Page 41 of In Knots

“I don’t think they get to choose to go on holidays like this,” Chloe points over her shoulder at the scene of paradise. “And I hear Simon’s family have even more money than yours. They own a private yacht, right?”

“I have no idea,” I say flatly.

“You should google them.” She picks up an exotic-looking cocktail placed in front of her and takes a slurp through the straw. “Have you kissed him yet?”

“Who?’ I ask, my cheeks reddening.

“Simon, silly,” she giggles, then eyes me through the screen. “Who else?”

“No, I haven’t,” I say.

“Kiss him, Alexa, and then you’ll know it’s right. Actually experience the power of an alpha for once, embrace it, and you’ll see what you’ve been missing.”

She’s right, just not how she thinks she is.

“Why aren’t you scuba diving?” I ask, in an attempt to change the subject.

“Oh,” she curls a lock of hair behind her ear in a coy expression, “I was feeling a little queasy this morning. In fact, I’ve been feeling that way most mornings.”

I stare at her. “Oh my god, Chloe, you’re not …”

Already? So soon?

A huge grin breaks across her face and she nods rapidly. “Yes, pregnant. About six weeks, I think. But don’t tell anyone. Only our parents know so far.”

“Congratulations,” I say. “That’s amazing news, Chlo.”

“I know,” she says, “Nathan’s super excited. He’s been acting like a giddy schoolboy ever since we took the test.”

And then she tells me all her plans for the baby, and I realise how different things will be. I thought we’d go back to hanging out when she returned, but life’s changed for Chloe, while mine is just the same as always.

Except it’s not.

* * *

Half an hour later, my mother calls up the stairs, “Sadie’s here, darling. Are you decent?”

“Yes,” I call back, hopping down in front of the mirror and waiting for the make-up artist to find his way up to my room. He’s an omega himself, with incredibly sharp cheekbones and an even sharper tongue. You’d think that would get him into trouble with his clients, but they love the gossip he provides and he’s good at his job.

He saunters into my room a few minutes later, his styled hair a shade of shocking pink today, wheeling a makeup case behind him.

“Hello there,” he says, parking up the suitcase and snapping down the handle. “Your mother said I was urgently needed, some kind of emergency.” He waves his hand in my direction and I spin around in my chair so he can take a look at my forehead.

“Oh my,” he says, bringing his hands to cover his mouth. “Well, we do need my help.” His eyes narrow slightly. “And how did this happen?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to think of the best way to answer that, and he strides over to stand in front of him. His scent is light and floral and I suppose to an alpha irresistible, but to me, another omega, it tickles at my sinuses.

Gently, he smooths back my hair from my forehead and examines the deep purple bruise. “I can do my best to cover this sweetie pie, and you know I am very good at my job, but there’s a chance the bruise will darken as the day progresses. You’re going to need to get your story straight.” My shoulders sag a little. “Or, of course, you could name the piece of shit who did this.” My gaze leaps up to his.

“It was an accident,” I mutter.

He laughs bitterly and walks over to his case, flicking it open and removing several brushes and tubes of concealer and foundation.

“Oh, it always is. And they are always very remorseful afterwards, promising that it will never happen again.” He shrugs. “But, you know, maybe you are right, maybe it was genuinely an accident.” He doesn’t sound like he believes that. Carefully, he stretches a head band over my face, pinning back my hair.

“He wasn’t remorseful.”

“He will be. Next time you see him, he’ll beg for your forgiveness.”

---