Page 86 of Rocked By the Alpha
Opening up his camera on the laptop, he starts recording. For a moment he is silent, simply staring unblinking into the camera and then he starts talking, explaining that this song is for the girl in the red dress. The girl he’s fallen in love with. The girl he wants back.
He plays the track, the notes filling the empty music room, and he sings the words he’s written, closing his eyes and imagining she is there. Sitting at the keyboard listening to him. Her mouth quirking into that radiant smile of hers.
When he’s done, he uploads the file onto his social media with the simple title:Our Song.
Chapter 26
One week later
A warm breeze sweeps over the shore and behind him leaves rustle. Cool sand presses against his feet and the ocean in front of him laps against the shore lazily, barely moving. He wriggles his toes into the sand and looks out to the distance. He couldn’t sleep so he figured he may as well come and catch the sunrise.
The sky is dark but a thin seam of light hovers above the horizon. The sun hides down there somewhere, in the underworld, the lip of its curve kissing the sky, sending shooting ribbons of gold racing outward.
For a moment it is perfectly peaceful sitting here on the beach but as soon as the dawn arrives, the birds in the trees break out into a chorus of song. He cocks his head and listens, the notes appearing in his mind.
What are they telling each other? Is it all just gossip and chatter? Instruction on where to find the best fruit? Debate about who’s built the best nest?
Or is there a bird like him? Heart broken and mateless — singing his little heart out.
He laughs at himself, shaking his head.
But then he lies back and watches the day arrive. He’s going to allow himself this moment of melancholy before he pulls his shit together, puts on his game-face and ensures Ash and Layla have the best wedding they possibly can.
They arrived on the island yesterday and the rehearsal dinner had been a good distraction. Maybe he’d drunk a little too much, and perhaps his head thumps now, but it’s the first time in over a week and a half that he’s felt a resemblance of happiness.
Today might be harder, though.
Smiling, while he watches his best friend land everything he wants. He can’t begrudge Ash for it. He’s happy for him. But right now it hurts.
Regardless, he’s going to do his job. No hitches, no glitches. Best fucking wedding ever.
He rolls up to sitting and yanks his phone from his pocket.
One self-indulgence first, though.
Check his social media and his messages. See if she has finally replied. It’s been a whole week since he posted that video and it’s had millions of hits around the world. Surely, she must have seen it by now.
At first, he’d checked his notifications every fucking five minutes, but as the days have stretched, he’s reigned himself in. So one look today and then that is it. Put it out of his mind and get on with the day and his life.
They’ll be other women. Other Omegas.
He opens the app. It takes a moment to load — the Wi-Fi out here on the beach is stretched. Finally, the new messages ping in, filling the screen one at a time. He scans through them. And then scans again.
Nothing.
Fine.
That’s fine then.
He lumbers to his feet, the sun now a golden disc floating above the water behind him, and heads inside to dress for the wedding.
* * *
Ash is remarkably relaxed. No demands for his shirt to be re-ironed. No sending back his breakfast. No quizzing Kim on all the details of the day. He seems completely chilled, he’s even smiling.
The four of them, Ash, his best-man West and groomsmen Hunter and Trey, are sitting in the bar area of the giant villa Ash has hired for the wedding, having a cool beer. They’re already suited, hair styled, photos taken. Kim has swooped in three times to check they’re not drinking too much and haven’t lost the buttonholes the stylist pinned to their linen shirts earlier.
Ash and Layla have gone for a relaxed look. Partly because the ceremony is taking place out on the beach and partly because it’s baking hot, even with the sea breeze. They’d melt in full suits so West is pleased it’s beige trousers and white linen shirts. Not exactly rock’n’roll but apparently it was what Layla wanted.
