Chapter 4 #2
Bianca grimaced. These old-timers had already outlived two mates?
She needed to find out more about their health before pursuing them seriously.
She didn’t want to juggle their saggy balls for the next twenty years, but she wouldn’t write them off just yet.
Perhaps they’d used up all their energy on their first two mates and would die soon.
Maybe the third time would be the charm.
“I do think they’re here somewhere. Come and I’ll introduce you.
” Astrid clamped a greedy claw on her arm and frowned.
“Goodness, Bianca, how much have you been working out? Your bicep is hard as a rock. How many times do I have to remind you that men don’t like muscular women? Alphas expect their omegas to be soft.”
Bianca took another deep breath. This, too, was a well-worn argument, and one that never ceased to annoy her. Norwegian women tended toward sturdier stock, so Astrid’s expectations were truly baffling.
“You were a prima ballerina when you met your first mates. They didn’t care that you had toned arms.” Bianca kept her voice even when she replied, though she felt like screaming.
Astrid gave an affected laugh that grated on Bianca’s nerves.
“I had other attractions that you lack, like demureness, femininity, and passion. You’re too hard and cold, elskling.
It’s why you didn’t go farther in ballet, and why you haven’t found mates.
Oh well, it can’t be helped now. Stand up straight and push your shoulders back.
You need to show off the assets you do have. There they are!”
Bianca regretted every decision that had led her to this point in her life.
She suddenly wished she was anywhere but in Astrid’s grasp in this damn theatre surrounded by these boring people.
She thought she might start screaming if she had to hold her tongue much longer, and she hated the fact that she’d let her mother get to her.
Astrid’s words stung because there was truth in them. Bianca’s cold calm didn’t endear her to others. She’d effectively suppressed her emotions for so long that she might never rediscover anything like passion. Nor did she want to.
Passion led to foolishness. It led to dumb mistakes and hurt feelings, and Bianca wanted no part of that.
What Bianca wanted was for Astrid to choke on her champagne.
It wasn’t as though her mother was a model of feminine fire or anything.
Whatever passion Astrid possessed must’ve been reserved for her mates; she’d always been distant with Bianca.
Which was just fine, since Bianca had no desire for a closer relationship.
Astrid’s approval was every bit as exhausting as her displeasure.
Bianca shouldn’t have told Astrid about her interest in Pack Willoughby.
It had been a momentary lapse in judgement, borne out of spite.
She didn’t want to meet the old geezers on Astrid’s terms, didn’t want to be weaving through this crowd of people, and she definitely didn’t want to be in her mother’s grip for another second.
“Ms. Bonnycastle.” A smooth voice came from her other side and a light touch at her elbow sent electricity coursing through her body. She turned to meet the pretty bodyguard’s dark gaze. “I need to escort you to the stage now.”
Bianca blinked at him, dazedly. She’d been a breath away from losing her shit, but he had certainly distracted her from that. She nodded at him sharply and pulled free of Astrid’s hold.
“Introductions will have to wait, I’m afraid.” Bianca gave her mother a tight smile. “I’ll find you at intermission.”
The pretty bodyguard placed a hand on her lower back and steered her through the crowd.
Bianca knew that Astrid wouldn’t be deterred so easily, but it was still a relief to escape her, however temporarily.
Between the champagne and the emotional rollercoaster her mother put her through, Bianca felt a little unsteady.
That must’ve been why she didn’t insist that her security guard take his big, warm hand off her back.
All too soon, they were in the relative dimness and quiet bustle of backstage, and his hand was gone, leaving a desperate ache in its wake.
Bianca tried to tamp the emotion down, to bury the heat and excitement he’d awakened beneath layers of ice and composure.
Around them, dancers stretched, and stagehands scurried about doing their final checks.
On the other side of the curtain, Bianca could hear the murmur of the audience members who’d already taken their seats.
“I thought I had another ten minutes before I was due back here,” Bianca said, after they’d stood in silence for several long minutes. She didn’t look at him, but she knew those black eyes were watching her.
“You did,” he replied simply.
Bianca was relieved when Maude and Amelia appeared a minute later, reminding her of the names of major donors to thank and touching up her lipstick. Her assistants would be the buffer between her and her new security team. Bianca clearly needed to keep Pack King at arm’s length.
She was still thinking about intense black eyes and big, warm hands when she took the stage.
Luckily, she could give her standard spiel on autopilot.
Blah, blah, blah, generous donors. Blah, blah, blah, making the world a better place.
She gave a gushing shoutout to her famous ballerina mother, who waved from her parents’ box to enthusiastic applause, and then Bianca was blessedly free to retreat to her own box to enjoy the performance.
Technically, her box also belonged to her parents, but they reserved it for their children, which meant Bianca, since her brothers required serious bribery to attend the ballet.
Though there was more than enough room in Pack Bonnycastle’s box for Bianca and her siblings, they all preferred the separation.
Bianca definitely did, at least. It was one of the few so-called gifts from her parents that she actually enjoyed.
She loved the ballet, loved to get lost in the stories the dancers told with their bodies.
Once the auditorium lights dimmed and the curtains rose, Bianca let herself be transported.
For sixty minutes, she forgot about security details and frustrating mothers, fully immersed in the movement and artistry of the performance.
She was barely aware that Quentin King was just beyond the door, his scent doing its best to find its way to her nose.
None of that mattered while the music swelled and the dancers leapt. It was just Bianca and the magic.
Then it was intermission, and she had barely left her seat before Astrid and the fathers appeared, eager to introduce her to Pack Willoughby.
She allowed herself to be led through the crowd, once more acutely aware of the three alphas watching her from the shadows.
Though she tried to maintain her annoyance with her bodyguards’ presence, she found them much less irritating than the three alphas who’d hired them.
“How are you getting on with your security detail?” Arthur asked as they walked, as if he’d read her thoughts. “They’re a new firm, but I was impressed with their military records. And Dan the Van was one hell of an athlete. Shame about his injury. He could’ve had a long career.”
“It’s good we found King’s Guard when we did. They’re a steal right now, but I’m sure they’ll be raising their rates soon,” another of her dads, Gregory, interjected.
Of all her parents, Gregory was the most miserly.
Bianca knew he was the only one in the pack that hadn’t been born wealthy.
To his great shame, he’d been raised upper middle-class.
Since jumping several tax brackets after joining Arthur Bonnycastle’s pack, he clung to his money and status as if fearful the last forty years of opulence had been a fluke.
“Of course they will,” Astrid replied breezily. “With Pack Bonnycastle on their resume, they’ll attract an entirely new breed of clientele. I hope they can handle it. That one with the sparkly teeth seems like he might not be house trained.”
Bianca narrowed her eyes. She’d thought worse, but something about hearing it in her mother’s delicate accent was infuriating. Winston chuckled, though Gregory and Arthur didn’t seem amused.
“You mean the Black one, Astrid?” Bianca kept her voice cold and indifferent, though she was boiling inside. “Did you have to train your Black mates?”
Astrid’s face turned an indignant shade of red. “I didn’t say anything of the sort. You know I would never! That man is nothing like your fathers–”
Bianca tried not to smile triumphantly as her mother sputtered and stumbled over her words.
This wasn’t the first time the Norwegian ballerina had put her foot in her mouth around her Black mates and biracial daughter.
It was satisfying to make her uncomfortable, even though Bianca knew she’d pay for it later.
Astrid always managed to get the last laugh.
“Mr. King and his packmates are of a different class, but military men know how to handle business, and how to respect their betters,” Winston interrupted, rescuing his mate from her discomfort. “Besides, that other fellow is a smooth talker. They’ll be fine.”
“He looks like a smooth talker and not at all trustworthy.” Astrid sniffed, glancing disapprovingly at the pretty security guard where he stood watching Bianca from the shadows near the doors to the auditorium. “Are you sure you weren’t swindled by their all-American story?”
“Do you not trust veterans or is it Latinos who are the problem?” Bianca asked. She knew she was pushing it, but her mother brought out her bratty side. “I notice you haven’t said anything disparaging about the blonde one. I wonder why he doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Bianca Bonnycastle–” Astrid began indignantly.
“Enough.” Arthur’s voice thrummed with alpha command, the compulsion chafing at Bianca’s nerves.
Astrid’s mouth snapped shut immediately, and she bowed her head, subtly baring her neck in submission.
Arthur took Astrid’s arm and gave Bianca a pointed look.
“We know how to vet our employees and our mates. King’s Guard will keep Bianca safe, and Astrid isn’t racist for being concerned about her daughter’s safety.
Now smile, both of you, and let’s introduce Bianca to Pack Willoughby. ”
Unsurprisingly, Pack Willoughby had little to offer in the area of physical attraction.
They were distinguished-looking men who must’ve been handsome enough in their youth.
The benefits of wealth and their designation had served them well, keeping them in better health than Bianca had expected for octogenarians.
The pack leader was a little stooped, and one of the others was clearly a bit hard of hearing, but they were all virile enough to ogle her tits.
It was a convenient distraction for them, since Bianca found it difficult to pay attention to the tedious conversation they were having with her parents.
She tried to feign interest, while being once again acutely aware of Pack King’s whereabouts.
It was impossible to care about Pack Willoughby’s pleasant but unremarkable scents, when she’d been breathing in Pack King all evening.
It was laughable entertaining Pack Willoughby’s advances when her body was still humming from the pretty bodyguard’s brief touch.
Luckily, despite her alpha-addled instincts, Bianca Bonnycastle was no fool. She knew how to make a good first impression. Pack Willoughby might just meet all of her requirements, especially if their medical records checked out in her favor. She’d see what Amelia and Maude could find out.
In the meantime, Bianca smiled and leaned toward Pack Willoughby, making the most of the assets she had, as Astrid had so eloquently put it.
She played her part better than usual, letting the old men believe the sparkle in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks was for them, and not the three brown-eyed alphas watching her from the shadows.