Page 79 of Heat Hesitation

"Oh, my goodness. This is just terrible." Imogen whispers at me, offended on behalf of Ophelia, which makes me happy. She needs friends on this side of the fence to help her confidence. These battles will be endless for a while.

"What is it?" Ophelia asks once the server finally takes her order.

"Oh, Ophelia. I feel just awful. I don't even know how to show you."

Dial it back, Imogen. Ophelia's worried eyes dart from me to her friend. Her already slightly downturned eyebrows tilt further, making her look especially vulnerable. "Theo?"

"Don't worry about it, bunny, it's just another article. It's nothing."

She slumps in her seat but doesn't seem too upset. "What's this one about?" Because there have been quite a few, now, usually painting her in an unflattering light. Some are about her working at Queenie's, or being from South Loop. The worst, though, are the ones about Alma and the rumors recirculating from that terrible night ten years ago.

Imogen answers, "It's more pictures from your last catering event. They aren't very kind, I'll be honest, but it's clear to anyone who sees this trash they're trying to discredit you. They're getting desperate, because no one believes them."

"Which part?"

Imogen's dainty red painted fingernails, which match her perfectly applied red lips, click her glass. "All of it, of course. But especially the part about the rest of your pack."

Ophelia pulls out her phone. While she doesn't seem to care about the contents of the article, she's horrified by the pictures. They're all of her in her hideous catering outfit with the ugly vest and button-up shirt. In one, she's wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her arm; in another, she's taking a giant bite of a sandwich. She elbows me hard when I start laughing at that one. Despite Enzo being on the receiving end of the Rag's ridicule lately, there aren't any pictures of him, which makes me think someone's specifically out to get my girl.

By the time we get home, my brain is tired, but Ophelia, fortunately, doesn't stress any more about the pictures.

That night, we fell asleep in a pile of limbs. Ophelia and Sully are still dancing around each other, but it's become this weird, heated, sexual tension-building thing between them, so he's not joined her—us—in our sexcapades quite yet. When they finally give in to each other I have a feeling it's going to be explosive. The entire house is gonna be a fuck fest, heat or no heat.

She won't give in to that yet, but I think a spike is coming on. It's been building for weeks. Her temperature gets unbearably warm, and she'll wake up in the middle of the night, delirious and desperate for a knot. By morning, it's faded, but it's happening more frequently. I suspect being around her scent-matches is fucking with the pills' potency.

Since we were so late in preparing for the gala, we were left with very little time to prepare. Most households in the Hills will have hired make-up and hair artists, and Ophelia's never been confident doing any of this herself, so Greta happily helps her get ready.

I've always had a suit handy, as do the others. Enzo and I nearly always wear a three-piece, a vest beneath the suit jacket, but Asher and Sully opt out. Our tuxes, since it's a gala, are black, all with bow ties. Enzo wears a pocket square and has an honest-to-god time piece tucked into one pocket off a chain. He's insufferably perfect.

We may not have been keen to go to this event after the last year and everything going on with Ophelia and the OFA, but I look forward to showing off my omega.

By now, everyone's heard about her thanks to the Rag, so I hope they take flattering photos and are kind with their words about her because I've no doubt they'll be focused on us tonight. I wouldn't think it possible to have an unflattering photo of Ophelia. I may be biased, but she is extremely pretty. But the Rag always finds a way, and my little omega tends to get self-conscious.

If they don't stop writing damaging articles about her, the Rag and Constantine Pack will have words. They're targeting her and I want to know why painting her in a bad light is so important to them, why her cause, our cause, makes them feel threatened. Before I get too full of ideas, I'm pulled from my thoughts as my brothers beside me, waiting at the base of the stairs off the sitting room, all stiffen and stand taller.

I look up as she descends in her only slightly taller-than-flat shoes. Wild beachy waves pulled up and back, exposing her long, soft neck, drawing the eye down to the most incredible figure, in the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.

She takes my breath away.

Chapter 32

Ophelia

I'm nervous about going to the gala. It's a full circle moment for me, not just with the Constantines but with my family. It feels like closing a chapter. It's not that I'm accepting the OFA, but I'm trying to work with the system instead of against it. And tonight is part of that.

Still, getting to dress up, to see the guys in their tuxes, to be on their arms—I'm excited about it.

I take one last look in the mirror. The dress really is beautiful. Imogen thinks I'm making a fashion statement but I don't care about that. The dress is ethereal, and I feel like a princess in it. It took some effort getting ready, more than I'd normally put in, but thankfully Greta helped, so it wasn't too difficult.

My long, wild, wavy brown hair is pinned up and back, a few stray pieces framing my face. My makeup is simple, but with a dark smokey eye that makes my dark blue eyes pop, a simple gloss on my lips. Confident I can't do much else, I make my way downstairs, their scents hitting me first.

They each come into view as I descend the stairs and the sight nearly makes me cry—handsome, sexy, and confident, and all four, waiting just for me. Asher's warm brown eyes heat like molten lava as he takes me in. Theo's carefree grin falters, turning predatory. Enzo, who was looking at his phone, glances up and then freezes, mouth dropping open in awe.

They all make me feel so loved and so precious. Tears water my eyes. I take a deep breath because I don't want to get all emotional and ruin my makeup.

Sully helps with that.

"Come here, omega," he gruffly demands. I rush down the stairs until I'm standing right in front of him. He's practically scowling. Seemingly feral, his dark eyes and closely cropped hair highlight the pulsing tensity of his square jaw. Sully is bigger than the other guys. Bigger than Asher, more intimidating, and I feel like I want to please him, like I'd do anything for his approval.

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