Page 1 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

Chapter 1: There You Are, Little Mouse

“Do not embarrass me today, Haven.” My father’s alpha command ripples over me, locking down any inclination I might have had to cause a ruckus. Not that there was much. I don’t know why he’s constantly suspicious of my devious nature.

It doesn’t exist.

Literally, I’ve done nothing to step out of line. Ever. Not that he knows about.

But then he’s never given me a chance to.

For all intents and purposes, I am a good girl. An obedient daughter. An excellent omega.

A better beta.

I presented when I was sixteen and graduatedsumma cum laudefrom the American Omega Academy. I never speak out of turn, am the definition of seen and not heard, and yet… he stillfeels the need to bark me into submission before every event he drags me to.

I frown out the window. He doesn’t expect or want a reply.

He appreciates my silence best.

Sometimes I go for days without uttering a single word. Not one noise vibrates from my chest, and that is exactly how he likes it.

I’ve turned it into a game. How long can I stay silent? How long can I be without a voice? So far, the longest I’ve gone is six days, four hours and twenty-seven minutes. Then I hit my funny bone on the sharp edge of a door and I’d practically screamed a slew of curses.

“You may speak when spoken to,” my father continues his commands. “But keep your replies concise and polite. You will not engage in any omega behavior with any of the alphas present. You will maintain a respectful demeanor at all times.”

I keep my back straight and even though I want to curl under the weight of his commands. Too many to actually maintain, to actually hold. But then I know the one he most wants to keep intact is the one he repeats at the end. “Do not embarrass me.”

The words are hissed at me just as the car slides to a stop outside the empty lot. Well, not totally empty. There’s a group of people with cameras milling around and a sign that reads ‘Future site of the Bell Medical Clinic’. At the back of the lot is a group of construction workers, along with various equipment, ready to get to the actual work once my father’s display is over.

To the side are a series of party tents with chairs and tables, food and drinks. Not only is this a groundbreaking for the clinic, it’s also a re-election rally, a chance for my father to rub elbows with his constituents and prove what a man of the people he is.

Something splatters against the side of the car—a chocolate milkshake, I think—making me flinch away from the window.

Oh, yes, there is also a crowd of angry people on the street, protesting the construction of a high rise on their waterfront. Not only that, but on a lot that once was quite a lovely park with a view of the bay. The clinic my father is funding will be on the bottom three floors, while the remaining ten floors will be luxury apartments and penthouses.

Nerves grip me as my father’s guards push back the protestors, getting them away from the car, before the driver, Williams, opens my father’s door. He doesn’t look at me as he stands from the car and then holds one imperious hand out to me.

It won’t matter if I say I don’t want to do this, that I’m afraid of the protestors, of how much this city seems to hate him andmeby extension. If I don’t slide out of the car right now, he’ll just command me to. The result will be the same, and only one option will result in a punishment.

No matter how scared I am of other people, my father is a million times worse.

My fingers don’t shake as they slide into his, allowing him to pull me from the car. His gaze scans over me, taking in the knee-length skirt, the button-up shirt, the cardigan and the suit jacket over top. It’s one of his approved outfits, about as far from my omega nature as it can get, all hard lines and stiff fabrics, itchy and too warm for the early autumn weather, but that’s never been a concern of his.

No, it doesn’t matter how I feel, only how I look. And he wants to make sure I look nothing like an omega. Or at least nothing like how the world envisions omegas. Soft, curvy, sweet. Not completely fair, but it’s the truth.

He nods once and I have to fight the flush that small amount of approval gives me.

God, I’m pathetic.

The protestors shout things at us, pushing against my father’s alpha guards, trying to get close to him, to me.

I keep my gaze down and forward, concentrating on keeping my feet under me on the uneven ground as my father leads the way into the lot, to the crowd of reporters waiting to witness what I know Frederick Bell will announce as a historic moment.

It’s definitely not that. Just another unwanted development. Another cash cow for him to make money, another step up the ladder to where he wants to go… which is—I suppress a shudder—the White House as the president. That is his ultimate goal. And this here? It’s the newest step of many on his quest for power.

In a year, he’ll announce his bid to run for president. And I’ll be expected to smile and play the dutiful daughter for… years. The rest of my life. Agreeing with his conservative bullshit ideas, spouting the words that he’s commanded me to say, unable to do anything different.

We come to a stop in the middle of the field, and I take up position behind him, falling into the stance he’s hammered into me from the time I was a child. Hands folded demurely in front of me, a polite smile on my lips, eyes pointed at the ground.

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