Page 14 of Alphas Like Us
Bruno yanks the organizer back by the collar, every movement a snap-second. Shorter than abreath.
Maximoff fumes, chest rising and falling heavily, and his red-hot fury still drills into the organizer behindme.
I open his fist that I caught and clutch his hand with my hand.Squeezing.
Maximoff blinks, his attention almost,almostmine.
Our chests press together, his grayCamp Callowayshirt, green jeans, and Timberland boots unlike the suits and tuxes in the orchestra hall. It’s his way of gaining a modicum of control during an event that’s completely out of hishands.
With my other grip on his shoulder, I walk forward, forcing him to keep walking backwards down the aisle. Nearing the stage. “Look at me,” I say, my voice husky. “Wolfscout.”
His chest falls, muscles stillflexed.
My pulsethumps.
I skim his striking but also tensed face, and my hand slides across his broad shoulder and rises slowly up his neck. I hold his jaw; I tighten his hand in my hand, and my lips veer to his ear. “Maximoff Hale, will you marryme?”
He flinches, eyes widening and brows knotting with a thousand questions, and even more philosophicalqueries.
2
MAXIMOFF HALE
I overthink.
About every fucking thing. You know that. But in this second, I let out the first thing in my head. “What?” I ask, tooedged.
Farrow stands an inch taller, black hair pushed back, his know-it-all smile stretching to gorgeous drop-to-your-damn-knees levels. “Take a breath, wolfscout.”
Am I holding my breath like I’ve just plunged into the deep-end of a freezingpool?
Maybe.
Probably.
Alright, definitely. I can’t even think about theideaof marriage, not here; it’s something I haven’t discussed with anyone but Jane—wait…
Farrow raises his brows at me, nearlaughter.
I start nodding, knowing before Farrow says, “Man, I’m fucking with you.” He needed to catch my attention. I won’t admit out loud that it worked, but it fuckingworked.
I try to force a grimace. “Thanks for that,asshole.”
Farrow whistles. His grin has to be hurting his face. “He calls it like he sees it.” He holds my jaw, his tattooed hand warm but silver ringscold.
The momentquiets.
Our eyes roam one another, and I breathe and breathe, the pent-up rage trying to deplete with his relaxed presence pushed up against my rigidbody.
He hangs his arm over my shoulder, all cool confidence, his fingers skimming the back of my neck before disappearing in myhair.
I inhale a deeper breath. I’ve let another captain inside my ship, and everyone—the security team,We Are Callowayproduction crew, my family, the world,you—knowsit.
Right now I’m aware that we’re in an orchestra hall, so close to the stage that the classical music overpowers our voices fromeavesdroppers.
But Farrow and I are standing in direct view of two-thousand sets of curiouseyes.
Our relationship has been public for about two weeks, and this—touching my twenty-eight-year-old boyfriend with a crowd in sight—still gets to me. Most of the time in a good way, other times…I find myself watching the people watch me, something I almost never do. Cameras have always been scenery to my colossally strangelife.
