. “You made your choice. You rejected me. I wasn’t going to put myself into the very fragile position of letting you do it again. Why would I?”
“We’re your mates, Pix.”
“Sometimes that’s not enough,” I mutter, staring at the table while I say it, knowing in my bones that it’s the truth.
“We’re here now,” Thayer says, sliding his hand across the table toward mine, like he might take it, but I’m quick to tuck both into my lap. “We want to figure this out with you.”
I snort. “Figure out what? How you can stash me away, safe and sound, waiting for you to grace me with your presence?”
“No, we want to figure out how we can be with you, cor mea.”
Figure it out. As if it’s a hard thing to consider. When really it’s as simple as making a choice. Choosing to be with me and not Isadora. But that’s never going to happen.
I nod. “Right. You want to be with me. I notice there’s been no statement released to the media regarding the status of your relationship with Isadora.
That you haven’t said anything along the lines of ‘in light of recent developments, our betrothal to Isadora Aureline is dissolved.’ Is a statement like that coming anytime soon? ”
The silence at the table is answer enough.
Court’s lips part and I know whatever he says isn’t going to be an answer, but something more wheedling, more flirty, more fuckboy than I want to hear, so I hold up a hand and turn my attention to Grieves.
“This is why I didn’t tell you when I was diagnosed, when I realized what we were to each other.
I knew it wouldn’t make a fucking difference. ”
There’s a squeak of noise to my right, drawing my attention to the barista standing there, holding a tray laden with drinks and pastries.
“Sorry, I just… I’ll just…” She slides the entire tray onto the table and then hightails it back to the counter where she huddles with the other employees whispering and casting those all too familiar furtive glances in our direction.
“Sunshine,” Piers sighs.
“Is this where you tell me I’m being unreasonable?”
“No. Never. You’re more than entitled to your feelings, and I want to be clear that your distrust is entirely valid.
” It's on the tip of my tongue to sarcastically thank him for validating my feelings, but this is Piers and I know he doesn’t mean anything by it.
He’s really just trying to support me, while also supporting his pack.
What an awful spot for him to be in when the two positions seem so diametrically opposed.
“But at the same time, Ren, you can’t honestly think any of us will be okay leaving you here to suffer. Do you really think so little of us?”
“Do you really think I’ll be okay leaving my entire life behind to trot after you to Bravonne like a good little omega and let you hide me?” I all but snarl, not feeling an ounce of guilt, because I know that’s what they expect from me.
“I’ll be fine here,” I tell him, There isn’t any other option. I refuse to let them be my downfall, to be the reason I crumble.