Page 18 of Tying the Knot
I was a naïve idiot they could manipulate for when things went south for them. Someone they could rely on to watch their drug money and keep their house when everything else went to hell.
How pathetic can one omega be?
I clench my jaw, so I don’t cry again and chuck the papers back into the box in disgust. At myself, at them, at everyone. I pack it back up and close the lid. Picking it up, I climb off the bed, place it in the bottom of the wardrobe, and put my bag on top of it as if that’s going to help me forget about it.
It’s not. I should sell the house and jet off to Aruba with the proceeds, but it was bought with blood money. I don’t want any part of any of it. I should call Jeremy and hand it all over, but I can’t face him yet. Maybe that Commander will take my call? The one who smells like Christmas.
I shake my head and decide that I’ll think about it after I’ve wallowed and eaten chocolate until I feel sick and made crisp crumbs in my nest that I don’t have to tidy up immediately, even if it means sleeping on them.
I’m free.
I’m hurt and embarrassed, and I don’t think I will ever get over this betrayal or the knowledge that my happy life was all a farce.
But a win is a win.
My head can see that I’m better off.
I just need to heal my heart so it can catch up and maybe, one day, move forward, ex-mated and alone.
ChapterThirteen
Elijah
Sitting in the living room,across from the fifth omega we’ve seen today, I feel like this isn’t going as well as I’d hoped, but exactly in line with how I’d expected. Every one of them is falling flat for me. Kaleb is slightly more enthusiastic, asking questions, and Nik is being his usual thorough self. Dylan, on the other hand, is glaring out of the window and hasn’t bothered to ask anything or even acknowledge any of them except for a cursory wave, if they’re lucky.
I focus on the slight, blue-eyed blonde, but all I can think about are Morgan’s forest-green eyes.
She is the best one we’ve come across so far today, even though we still have three more to go. She ticks a lot of boxes, so I push Morgan from my mind and say, “What are your thoughts on the cost-of-living crisis right now?”
Kaleb groans softly.
He knows it’s a test, and her answer will decide everything. But there is no point in her being suitable in every way except for the one way I need her.
She blinks, looking confused for a moment. Then she smiles and shrugs. “Well, my parents are rich, so…”
It’s the kiss of death, and even Nik knows it as he sits back and slumps in his seat. Dylan’s disgusted snort from across the room is audible. There is no way that we can lumber ourselves with a selfish, self-centred omega who relies on her parents' wealth. We aren’t rich. Far from it. We can afford this house because there are four salaries coming into the household. On our own, we’d be living in one-bedroom flats in a deprived area of London, probably miles away from our work base in Parliament buildings in Westminster.
Despite this, the fact that she has no opinion of current affairs rules her out completely. “Okay,” I say, standing up, so she knows it’s over. “We’ll be in touch.”
She beams in my direction, before pouting in a sultry manner as she brushes up against me. I step back, not even a little bit turned on despite it being six months and a missed rut since I bedded anyone. In theory, my dick should be leading the charge, but it’s just not happening.
I follow her out and open the front door for her, closing it again and then heading for the kitchen. I open the fridge and stare into the lit-up cold depths, searching for something, anything. It makes no difference; I just can’t go back in there and face the rest of the pack. Not yet.
“This is a waste of fucking time,” Dylan says, coming into the kitchen.
“Hmm.”
“You know we should be asking Morgan the important questions, not these random airheads who can barely stand without their parent's money propping them up.”
“Don’t,” I say as mildly as I can. “She is not the one for us.”
“She is, but none of you are willing to even speak to her.”
“Because she is off-limits.” I slam the fridge shut and turn on him with a fierce glare. “We are done talking about this, Dyl. No more.”
“I’m going to that hotel,” he says defiantly, turning and marching out of the kitchen.
I surge forward and grab his arm. “If you walk out of that door…”
