Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Callum
Callum tried not to be too disappointed by Bianca's silence.
Unfortunately, he was used to being disappointed in people.
Though he'd never had much trouble making friends or finding lovers, maintaining those relationships was another matter entirely.
It was so easy for people to be attracted to his money, looks, or scent, only to lose interest when they realized his family's wealth didn't extend to him, beyond an allowance generous enough to keep up appearances and keep him quiet.
When they found out he was more than just a party boy looking for temporary fun, they quickly extricated themselves from any blossoming situationships.
Callum didn’t know how to do things by halves, so he tended to put way more energy into others than they put into him. He wouldn’t call it love bombing, exactly. More like love confetti. Fun but messy.
Inevitably, he’d end up hurt and disappointed, haunted by the ever-present specter of his loneliness. Callum spent far more time alone than he would've liked. It didn’t matter if he was at the southern estate or vacationing in the city. He still woke up alone.
He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have people who loved him.
Growing up at the country estate of distant relatives wasn't as terrible as he sometimes made it sound.
His home was gorgeous, his private education was top notch, and his guardians were good people.
The third cousin twice removed who'd taken him in was a feisty old omega he called Aunt Dolly, since it seemed absurd calling a woman her age his cousin. She'd seen a lot of shit in her lifetime, and had survived a loveless but lucrative first mating, before retiring to an opulent home on the Savannah River near the plantations where she’d grown up among her Merriwether kin. Before Callum moved in, she lived quietly with her longtime lady’s maid, a sweet-faced old beta who the family pretended not to know was the true love of her life.
Aunt Dolly and Irene liked having Callum around to keep them company.
They let him be himself and nurtured the same flair that had so horrified his parents.
Even after he’d come of age, they made it clear that their home was his forever.
They welcomed him back whenever he returned from cabin-fever-fueled shenanigans in some big city and made him regale them with tales of his exploits over expensive wine and Irene’s homemade kimchi mac and cheese.
It was his favorite comfort food, one of many recipes the tenderhearted old beta had mastered in an effort to give him a taste of both halves of his heritage.
It was far more than his Korean mother or his Black fathers had bothered to do.
Aunt Dolly and Irene also told him hard truths, which is partly why Callum had accepted his parents’ invitation back to Smyrna City. They’d said, in no uncertain terms, that it was time to get off of his bullshit.
“You’re never gonna be happy vacillating between us old biddies and big city lights,” Aunt Dolly had said matter-of-factly over breakfast when he’d gotten the text declaring his exile lifted. “You’ve been doing that shit long enough. That dog won’t hunt. Time to put it down.”
Irene had looked scandalized. “Dorothy Jean, I do declare you can be so vulgar for a well-bred woman! What Dolly means to say, sugar, is that we all know this ain’t the life you want.
This is your home and will be for the rest of your life, whenever you want it, but it ain’t what you need right now. ”
Aunt Dolly had covered his hand with hers, her mahogany skin crisscrossed with wrinkles but her grip firm and steady. “I found my forever a long time ago but couldn’t be with her until we’d survived decades of bullshit. I don’t want that for you. I want you to live every moment on your own terms.”
Irene’s eyes had gone all shiny, and Aunt Dolly rolled hers, though Callum saw her take her partner’s hand beneath the table.
They were opposites in so many ways, Aunt Dolly thin and hard-edged while Irene was round and unfailingly kind, but they were perfect for one another.
They were probably at least forty percent to blame for Callum’s hopeless romantic streak.
Irene smiled at him as she dabbed at her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of happy years in front of you, Cal. Go figure out how you want to spend them and who you want to spend them with. We’ll be here with the wine and kimchi mac waiting to hear all about it.”
“I can’t wait to annoy you about grandbabies,” Aunt Dolly added, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I call dibs on their first Christmas. I look forward to arguing with your in-laws about it. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve had anyone to antagonize. You and Irene are far too agreeable.”
Returning to his hometown was an intimidating prospect.
Callum had long accepted that he would never be the man his parents wanted him to be.
He hadn’t been the least bit surprised when he’d revealed as an omega.
In fact, he thought he might’ve even manifested it, given how little he actually wanted to be an alpha—or at least not the kind of alpha his parents expected from the heir apparent to the Clifton-Merriwether empire.
It'd been a massive relief when Chloe had come along and been everything he wasn’t: obedient, interested in the family shipping business, tech savvy, and willing to entertain their parents’ conservative ideals.
She’d taken the pressure off of him and been the only person before Dolly and Irene who gave him space to be himself.
Even after Pack Merriwether sent him away, Chloe insisted on staying in touch.
When their parents tried to cut off communication, she simply used her eerily advanced technology skills to circumvent their efforts.
They finally just gave up. Though Callum barely knew his younger siblings at all, Chloe held a special place in his heart.
It was just like her to use her own mating to benefit him.
He knew she loved her alphas, but she could’ve had her pick.
He and Chloe had both inherited their mother’s supermodel looks, and Callum knew their parents had coaxed his sister onto dates with every coveted pack of alpha males in the country.
When she made it clear she preferred women, he was happy for her, though he didn’t see the appeal.
Callum had always been more partial to men or nonbinary alphas and betas and had never been attracted to another omega of any gender.
He adored women, but didn’t desire them.
It’d annoyed his parents to no end, despite the fact that few people outside their rich, stuffy circles cared about that kind of shit anymore.
So, when Callum spotted Bianca Bonnycastle at that fundraiser, he hadn’t immediately recognized what he was feeling.
He just knew he had to talk to her, to get closer to her.
He told himself it was because, based on the gossip he’d gleaned, he thought they might be kindred spirits. And he’d been right.
But that wasn’t the only reason he was drawn to her.
In fact, when Callum caught her strangely intoxicating oleander and apple scent, there had been a very non-platonic stirring in his cock.
And when she let him lead her to the bar, the thrill of touching her had only intensified the unfamiliar appeal.
It’d been hard not to get lost in her startling gray eyes, especially when he’d surprised a laugh out of her, and they’d softened from cool titanium to a color more like ocean waves during a storm.
Based on the way her incredibly attractive bodyguards watched her, Callum knew he wasn’t the only one captivated by the forbidding beauty.
There was obviously no truth to the mean-spirited rumors that she couldn’t find a pack.
How could anyone resist her? The problem had to be that she just hadn’t found any alphas worth her time.
Which was why Callum needed to get his shit together and accept that her friendship would have to be enough for him.
He couldn’t compete with an alpha, especially not that tall, dark, drink of water pack leader who made him want to kneel and bare his neck every time they made eye contact.
Or that suave bastard with eyes full of dark promises who’d almost made him cream his slacks on the dance floor.
And, despite Bianca’s chilly persona, he thought even she couldn’t help but find that giant himbo attractive.
Callum couldn’t blame her for any of that.
He certainly wouldn’t kick them out of bed.
He just wished someone wanted him that way. Especially Bianca Bonnycastle.
Honestly, Callum was surprised she’d agreed to see him again.
After all, she’d left him on read for days then ditched him for the uppity omega crowd.
Of course, he knew how coveted invitations to those brunches were, but he was also sure Bianca’s position was secure enough that she could miss it if she wanted to.
And she had wanted to, until she’d had a few days to think about what a loser he was.
He knew the omegas at that brunch would be delighted to tell her any sordid stories they might’ve heard about him, complete with extra embellishments to make his exploits more scandalous than they were.
Which is why he had been downright shocked when she’d texted to renew their plans for the afternoon.
Callum smoothed down his shirt, trying to look casual as he strolled the cobblestone paths of Smyrna City’s upscale “shopping village.” It was really a glorified outdoor mall, but the clientele who could afford to shop the row of boutiques and specialty shops would never patronize anything so common as a mall.
This place was a perfectly manicured masterpiece of elegance and excess. There was even valet parking.