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Smith frowns, the expression intimidating. “I carried you in here last night. This is the Omega Suite.”
He turns to scowl at the entire room. “It still isn’t finished,” he mutters. “I wanted it to be done before I gave it to you.”
I’m… shocked. Even though it makes perfect sense. Of course, this was all Smith. Cassian knows how much I love to read, but I can’t fathom him choosing luxury linens. And Damon may have style and taste, but he would never think of tiny details like crown molding or antique doorknobs to match the dresser’s hardware.
Smith raises his chin slightly, the muscles in his cut jaw flexing while he nods to the side. “Your bathroom is right in there. And the door beside it is your nest, little petal.”
I’m not sure if I like that nickname. On one hand, any term of endearment from this cold, distant alpha feels like a triumph. On the other, no matter what he calls me, I can’t stop hearing all of the things he once snarled at me instead.
“Some of us have shit we need to do. We don’t have all day to deal with your fucking incompetence.”
It’s hard to reconcile that cruel alpha with the cool, composed man in front of me.
Until I look a bit closer.
And see that the muscles in his jaw are ticking. The pulse in his throat throbs. And he appears to be gripping the insides of his suit pants.
He’s tightly-wound. It doesn’t surprise me, now that I see the level of perfectionism he’s capable of. No wonder he didn’t have it in him to do the whole house, if this is the sort of standard he sets for himself.
I’m not sure I like how much I understand that.
I’m not sure I want to admit that I’m exactly the same way.
Instead, I lean forward far enough to peer into the bathroom, past its open door. Just like the others, the portal is tall and broad enough for the alphas, made of solid wood, and carved to match the windows.
On the other side, I see an ensuite bathroom that looks more like a mini spa. Or perhaps something on one of my Pinterest boards.
For one, it’s pink. Blush quartz countertops and a trough sink with three brushed brass faucets. Pale pink paint with one feature wall covered in modern floral wallpaper. It takes a moment for me to realize it matches the rug in the bedroom exactly.
I do a double-take when I see that the chandeliers also match—both gold with glass bubbles. The bathroom version is a perfectly proportionate miniature of the big one.
Smith’s voice sounds quieter when he speaks again. “Your ensuite contains a walk-in closet, a separate room for a toilet.” His voice drops lower. “And a special nest entrance.”
My eyebrows jump. Meg’s nest has its own bathroom, which honestly sounds a bit overwhelming, in my opinion. It never occurred to me that I could have a traditionally-sized nest with its own special entrance to my bedroom’s ensuite.
Huh. I bite back a rueful smile. Not only is the alpha-hole a successful developer, he’s a good developer.
Smart, creative. Clearly too good at his job for his own good. Yet, somehow, he got over whatever hurdle prevented him from finishing the rest of the pack house in order to make this room perfect.
For me?
It might still be a test, I remind myself. He could be watching my reaction to see how I behave. If I’m grateful enough. Or worth all of this extravagance.
The problem is, I cannot currently access the instincts I need to please him. Because my Omega is irrationally angry about this scentless bed and my other two missing alphas.
When I blink up at Smith, the grooves around his mouth carve deeper. “What?” he demands. “What’s wrong?”
Great. Now I’ve made him angry. No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to make him happy.
Everything inside of me coils low, hiding from the frustration on his face. The tightness pulling at his features gradually goes slack. He sighs, stepping closer.
“Remi, I—” He drops his chin, adjusting the monogrammed cuffs of his shirt before he clears his throat and raises his head. Our eyes lock, but there’s no command in his. For the first time ever, I can look at him without my insides going brittle.
“I would like to—I would like an opportunity to fix this. Starting with understanding you better.”
Is my mouth hanging wide open again?
Yep, my Omega chirps. It sure is.
