Chapter 70

Ollie’s POV

One afternoon, I’m sitting in my room, catching up on my reading when I receive a message to my main phone. It’s from Wes, and it says, Come to my room ASAP. I have something for you.

It’s not uncommon for me to receive orders from the brothers via text message, but it is strange for me to acquire any gifts from them.

I would have to follow his orders anyway, but the added curiosity makes it easier this time. So after texting, On my way, I tuck my phone in my pocket, careful to leave the burner phone behind, and go to the stairs.

I go up to Wes’s floor, where some of his paintings hang on the walls, and the air smells vague of oils and sawdust. He has an entire woodshop at the end of the hallway. Mostly the air is filtered to the outside, but the wood scent still permeates the air.

I glance around the various rooms on Wes’s floor before finding him in his main sitting room. There’s a couch there and a few chairs. I know he likes to entertain friends here, and remember when I was welcome among the number, sitting on the plush sofa, looking at the self-made art he adorns his walls will.

Today, he is seated on one of the chairs by himself, with an open sketchbook in his lap. He scribbles away in the book, not immediately noticing me as I enter. I use that moment to look around, seeing the new art he’s put on the walls. It’s been a while since I’ve been allowed in here.

When I see the picture on the wall opposite me, I immediately freeze. I recognize it at once, framed and hanging prominently, even though it remains unfinished.

It’s the painting he made of me, his fated mate, when I was disguised. In the painting, I’m on the floor of his art studio, looking up at him through my mask with sultry eyes. My clothes are rumbled. My shirt, especially, is riding up.

Seeing it, I flush. He seemingly has not connected that I am the same person as his fated mate, and that has worked to my advantage thus far. But will seeing me next to a painting of myself disguised ring any bells? Will he make the connection?

I don’t want to find out, and I don’t want him to make that connection. So I keep my head down, careful not to hold any part of myself as I am in the picture.

“I’m here, Wes,” I say, to claim his attention. He seems so deep in thought.

He finishes whatever he was scribbling, a few hasty strokes and looks up at me.

“Oh, right,” he says. He closes his notebook.

Again, I glance at the painting, though I’m trying to avoid looking at it.

Unfortunately, he sees me looking. He glances at it and then back at me.

I hold my breath, expecting the worst.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? One of my newest works,” he says, a dreamy quality to his voice. He places his notebook to the side and stands.

“Uh… yes… It’s nice.”

“It’s not finished,” Wes says. “Though at this point, I’m not sure if it ever will be.” His voice falls. Glancing again at me, he clears his throat. “Forget it. That wouldn’t matter to you.”

On one hand, I’m hurt by his words. Why would he think it wouldn’t matter? Does he truly think I’m not interested in the things he cares about? It’s more likely that he doesn’t want to share those things with me.

On the other hand, I am relieved. If he believes it wouldn’t matter to me, than he must not have connected the dots that I am his fated mate, even with my picture right there. If he looked at the shape of my face, he would notice that it is the same, as is my body.

I can’t determine which is the more powerful emotion, hurt or relief. I feel as if both emotions are waging war inside of me, fighting against each other. Instead of truly feeling one or the other, I just feel uncomfortable and off-balance.

“Here,” Wes says. “I called you up here to give you this.” He moves to one of the bookcases along the wall – the ones that are filled with old sketchpads and art books. From among them he pulls out a newer-looking book with a hard cover.

He brings it to me and holds it out. “I thought this might help you.”

I take if first, on reflex and then look down at it.

The cover reads, Propriety and Unspoken Rules for Omegas.

Sylvia’s POV

I meet with Jake at a café downtown. While I didn’t witness what happened between him and Ollie, I certainly heard about it from Conrad, as well as about how he punched Jake right in the nose.

Even if I hadn’t heard about it, I would see the evidence of it now. Jake’s face is red, with a bandage still over his nose.

“You can’t give up,” I tell him, while he looks back at me like I have grown a second head.

“Ollie has made her feelings pretty clear,” Jake says. “And Alpha Conrad really emphasized his point…” Reaching up, he gingerly touches his nose and then winces.

“She only said those things because she thought Conrad might show up,” I say. Jake giving up won’t do for my plans. For everything to proceed as I imagine, he needs to continue to pursue Ollie no matter what. “That’s on me, for making all of this happen in a public place. If I had picked somewhere more discreet, I’m sure she would have run away with you.”

“I don’t know…” he says.

He’s going to need something more for me to fully convince him. What can I possibly say that will help encourage him to continue?

Of course he’s right. Ollie doesn’t want anything to do with him now, not even as friendship. At least from what I can tell. And who would? He’s acted like a brute, trying to force a kiss on her. Really, I wish I had a minion with a bit more charm.

This would be so much easier if Ollie actually liked this fool. Instead, I’m left manipulating a loser.

Then, ah! I think of it.

“She loves you,” I say, lying through my teeth. “I heard her say so. She was so upset by what happened, she’s barricaded herself in her room. ‘But I love him!’ she keeps saying any time anyone goes near her. It’s sad really, how much she is pining for you.”

Confusion crosses over Jake’s face, but I can tell that I am convincing him.

“I just don’t know…” he says. “If she’s locked up in the estate, what can I even do? The Alphas will never give me a chance.”

“I love my brothers,” I say, “But this isn’t about them. This is about you and Ollie only. If you want to win her, you need to speak with her privately.”

“But how?” Wes asks.

I consider a moment, then have a stroke of genius.

“Easy. You need to surprise her by sneaking into the estate to see her.”

His eyes go a little wide. “Is that even possible?”

“It is,” I say, “if I help you.”