“Why not?”
“The sex thing. The way I freaked out.”
“You can work through that, Giorgie.”
“And we’re competing for the same spot. Only one of us can win it.”
“So what? One of you wins it. The other doesn’t. It doesn’t stop you from being with him if you don’t want it to.”
“And his pack?”
She shrugs. “I think you need to talk to them, Giorgie.”
I stare back out towards the window, to the cloudless sky beyond. A smidgen of hope glimmers in my chest.
I want her to be right. I want to have my happy ending. The time I spent with the pack, before it all went wrong, was truly amazing. I could see a place for myself with those men. Building a home together. Loving and being there for one another. Like my brother has with his pack and his omega.
I’ve always coveted it while never truly believing it could be mine. Because alphas couldn’t be trusted. I couldn’t bring myself to trust them. To trust one in particular.
I want to believe Sia that what happened at the villa was something we can work through and past.
I want to trust in myself and the pack.
I’m just not sure I can.
“When’s your brother arriving?” Sia asks me.
“Later tonight.”
Sia sighs. “Are you sure you won’t stay, Giorgie? Work things out with Jake. Get yourself back to the dig site.”
I drop the spoon into the ice cream tub. “I don’t know.”
28
Jake
“Yes?” a male voice with a blended Italian and London accent answers. I assume it’s Giorgie’s brother.
“Hey,” I say. “Is Giorgie there?”
The intercom goes dead.
“Friendly,” I mutter to the others with a smirk. Dylan manages a tight smile in return but I can tell he’s tense.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Aiden asks me. “Rocking up at her hotel unannounced like this.”
“I need to talk to her. We need to talk to her.” I call the receptionist over. “The line went dead. Please could you try the room again?” He takes the phone from me and starts tapping on the numbers.
In front of us, the lifts groan and one set of silver doors draws back. A tall alpha with bronzed skin comes marching through into the grand lobby. There’s a look of murder on his face.
“Shit,” I mumble, stepping back from the reception desk.
The man storms straight up to the desk and slams both his fists down, making the receptionist jolt.
“Don’t think he’s pleased to see us,” I mutter, swinging around to face him as the others do too.
“Sir!” the receptionist stutters. “Please!”