Page 45 of Pack Plus One

“Caleb, I...” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I have to tell you something.”

His face smooths into that unreadable mask he wears so well. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t your real plus-one,” I confess in a rush. “I wasn’t the omega you hired. I was just there for my ex’s wedding, and when Jude mistook me for someone else, I... I went along with it.”

I wait for his anger, for the betrayal to flash across his face, for the coldness to enter his eyes. I brace myself for accusation, for hurt, for rejection.

Instead, he laughs.

Not a small chuckle, but a full, rich laugh that fills the car and makes the tension in my shoulders begin to dissolve despite my confusion.

I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s so funny?”

“Leah,” he says, his laughter fading to a warm smile, “we know.”

I blink at him. “You... know?”

“We’ve known since about five minutes after meeting you.”

“But... how? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs, his eyes still dancing with amusement. “At first, we were just curious to see how far you’d take it. Our actual hire was supposed to be some omega named Olivia with a finance résumé and, according to her profile, an extensive knowledge of our business interests. You were clearly not her.”

My face burns with embarrassment. “Oh my God.”

“Then,” he continues, “we realized it was convenient for both of us. You needed a pack for the wedding. We needed an omega for networking opportunities. It worked out.”

My jaw drops. “So you just... went along with it?”

“Yes.”

“All of you?”

“All of us.”

The air rushes out of me. I sink lower in the seat, my gaze fixed on my apartment building. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time.”

“If it helps,” he offers, “we liked you better than we would have liked Olivia.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Just a hunch,” he says, his eyes warm as they meet mine. “For one thing, I doubt Olivia would have stood up to your ex the way you did.”

“Eric,” I correct automatically.

“I prefer ‘your ex,’” Caleb says, a hint of growl entering his voice. “Or better yet, ‘that asshole.’”

Despite everything, I smile. “Fair enough.”

A silence falls between us again, but it’s different now—less tense, more contemplative.

“So where does that leave us?” I finally ask. “Now that all the cards are on the table?”

Caleb studies me for a long moment, his expression turning serious. “That depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes.” He shifts in his seat to face me more fully. “We’ve made our interest clear, I think. All four of us. The question is: what do you want, Leah?”

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