Knot a Good Idea (Bittersweet Omegas #4)

Chapter 11

11

APRIL

“The gala is tonight ?” Skylar squeals into the phone. “Oh my god, do you have anything to wear?”

“Actually, yes.” I stand in the massive closet that I hadn’t explored the night before, poring over the different dress options in garment bags. The dresses are suspiciously my size, along with the boxes of designer shoes that fill the shelves.

I have a feeling Donovan is behind this. I would have balked at having clothes picked out for me, but since the event is tonight, I’m grateful I don’t have to find a dress last minute.

But I’m out of my element. I don’t need to know the prices to realize the combined dollar amount of everything in this closet is double my yearly salary at the café.

I could run away with three pairs of shoes to cover the rent, too.

It’s ridiculous.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” my best friend asks. “Have you guys talked about?—”

“I can’t tell you anything, really,” I interrupt her. “I know you’re dying to know about it, but I signed an NDA. There is nothing else I can say about them.”

“Wait, so are you actually dating them, or not?”

“Skylar,” I sigh. “I’m dating them, okay? That’s what you need to know.”

Skylar’s silent for a moment over the phone. “Well, shit,” she mutters. “Congrats, I guess.”

“ IS THAT APRIL ?” a voice shrieks from the background.

“Tell Devyn I say hi, too,” I laugh. Her constant support and excitement reminds me of why I’m doing this. The café wouldn’t be the same without her.

I can schmooze with rich people for a few hours if it means keeping the ones I care about employed.

And if I get to wear a dress worth as much as my car, then why not?

“I will,” Skylar murmurs. I can tell she wants to ask more questions, but I won’t be able to answer them.

I’m not about to violate an NDA just because my best friend is too damn nosy for her own good.

It is one of the reasons I love her, though.

“Hey, there is one more thing, though,” I say as I pull a deep burgundy dress out of a garment bag. “And I need you to just listen and not ask a bunch of questions. This is important, Skye.”

“You got it. What is it?”

“Do you remember that online donation account my mom had when we were both…missing?”

It’s still hard for me to say the word.

I hate even thinking about it.

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “I do.”

“Then when you see a deposit in there, make sure it moves directly into the business account.”

“Um…how much will there be?”

“Just move it in and don’t panic when you see it. It’s not a mistake.”

“… okay . Can I still not ask any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Well, what the fuck, April?” Skylar sighs, exasperated.

The dress is stunning. It’s a strapless floor length gown with subtle sequins that dazzle when it hits the light at the right angle. It’s sexy, but chic.

I can’t help but smile even as my friend panics.

“That’s all you have to do, Skye. If you’re not comfortable doing it, I will. But I just didn’t want you to be surprised when you saw that donation in there. I need you to trust me.”

“I do,” she says. “You know I always trust you. I’m just worried.”

“You always worry, too.” I step into a pair of black strappy heels, eyeing my feet in the floor-length mirror against the closet.

“Are they at least nice? Are they good guys?”

I pause and think about how they make me feel. I glance at the crystal rose that sits on the polished wood nightstand next to the bed.

Then I look at my face in the mirror. The dark circles are still there, but they’ve faded slightly. There’s a subtle flush on my face that wasn’t there a week ago.

“I think so,” I say slowly, thinking of Liam’s gentle smile, Hunter’s playful smirk, and Donovan’s knowing gaze.

“Well, as good as billionaires can be,” Skylar mutters. “Tell them to open twenty cafes for us.”

I scoff. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I’m telling you, fifty dollars a macaron. They’ll eat them up.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

I have a feeling those Alphas would give me anything I asked for, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I meet Donovan downstairs in the kitchen late in the morning. He’s dressed in low hanging sweatpants and a dark grey shirt, and I try not ogle him as he stands over the stove.

I don’t understand why his pack would need anyone to pretend to be their Omega when most would throw themselves at him.

And he knows about me—I’m sure that background check told him every detail about my past.

So why didn’t he send me home last night?

He turns to me, and I swallow. His eyes are icy and calculated as he looks at me, searching my gaze. His scent is just as delicious as before, intoxicating and mouthwatering, an ocean breeze with the promise of rain.

“We’re leaving in four hours,” he says simply. “We should keep preparing you before then. I don’t doubt you’ll do well, but the more information I can give you, the better.”

I nod. There’s no flirting or playfulness in his tone; it’s strictly business.

And that’s fine. This is what the arrangement is.

“Liam and Hunter…” he sighs and shakes his head. “They would like to play more… games with you before we leave.”

I chuckle, but the scowl doesn’t leave his face. “You don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m not a game person.”

I nod. “Good to know. You’re a good sport for entertaining them, at least.”

“If you hadn’t brought up board games, I wouldn’t have to entertain them.”

I shrug and take a seat at the spacious kitchen island, still overwhelmed by its size.

If Skylar and I could spend one day in here with an unlimited budget, we could create masterpieces made of pastry.

Donovan plates what he was cooking, grabs silverware, and places the plate on the island. Then he pushes it toward me, an eyebrow raised in offering.

He’s not exactly telling me what to do, unlike last night when he ordered me to eat.

And I am hungry. I haven’t had an appetite in ages, it seems.

“I’m cooking for everyone,” he quips, as if he senses my reluctance. “You just came to the kitchen first.”

I slide the plate over cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

“You made this?”

Up close, the food looks mouthwatering. My stomach rumbles in agreement as I inhale the rich scent of garlicky potatoes, spicy sausage, and sizzling bacon, with a fried egg and melted cheese on top.

It looks seasoned to perfection, too. The egg is perfectly cooked with just the right amount of runny yolk and garnished with green onions.

“Are you surprised?” Donovan asks.

“I just didn’t think you cooked much.”

He raises an eyebrow. “When I designed this house, I wanted a kitchen like this for a reason. Not just so I could pay a chef to come in and do all the work. I grew up cooking a lot for my family.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling slightly chastised.

That is not what I expected him to say. I can’t imagine the man in front of me ever cooking for an entire group of people. I would assume he’d rather pay someone else to do it.

I pick up my fork, scoop a bit of potato, egg, and bacon onto it, and take a bite.

Holy shit.

Skylar’s a good cook and an even better baker, just like me. My mother went to culinary school and is an incredible cook.

But Donovan’s dish is up there with some of the best savory breakfasts I’ve tasted.

I look at him, my eyes wide, and put a hand to my mouth before I make an embarrassing noise. But he’s still looking at me with concern in his eyes, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“It’s delicious,” I tell him honestly after I swallow. “Truly. Thank you.”

He nods. “Good.”

He watches me take a few more bites until I give him a look. “Are you not going to eat?”

“I’ll do my best to not tell you what to do anymore,” he says lowly, ignoring my question. “I’ve been accused by others of being…bossy. And I can understand why you might not want that.”

I put my fork down and swallow. “Are you saying that because of what you found in my background check?”

He doesn’t answer, which is confirmation enough.

“You should have told me,” he says after a beat of silence.

I stare at the orange yolk running over the potatoes. “You didn’t recognize me,” I mutter. “It was refreshing to just exist without someone looking at me like they felt sorry for me.”

He drums his fingers on the marble surface, staying quiet.

“If you’re worried about someone else saying something?—”

“They won’t,” he interrupts me. “The people that you’ll meet are too wrapped up in their own lives to care. Even if they did recognize you, it’s not their fucking business. I’ll handle it.”

“What about the contract?” I ask quietly.

“I knew who you were when I had you sign it,” he says. “I didn’t find out until I had the results of the background check, but nothing’s changed. You’re still ours— pretending to be ours until the contract expires. The money has been deposited.”

“Have you told Liam or Hunter?” I ask softly. It would be within his right to do it since they all signed.

Donovan shakes his head. “That’s up to you,” he says. “Only if you want to.”

I clench my fork, staring into his eyes. There is a wall behind his expression—almost as if he’s closed himself off from me.

Strictly business .

I nod, appreciating that he’s giving me the freedom to make my own choice.

“Alright,” I say. “Thank you.”

He nods, then looks at my plate, then back up at me.

He wants to tell me to eat.

Raising an eyebrow, I take another bite, giving him a pointed look.

The corner of his lip quirks, and for a second, I see a crack in his walls.

Then Hunter barrels into the kitchen shirtless, dressed only in black sweatpants that hang low on his hips.

I try not to ogle. I really do.

But dear god.

His chest isn’t completely covered in tattoos, but there’s enough black ink on a significant amount of him. The designs are intricate and complicated, done with skill and attention to detail.

But I don’t stare at his muscled chest for too long, refusing to let my eyes linger.

“Oh, shit. Hi April,” Hunter grins while Donovan rolls his eyes.

“You couldn’t put clothes on since we have a guest?” he snaps while Hunter raises an eyebrow. Then, he notices my plate of food.

“What the fuck, Don, you cooked? I wouldn’t have had cereal this morning.”

“This wasn’t for you, anyway,” Donovan says, crossing his arms.

Even though he said it was enough for everyone, I realize with glee that he only did this for me.

But I can’t let it show on my face. Instead, I give Hunter an apologetic smile. “You can have the rest of mine if you want.”

He grins. “Nah. I’d rather you eat it. I can eat other things.”

I don’t miss the double meaning in his words.

Donovan groans in annoyance. “Put on some clothes, Hunter.”

I suppress a smile at their interaction. The brotherly dynamic reminds me a bit of Skylar and myself, except Donovan is more of a grump than me, and Hunter is slightly more unhinged than Skylar.

“Fine,” Hunter grumbles. “Will you be ready in five minutes for board games, babe?” he asks me.

Babe.

“Sure,” I say, as my stomach flips.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just a pet name.

And this is strictly business.

I’m all board gamed out.

Playing while also memorizing details about the people I will meet tonight cemented everything into my brain.

My nerves are slightly calmed.

I can do this.

I’m a capable person.

At least, I was before…everything.

But as I stare into the mirror, I’m starting to feel like the April Waters that I used to know.

The burgundy dress fits like a glove, accentuating my hips and giving me more of an hourglass figure. My breasts heave slightly over the neckline, cleavage on display, but still sophisticated.

Unfortunately, I can’t reach the zipper in the back.

One of the guys will have to do it.

I’m finishing up my makeup at the vanity—wishing that Devyn was here to give me a full, glamorous face—when there’s a knock at the bedroom door.

I jump, my startle response kicking into full gear. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and painful adrenaline spears through my legs and arms for a second of pure chaos.

I grip the edge of the vanity tightly, exhaling a sharp breath.

I’m not back there. I’m in a house that I can easily leave at any time. I can unlock any door I need to.

“April?”

Liam’s tentative voice behind the door pulls me out of my spiral. Keeping a straight face, I open the bedroom door to greet him.

My breath catches.

Liam’s in a grey suit, tailored perfectly to his form. His hair is slicked back slightly, giving him a polished look. His green eyes pierce mine as he takes me in, his cheeks lightly flushing with color.

“You look…” he inhales sharply. “…beautiful.”

My face burns, and I’m sure I’m blushing just as hard as he is.

“You clean up well,” I tease, clearing my throat.

“I was coming to tell you that we’re ready whenever you are. The driver is out front.”

“No helicopter this time?”

Liam winces. “Unless you want Hunter to be sick all over us.”

“In this dress? I don’t think so.”

“No.” His green eyes roam over my form, darkening slightly. “Especially not in this dress.”

His scent swirls around me, making goosebumps appear on my arms.

I want him.

Badly.

Even though it’s supposed to all be pretend.

“I need help with my dress,” I whisper, opening the door wider. “Could you finish zipping me?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Of course. Anything you want.”

I clear my throat, stopping the sigh that threatens to escape me.

I’m wet. I can feel the dampness between my thighs and the aching of my nipples against the fabric of the dress.

I believe him, too. If I asked him to get on his knees and lick my cunt clean, he would do it.

I just know he would.

But I shake the thought away, stuffing my inner Omega into a drawer.

I step back into the room and turn my back to Liam, and he stands behind me. His hand moves my hair, exposing the zipper.

“I know we signed the contract,” he says softly, barely loud enough for me to hear as he pulls the zipper up. “But, afterwards, if you ever wanted to?—”

“ LIAM! ” Hunter yells, his voice echoing from downstairs. “Hurry the fuck up!”

Liam jumps back from me, as if his hand was burned. I turn to him, and he shrugs and gives me a polite smile. “We should go,” he says simply, the conversation from earlier abandoned. I loop my arm through his and he walks me down the long hallway lined with paintings.

When we reach the top of the stairs, Donovan and Hunter are waiting in the foyer, both in suits. Donovan is in all black, down to the button-up shirt underneath his jacket. He gives me a nod of approval, his lips in a thin line. Hunter wears a grey suit darker than Liam’s and fitted to accent his broad chest and slim waist.

Hunter whistles when he sees me. “Good god, April. Is this the same woman that beat Donovan’s ass in Mystic Raiders a few hours ago?”

I snort. “The one and only.”

Donovan frowns as Liam leads me down the stairs, his eyes never leaving me. “Do you have any last-minute questions?” he asks. “Anything else you want us to clarify?”

“Fucking hell, Don. It’s not like she’s taking an exam. It’s a gala. It’s not that serious,” Hunter adds.

Donovan ignores him, keeping his gaze on me.

I shake my head. “If I do, I’ll be sure to ask subtly.”

He nods. “Good. If you’re ready, we’ll go.”

Still clutching Liam’s arm, I walk out of the mansion, my heels clacking on the marble floor.

I swallow down my nerves, ready to pretend that I’m a normal person again.