Page 2 of Knotting Hill
“So? I can look, can’t I?”
Josh sighs heavily and goes back to brooding into his latte macchiato.
Russell, the other alpha in my small but well-rounded St. Luc pack, snickers. He is more like me. From a well-off family initially, since joining me, he has doubled his modest trust fund. Like I said, my charmed life loves me. I know the market, and I play it to my advantage. It helps that my dad is an investment banker. He taught me everything I know, hoping I would follow in his footsteps to become a junior partner at his firm by now. But why work when I can do this for fun and be fucking good at it?
Which brings me back to last night and my more than killer hangover right now. Tearing my eyes from the off-limits omega to take a gulp of my hot, black coffee, which was pathetically expensive for what it is. The party I held atelitelast night was a raging success. It started about eleven after Ladies’ Night ended and went on til three. It’s now quarter to nine, and I’ve had about two hours of sleep.
If that.
I did take home a pretty omega who was entering her preheat, and we banged like bunnies for a while before I rang her a taxi and sent her on her way from our four-bedroom townhouse on Lansdowne Crescent. No way did I want her sticking around for her heat. Not my scene at all. When I enter my rut every quarter, I use theOmegas4Hireservice and that suits me, just fine. It’s no strings, no emotions. Two things I’m not ready for.
“So, why am I up at dumb fuck o’clock?” I ask Josh, who called us here at this ungodly hour. My eyes are gritty, my head is banging, and I could do with falling back into my pit sooner rather than later.
“You wouldn’t know dumb fuck o’clock if it bit you on the arse,” he grouses. “Try being me for a week. You’d probably end up a crying heap on the floor.”
“Hard pass, thanks. I definitely wouldn’t trade places with the moody, insomniac beta with a caffeine addiction.”
“Ouch,” he growls, but he doesn’t take offence to any of it. He knows who he is, and he owns it. It’s why I like him so much. What you see is what you get. He is a good balance that is needed between Russ and me, what with us being too much alike for anyone’s good. The world can only handle one of us at a time, and Josh reminds us of that.
“You know my friend Elle?”
I nod, eyes narrowed as I recall the fiery redhead with the big tits.
“Well, her friend Charity, you’ve met her, small, blonde and a bit too perky? Yeah, anyway, she is on the market for a pack.”
I blink as that hits me right in the guts. I let out a low growl. “And?”
“Calm your tits,” he huffs. “I’m not suggesting for one second we express an interest in Charity,but…”
“But nothing.”
“But we are knocking on a bit. You’re both twenty-eight, and I’m not far behind. Do we really want to be looking for a mate when we're in our mid-thirties or older? Any unmated omegas will be fifteen or so years younger than us, and that’s just a hard passfor me. I won’t have anything in common with them, and neither will you two. So glare at me all you like, I’m putting this on the table to talk about. Nothing more, yet.”
“Humph.” I slouch into my chair and pick up my coffee, taking a big gulp while I think. He’s notwrong, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up.
And I’m not ready. It’s not what I want.
“I hear you,” I say after a minute and giving him the respect he deserves even though I feel like telling him to fuck off with it at this precise moment. “But it’s not what I want right now.”
“Me either,” Russ adds, which I knew he would. He is as big a commitment-phobe as I am.
Before Josh can argue, I add, “Look. I know that at some point, this will be a done deal. But seeing my parents in an ice-cold mating they were forced into, was not fun for me growing up. Whenever this happens, it has to be right, not something I’m rushed into because I’m pushing thirty.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Josh says, staring at his coffee. “However, I don’t want us to miss out on a great omega because we weren’t looking. You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” I chew my lip. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods and relaxes his shoulders slightly. “I need to get to work.”
“Ah, yes. How is the little bookshop doing?” I give him a smirk to irritate him.
He snorts and stands up. “Fuck off.”
Giving us the finger, which makes me snicker, he leaves. I love teasing him about it, but truth be told, he is minted. His BoHo bookstore on Portobello Road buzzes from morning to night. He hit the market dead on and is reaping the rewards.
I watch him shove the door open, letting in an attractive brunette dressed all in white except for her pink cardigan. I give her a once over with a critical potential mate’s eye and dismiss her. Not out of anything being wrong with her, I’m just knackered.
“Come on,” I say to Russell, standing up and picking up my to-go cup. “I need sleep.”
