Chapter Six #2
Fallon hangs up, and we don’t even need to ask for context. It’s obvious. She looks down at herself—completely naked—then over to the chair in the corner where her wedding dress is tossed haphazardly. Then she looks at us.
“Well,” she says dryly. “Don’t think I can go to work in my current outfit.”
The room erupts with laughter. Kingston steps forward, smoothing his hand over her hair before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Hold on one second. Why don’t you take a quick shower, and we’ll bring you something to wear—something boss-lady approved.”
With a playful eye roll, Fallon turns and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“I’m with Romano. I think I’m already in love.”
Kingston chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder. “That’s what mates will do to you.” His voice is low, knowing, entirely too amused at my expense.
The moment we hear the water turn on, he moves toward the closet, rummaging through shelves with an air of confidence that tells me he already knows exactly what he’s looking for.
I frown. “Why didn’t you tell her about the closet?”
Kingston tosses a glance over his shoulder, smirking. “And ruin the magic?”
Before I can argue, he turns back to the open wardrobe, pulling out a matching lavender bra and panty set, followed by a silk lavender blouse, a dark green pencil skirt, and matching heels.
Heels.
Does my mind short-circuit for a second because of the image that provokes? Yeah. Not helpful.
Shaking my head, I shove it aside, pushing off the bed and heading to my own room. A shower is much needed. I just had her, but my body doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo.
I rinse off quickly, the water just hot enough to ease the remaining tension from my muscles, before I step out and pull on gray slacks and a black button-up, leaving the collar open.
By the time I reached the kitchen, everyone else was already gathered there, sipping coffee.
Voss is dressed similarly to me—black jeans, black shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, hair still damp but already pulled back into his usual bun.
Unsurprisingly, Romano is dressed in black jeans and a tee shirt that reads ‘Nerds Are Better.’
I snort at that.
Fallon is already at the counter, laughing as she rolls Kingston’s sleeves up to his elbows, utterly unaware of the fact that he lets her manhandle him like it’s second nature.
Kingston, for his part, looks like he expected this. His black slacks are well-fitted, and his red dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, falling just on the right side of the polished and relaxed.
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms as I watch them. This. This is it right here. Her in our kitchen. Romano being his usual brand of ridiculous. Voss stared at her with a dark glint in his eyes. Kingston is letting Fallon adjust his wardrobe like she’s been here forever.
It’s domestic. Easy.
And fuck me, I think I like it.
Fallon looks up at me, beaming a bright smile. “Are we ready to roll?”
Fallon
February 17th
11:30 A.M
If looks could kill, Amanda Clery would have dropped dead the moment I stepped through the doors. Hell, I could have ended her with my bare hands if I really wanted to.
The moment we walked in, I saw her—tall, willowy, fake blonde extensions curled perfectly around her too-thin face. She was wearing a skintight white dress, which was entirely inappropriate for a fitting appointment and cut so high up her thighs that it barely qualified as clothing.
Her makeup was flawless, perfectly contoured with deep red lipstick that I was pretty sure she applied for the sole purpose of marking whatever she could. Who wears red lipstick to a wedding dress fitting?
The second we entered, she was berating Rose, her voice sharp, cruel, meant to cut. Rose, to her credit, stood her ground, but she was pale, lips pressed together, fingers trembling slightly.
I started toward them, ready to handle it, when I saw Robert—the only other omega at this location—looking shaken and close to tears.
So, I did what any responsible business owner and decent human being would do. I went to comfort Robert. And that’s when Amanda’s true colors showed.
She went from angry beta bride-to-be to desperate slut in record time.
The moment my back was turned, she latched onto Romano, flipping her blonde hair, laughing in that fake breathy way that made my skin crawl.
I would have given her credit for boldness if it weren’t so utterly pathetic.
Romano, bless him, looked mildly horrified—his usual golden-retriever energy completely gone, replaced with pure discomfort as he tried to back away.
Of course, she didn’t take the hint.
The click of my heels against the marble floor must have been a warning because Voss and Jace—who were the closest—immediately turned to watch.
Jace subtly nudged Kingston, who followed their gaze and found me stalking toward them like a lioness on the hunt.
Romano’s eyes darted toward me, silently pleading for rescue.
Amanda, however, was still draped over his arm, her manicured fingers gripping him like she had a claim.
And that did not fucking fly with me.
“Amanda.”
My voice cut through the store like a whipcrack, the power behind it making her startle and turn—but not enough to remove her clawed grip from my husband.
Romano wasn’t moving, standing rigid, his lips pressed together like he was restraining himself from throwing her across the room. Behind him, Kingston, Voss, and Jace stood at attention, watching.
I kept my expression blank, my voice even. “I would like it if you would stop touching him without permission.” Politeness first. Always give them a chance.
Amanda’s red lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, he doesn’t mind. Do you, handsome?” She cooed at him, batting her mascara-thickened lashes.
My vision turned red. I growled, low, warning. “Get. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. Him.”
Amanda’s smirk widened, and she turned around to face me fully, completely unbothered by my apparent rage. “Or what?” she taunted. “I’m allowed to fuck who I want.”
Wrong answer.
I stepped into her space, deliberately ignoring her, looking directly at Romano. “Do you want her to touch you?”
He shakes his head vigorously; His response is instant, sharp, and final. “No.”
She froze. I let my lips curl into a cruel, knowing smile. “Interesting.” Before she could react, I grabbed her wrist, firm but not painful.
Amanda gasped, eyes wide. “What the fuck are you doing? You can’t touch me!”
I let my face smooth into something empty and cold. “Oh? You can do it, but I can’t?”
Her outrage spiked. “What’s it matter to you who I fuck?” she spat. “I know he wants me. We were going to have a quickie in the dressing room. Isn’t that right, darling?”
The laugh that spilled from me was dark, sharp, and meant to wound. “Oh, honey.” With one sharp wrench, I twisted her wrist. The crack echoed through the store.
Amanda’s scream followed a second later, shrill and furious as she crumpled to the ground, clutching her broken wrist.
“That man you’re claiming you were going to fuck?” I knelt beside her, my voice calm, measured, and lethal.
“He’s my husband.”
Her sobs turned to screeches. “He wants me! I don’t care if he’s your husband!”
Finally shaking off his disgusted silence, Romano looked down at her, his usual exuberance nowhere to be found.
“Actually,” he said, his voice eerily blank, “I don’t want to fuck you. I didn’t want you to touch me, but the four no’s I gave you didn’t seem to register.”
Amanda blinked up at him, stunned.
Romano shrugged. “The only reason I didn’t break your wrist myself is because this is my Little Love’s business. Gotta be polite and all.”
Voss was watching me now, adjusting himself, eyes dark with something else entirely.
I pretended not to notice how much that turned me on. Instead, I turned to Rose, who looked more than a little awed and grabbed the store phone from the counter.
“Dial Amanda’s emergency contact,” I instructed. It rang a few times before a man answered, voice exhausted.
“Hello?”
The guys watched me, but I shook my head, giving them a soft smile.
“Hi, Samuel? This is Fallon over at House of Creed.” My voice was light, cheerful, utterly unbothered.
“Oh! Hello. What can I do for you?”
I stepped over Amanda, who was still sniveling on the floor clutching her hand to her chest.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but we can no longer accept Miss Clery as a customer.”
Silence. Then, concern. “Oh no, what happened? Is everything okay?”
I didn’t bother sugarcoating it.
I told him exactly what happened, including Amanda’s claim that she was going to fuck my husband, her refusal to respect his boundaries, Her broken wrist, and the security footage available if he needed proof.
Samuel’s voice hardened instantly. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Now, will you or one of your packmates be picking her up, or should I call the police?”
His answer was instant. “Call the police. They can have her.” Amanda screeched his name, begging. Samuel hung up.
Before I could dial the police, I was suddenly wrapped in warmth. Romano was wrapped around me, arms tight around my waist. And another warm, hard body pressed against my back.
“Mm,” Voss murmured, his lips brushing my ear, his voice full of something dark, possessive, hungry. “I love when you laugh like that. Makes me hard.”
The half-laugh, half-moan that escaped me was utterly involuntary.