Page 30 of Your Wild Omega

The spring film festival is in just over a month, and by then Red’s name will circulate as Director Yun’s dark horse pick—pun not intended. I stand on the sidewalk and smirk at my joke, but flinch when someone throws the showroom doors open with force.

The same clerk from my last visit glares at me. “If you’ve finished your sun yoga, Hannah will see you now.”

My gaze drops to my watch, but as I thought, I’m still early. “All right,” I mutter, my calm vanishing as her snark throws me off balance. Probably what Hannah intended.

The designer’s office forms a larger version of the woman herself: slender, chilly, and decked in a palette of mixed fabric textures. One-way glass down the long side gives her a good view of the showroom while maintaining her privacy.

The fashion queen leans on her desk, crossing her arms. “Rickon Jones. So good of you to come and see me,” she drawls, leaking sarcasm. Her hand drops to a sheet of paper on the desk, her sparkling black nails digging into the paper, and I don’t need to read it to recognize our contract. She huffs out a pained sigh. “I feel betrayed, darling.”

I lock my hands together behind my back. No more stalling. “Lyra Gray specifically asked me to purchase one of your gowns, but when I showed it to her, she wasn’t brave enough to wear it.”

Hannah’s nose wrinkles. “Isn’t it your job to manage her?”

One corner of my mouth tilts wryly and shame rushes through me. As if Lyra ever listened to anything I had to say. “I’m sorry I reneged on that part of the contract,” I tell Hannah, meeting hericy gaze. “But since I paid for the dress out of my own pocket, I’d like to offer a counter-agreement.”

Her penciled brows arch. “Bold.” She scans me up and down. “Like the rest of you. I’m listening, but please don’t waste my time.”

Good thing I took the time to dress up, including my heeled boots, which add an extra two inches to my height. The ensemble boosts my confidence. “I’m no longer representing Lyra Gray. But my new client—”

She holds up her hand. “Was my dress the reason for the split?”

I open my mouth to answer, and then carefully reconsider my words. “That gala brought the tensions between us to a head.” To be fair, the dress played a minor role in our professional breakup, but maybe Hannah will take pity on me. Hannah loves sensations, but only of the right kind.

The designer cups her chin with one hand, those sharp obsidian nails stroking her cheek. “So, who are you managing now?”

I swallow hard. “Her name’s Red Jones, and she’s a new actress Valencio Yun brought on board.”

Her upper lip curls slightly. “Aka untried. Unknown. And a forgettable name to boot.” She plays her fingers through the air, indicating something vanishing, before sighing and moving to the curved seat behind the desk. “I don’t need a blip on the radar, Rickon. You know that.” She rubs circles on her forehead with her index finger before sighing. “Bring the dress back, and I’ll refund you two-thirds of the price.”

Fuck. That’s a ten grand loss for me. I stiffen. “Please give us another chance. I have an eye for people, just like I did for the dress, and Red is about to blow up big time.”

“Dove.” She cuts me off, managing to glare down her nose at me even though I’m the one standing. “I’m showing you pityhere because everyone knows Lyra’s a snake to work with. We’ll pretend it never happened. I could charge you the full fee and still ask for the dress back, you know?”

I deflate. She’s within her rights, but this is about more than the contract. Red needs this opportunity. I wash my brittle mouth with my tongue and try again. “Please, Hannah—”

She holds her hand up. “You have until Monday to return the dress.” The woman opens her mouth again, but the sounds falter as she looks past me. “What in the dickens is that?”

I turn and my heart double beats as a familiar OCB agent opens both sides of the front doors and Red sashays into the showroom, wrapped in what looks like a bed sheet. I gasp as Zack steps up beside her, wearing one of Callisto’s suits, with his leash arcing to Red’s hand.

Fuck, he looks edible with the crisp white shirt straining across his shoulders and a loosely knotted tie disappearing under the satin charcoal gray vest. My cock pulses, sending yet another shock through me.

Until now, Red’s hid his cuffed hands inside a hoodie pocket, but today, not only are they clearly displayed in front, but she’s wound black satin ribbon from my sewing chest around his wrists and along the chain. Zack stands stiffly, head held high as he scans for danger. From here, he looks arrogant and proud. Makes me think of a premium escort trussed up as a gift.

I press my fingers to my mouth, heat rising in my cheeks. What the fuck am I thinking about? More important, Red’s brought her killer alpha out on his first real outing to find me. Frankly, I’m not even surprised she tracked me down. Probably learned that from a movie too.

Red sheds her sheet, morphing from white caterpillar to goddess as the pearl dress spills out around her. She’s wrapped her hair up in a messy French roll, and loose scarlet strands frame her sharp jawline as she looks around for me.

“Good grief! What’s going on, Rickon?” Hannah snaps. “Why is she wearing my dress?”

“I didn’t ask her to come,” I murmur, transfixed. Didn’t ask, but so grateful she did.

Why did I assume Red wouldn’t help me in the first place? Why’d I forget I don’t have to do everything by myself anymore? A lump lodges in my throat. Even with her hands full taking care of Zack, my omega still noticed my troubles.

I spin around and rush out into the showroom, forgetting Hannah. Without the filter of the special glass, Red’s even more stunning, framed in the doorway’s light.

The moment my omega sees me, she beams. “Good. Looks like we’re in the right place.”

Zack huffs out a breath and takes a step forward as I approach, but he’s relaxing, not posturing. “Hi, big guy,” I say, my words thick in my throat as I catch his fingers with mine. “You clean up amazing.”

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