Chapter 21 #2
Something stirs in my chest as I blink at him.
“You went and purposely looked to try to find my coffee order?” I rasp.
“Why’re you acting like it’s such a big deal?” he grunts, his thick brows drawing down in confusion.
“It’s just... nice.”
Really nice.
It’s not that no one’s ever gotten me coffee before. I put a hot white chocolate mocha on my rider for a lot of my jobs. But I don’t think anyone has ever looked without being prompted and figured it out without me explicitly telling them.
“Elijah can be sweet when he puts his mind to it,” Beck says, leaning over and brushing my arm with his.
I glance between them, not missing the knowing look that flashes between them.
I feel out of my depth.
We’re outside the view of the cameras now.
Why does this... thing, whatever it is between us, feel more real away from the cameras than in front of them?
Elijah’s gaze returns to me, heavy and thick. I have to fight to keep from squirming.
When he’s not an asshole, it means my body has no choice but to notice just how attractive he is. It’s stupid. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by beautiful people, and I’ve never had this issue.
“Am I interrupting something?” A deep, unfamiliar voice rumbles through the air.
Elijah steps aside, revealing an older man with salt and pepper hair and a general air of authority about him.
My breath catches in my throat the moment I scent his intense hazelnut whiskey scent.
Oh wow.
Okay, I seriously need to take a chill pill. Or a cold shower. Or both. At the same time.
If I felt like I was caught in Elijah’s gaze, I feel like I’m melting under the gaze of this new alpha.
It lingers on me, almost feeling like a caress.
It makes me regret the more casual clothes I chose for this outing.
My leggings and cropped t-shirt feel childish in comparison to his expensive-looking suit.
“No,” Elijah drawls, averting his gaze from me.
“Good. My name is Everett Vaughn,” he says, stepping up to me and extending his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Andromeda.”
The moment our hands touch, a spark runs up my arm. His hand swallows my own. He shakes my hand like he’s spent his entire life shaking the hands of powerful alphas and businessmen.
Probably because he has.
Alphas are naturally more dominant than betas or omegas.
It’s why you can often find a lot of them in leadership positions.
Some of it is stereotyping, because I’ve definitely met plenty of alphas who shouldn’t touch any form of responsibility with a ten-foot pole, but some of it has a basis in fact.
The alpha standing in front of me, with my hand still lingering in his, is the most dominant alpha I’ve ever met.
And being in his presence, surrounded by his hazelnut whiskey scent, is making my inner omega want to bare her neck and start purring.
“Call me Andi,” I say past the lump in my throat.
“Andi,” he says slowly. “Very well. Andi, it is.”
A shiver runs down my spine when he finally releases his hold on my hand. I have to fight to keep from wincing when my chamomile perfume picks up a hint of honey, sweetening in the air around us.
Deep breaths, Andi. Stay calm.
“And who exactly are you, Mr. Vaughn?” I ask, tucking my hands into the pockets of Beck’s borrowed hoodie in an effort to keep my scent under control.
The older man’s startlingly blue eyes twinkle as his lips curve into a small smile.
“Please, no need for the formalities. Call me Everett.”
He pauses, as if waiting for me to say his name.
“Everett, then,” I nod. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, that twinkle not dimming a bit at my blunt words. If anything, he seems to like that I’m showcasing a bit of backbone.
“I’m Beckham’s label executive.”
Well, that explains the fancy suit and the air of authority. This is exactly the kind of alpha my mom would set her sights on to sink her claws into.
Hot. Dominant. And probably filthy fucking rich.
“He’s the label owner too,” Beck says.
Correction: hot, dominant, and definitely filthy fucking rich.
And everyone in this room can tell I’m attracted to him, no thanks to my scent.
“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you. This may be a stupid question, but why exactly am I meeting you?”
“Because I was interested in meeting the omega who has everyone here all riled up,” he says, pitching his voice low.
I shoot wide eyes in Beck’s direction, a flare of panic building in my gut. He just shoots me a sheepish smile.
Well, at least he’s not freaked out.
But what did Everett mean by everyone?
Is he including Elijah in that? Is he including himself?
Do I rile them up?
Leo appears behind Everett, glancing up from his phone and freezing in place when he senses the tension in the room.
His gaze lands on me, and I can’t help but remember his words from our little not-quite-date.
Have you ever thought of having a pack?
The delusional part of my brain seems to think the group of hot men standing around me would all make excellent candidates.
Which is crazy, because I barely know the two alphas here. And we all know how bad I am at picking alphas.
“The statements to the paps have been made, we’re good to go,” Leo says to everyone, filling the silence between all of us. He turns his attention to me, his voice going softer when he addresses me. “How were the cameras this time?”
“Oh...” I shift my weight from foot to foot, aware of Everett’s intense gaze still on me. I find the idea of showing any form of weakness in front of him embarrassing. “Better this time. Thanks for asking.”
Beck reaches for my hand, starting to tug me further into the studio and away from the crowd forming in the doorway.
“Now that all that stuff’s squared away, how ‘bout I show you some of the music I’ve been working on!”
His words seem to snap the rest of them out of whatever weird funk they were in and they all move into the room with us.
Beck guides me to one of the couches, flashing me an excited grin as he leaves me seated there. He goes to the mixing board and starts clicking a few buttons on the computer there.
Leo comes and joins me on the couch, sitting close enough for our legs to touch. The contact makes my breath catch in my throat for a split second before I relax into it.
If he’s being this open with that sort of thing, then I’m sure Everett has to know, especially after his earlier comment about me riling everyone here up.
Elijah sits down on an armchair that looks tiny underneath him, despite being a very average-sized armchair.
Everett slides into the office chair in front of the mixing board, lounging back as he watches Beck pull up the file.
“Ready, Starlight?”
A blush covers my cheeks at his nickname for me.
“Yeah, hit me with it.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve listened to a guy’s music. Ezra had me listen to all of his music constantly. With him, it was more of a chore. His music was never my cup of tea, and I’d always have to be incredibly careful about my emotions and reactions around him.
The last thing I’d want to do is react the wrong way and upset him.
But the moment Beck’s song starts? That lingering anxiety disappears.
Because it’s good.
Really fucking good.
It’s different from his other sounds, which have been a lot more boy-in-bedroom-with-his-guitar kind of indie pop. Which isn’t to say his stuff has been bad. I’ve become a big fan since we’ve started this whole... not-quite-fake dating situation.
I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to admit it to him, but I like to have his music playing as I fall asleep so I feel less alone.
I’d never be able to fall asleep to this song. I know that the moment I start registering the lyrics.
It has a stronger drum beat with building synths and layers of Beck’s voice singing—no, begging—for attention. My attention, if the lyric about the girl from the stars in the chorus is any indication.
I think I forget to breathe as the music washes over me.
When the song ends, I have to take a second to collect myself.
“Holy shit, wow.”
“You like it?” he asks, perching himself on the coffee table in front of me.
“Like it?” I stare up at him with wide eyes. “I love it!”
And unlike the countless times I’ve been a captive audience to a man playing me his music, I mean it.