Page 102 of Mark & Don't Tell

My heart fluttering, I glance back at Vic, who is watching the whole thing with a big grin tugging at his lips. His smile is so beautiful. “Are you coming or what?” I shout to him, and Kai and Linc laugh.

“You’re perfect, you know that, right?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I bat my eyelashes at Kai. “I know.”

The guys all laugh again. Kai’s hand is on the doorknob, but he waits for Vic to join us before opening it. As the door swings wide, a rush of bergamot and cinnamon-scented air floats out of the house. There are traces of sweet myrrh, too, like Vic’s been here recently.

All that’s missing is me.

“Last chance to say no,” Linc says, holding my gaze.

“This is all I’ve dreamed about for years,” I confess. “I’m all in.”

“Good,” he purrs and carries me over the threshold, into my new home. “Because we’re not letting you go.”

Unloading the truck doesn’t take long. It helps that we left all my old furniture behind. I won’t miss my threadbare couch, scoffed coffee table, or bed. Plus, bringing that stuff into this house would be awkward.

Oh hi, do you mind if I put my rickety table down on your really expensive, super shiny wood floor?

Yeah. My stuff doesn’t belong here.

Part of me worries that neither do I. I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck for so long, always with the threat of losing my home looming overhead. But these guys own their house. While it’s not overly opulent, it’s clear money wasn’t a concern when they decorated the home. The gleaming wood floors are probably the most worn part, and even those are gleaming and pristine.

Everything else—the dining room table, the hutch full of formal dinnerware, the living room set, hell, even the little entryway table—are probably more expensive than all my furniture combined and looks brand new. Or maybe they’re made of quality materials and hold up better to the test of time than my discount dresser or bedside table. The house is masculine, but clean and minimalist, something I can get behind because it doesn’t make me feel quite so bad for not having anything to add.

Trying not to overthink where I came from and how clear it is that I probably won’t fit in with any of their rich friends, I tell myself that it’ll all be fine. So far, being an omega to this pack has been so easy. So...right. My money insecurities shouldn’t impact how I feel about being theirs. I’ll simply have to learn how to adjust to this new lifestyle. With the four of our incomes combined, I doubt there will be any times when I’ll have to worry about food or how I’ll pay the internet bill.

That should be a relief.

It’s not like I’m a gold digger. I had no idea they were rich when they asked to court me.

Ugh. Come on, Daria, stop worrying and start enjoying the moment!

Today is a happy day. Today is an amazing day.

I grab the last bag from the back of the truck, the one with my favorite things for my nest—a stolen shirt from Vic, a jacket from Kai, and some other essentials, like twinkle lights and my favorite fuzzy heart-shaped pillow. Although my nest hoard is admittedly nothing like my vision boards, it serves its purpose.

I head inside and head up to the second floor, following my nose and the path the guys have taken. There are eight bedrooms in this house, but I’ve only seen four. Each of the guys has their own, and so do I. My nest will be a shared space, and the room needs just the right vibe. Instead of heading toward my pack’s voices, I pivot and walk in the opposite direction, down the hall and toward the grouping of the remaining bedrooms. The first room has its own en suite bathroom and basic decor. Nothing fancy, but it could work, if not for the west-facing windows.

Logic says this house will have a good HVAC system. Past experience says I’ll still sweat my ass off in the summer. No thanks. I move to the next room, recoiling when a faint sweep of Ryan’s scent hits me. My stomach knots, and I slam the door. Definitely not that room.

Does he come to visit? I mean, the guys have said in passing that he doesn’t come around much, but he still has a room. What happens if he needs a place to crash or if he shows up drunk some night?

That’s a future Daria problem. Good vibes. Only good vibes today.

Shaking off my doubt, I move to the third door and take a breath. “Third time’s the charm,” I murmur to myself and twist the knob. The door swings open, revealing a room that’s been sloppily torn down to the studs, chunks of drywall fighting to cling to them, held on by one measly nail. The tack strips from a carpet still outline the room. But that’s not what makes my brow furrow as I step inside to take in the destruction.

The energy is way off.

Something tangibly horrible and unwelcoming. Something unfamiliar and threatening. This isn’t a safe space. The hairs on my neck rise, and a tiny little growl builds in the back of my throat.

So much for good vibes.

A familiar scent hits my nose, and I turn, catching Kai watching me with a guarded expression. “We’ve brought everything in.”

I nod, a hard line between my eyebrows. Why am I suddenly so on edge?

He hesitates outside the room, almost as though he’s reluctant to come in. “Lincoln struggles to find the right way to show he cares...” Kai studies me from where he stands. “But with you, he doesn’t even hesitate. Vic’s always worrying he’ll never be enough, and yet, every chance you get, you’re there to remind him exactly how much you want him.”

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