Page 25 of The Florist and Her Alphas

His room is, as always, a disaster.

Books stacked on every flat surface. His vintage record player sits silent on the side table, the arm lifted, a vinyl sleeve beside it. An empty glass with a finger of amber residue at the bottom.

Pepper preens on the desk, ruffling his emerald feathers with theatrical indifference.

“Where were you, Julian?”

A long beat. Julian runs a hand through his damp hair. Looks at the floor. Looks at me. “I was with Liana.”

“And?” I ask impatiently.

“We went out.”

“Wait, on a date?” I ask disbelievingly. Liana looked too serious to be frolicking around town with someone like Julian.

Julian’s jaw tightens. “Yes.”

I am gripping the back of his desk chair hard enough that my knuckles whiten. “We do not get involved with potential acquisitions. We do not date women we are trying to buy out of their businesses. This is not complicated, Julian. This is basic ethics.”

“Ethics.” Julian laughs. A short, sharp sound with no humor. “You sent her a letter to walk away from the only thing she has in the world, and you want to talk to me about ethics?”

“Shut it.”

“She’s an omega,” Julian says, his voice warmer. “I’m sure of it. And it looks like she’s been alone for a long time. And we clearly need an omega. The four of us have not even looked at an omega in years, and now there is one across from us in a flower shop, and I’m telling you she’s the one.” His hazel eyes find mine, bright and certain. “She’s our omega.”

My shoulders have gone rigid. I can feel the muscle along my spine locking into place, vertebra by vertebra, the way it does before I say something I cannot take back.

“Julian.” My voice has gone dangerously flat. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“I am completely listening to myself. And I have never been more sure of anything.”

“You met her three days ago.”

“I know.”

“You took her on a date.”

“We went to a fair. And yes.”

“Julian.” I keep my voice level with an effort that costs me something I cannot name. “Think with your head and not with your dick.”

Julian goes white. Then red. The color floods his face from his collar to his hairline, and his hazel eyes narrow to slits. “Excuse me?”

“I will not let you blow up a fourteen-million-dollar real estate deal, an entire mixed-use development plan, and the reputation of this firm because you got an erection at a coffee shop.”

Julian takes one step toward me. His voice is soft and shaking with anger. “You fucking asshole.”

“I am asking you, as the alpha of this pack, to step back from a woman you don’t know, and not let your hormones make decisions for the four of us.”

“Don’t do that.” Julian’s voice cracks. “Don’t pull rank on me. You don’t get to call yourself the alpha of this pack and then sit in a cafe and insult a woman you’re trying to evict from her flower shop while she’s near tears.” He takes another step. His scent spikes, lemon sharp and hot. “And don’t you dare pretend this is about my dick when we both know exactly what’s happening here. You smelled her too. I saw your face. You’ve been thinking about her for three days, same as I have, and the only difference between us is that I’m honest about it and you’re hiding behind a fucking computer.”

A very long silence.

Pepper has gone completely still on the desk. His bright yellow head is lowered, his feathers flat against his body. He is watching us with both eyes wide open, unblinking, and somehow sensing the tension.

The room door opens, and Cole stands there, fully dressed and holding two coffees. He extends one to me without comment.

“You’re shouting,” Cole says.