Page 67 of Drama Queen

“Sit, sit, sit,” one of them said, her bright, sunny complexion far too much for a day like today. “We need to get you ready. All right, girls, let’s start with hair. The shoes are staying, and we need that gown up on a hanger getting scent suppressant aired out.”

I cocked a brow, looking up at the woman who was finger-combing my long, brown locks as they hung down my back, nearly touching my ass now that they were out of the twist.

“Scent suppressant? Why on earth would that be on the gown? Everyone already knows I’m an omega. Why does Cane–”

A tiny tug on my hair stopped my words, and I cast a withering glance at the beta through the mirror.

“Apologies, Ms. Bruchelli.” She ducked her head, her scent changing from the subtle vanilla of all female betas to that of burnt sugar. “I swear it was an accident.”

With a sigh, I nodded, reigning in the compulsory need to present myself as top bitch.

“It’s all right, um…I’m sorry. What was your name?”

Giving her a gentle smile, I held her eyes in the reflection before me, hearing the others get the gown out of the bag on the other side of the room. I knew I was snapping at her because I was terrified of how this would go, but I didn’t need to drop all my shit on her plate. I was sure she had enough duties to keep her anxious all day.

“Rory, mistress. Thank you.” Her smile brightened, and she reached around me for a slim, unmarked bottle. “And to answer your question, Mr. Cartalga ordered a scent suppressant on the gown because he does not want any unintentional heats to take place. He’ll be wearing them as well.”

My stomach clenched. But how stupid was that? This was a business arrangement. I had no reason to assume that Cane would want me going into a heat right away. He was a fair amount older than I was without a reported heir, but if this went through that concern would be reduced significantly. I could carry on his legacy for at least ten more years.

And Alpha virility never dissipated.

I didn’t have much to say after that. I just watched Rory go to work on my hair in the mirror. She seemed to pick up on my mood quickly enough, remaining silent aside from the few requests to turn this way or that. She asked if she was hurting me a few times as she pulled on my long strands of chocolate hair.

“Of course not.”

She smiled as I shook my head, completing her work on the updo. The truth was there was little anyone could do to actually harm me. My pain tolerance was high, even for an omega, which had impressed the slim number of partners I’d had in my life.

It had always been exceedingly difficult to find a beta among the Bruchelli pack who was willing to throw down with the Don’s daughter. I understood why, of course, but it certainly made for several heats passing without assistance.

Thankfully, omega heats were few and far between if they weren’t with an Alpha, particularly their scent match. But we all knew how rare those were.

“There you go. Beautiful. You’ll look so incredible in your dress, mistress.”

I blinked out of my head, shooing away my pointless thoughts, and met my eyes in the mirror. My hair had been swept up onto the top of my head in a loose chignon, face-framing sections left to hang near my eyes and ears. The sweeping curves created by the updo were lovely, and I had to admit that I was a bit curious to see how the entire ensemble would look together.

Hell, it’s your special day. You really should be more excited about the dress.

At that, the other attendants stole me to the other side of the room where said dress awaited me. A flurry of activity swirled around me as I was hoisted into my gown, which decidedly didnotinclude putting on undergarments, and I was impressed by the scent suppressant. I couldn’t smell the vanilla of the betas around me, and my own fragrance was utterly gone.

Thought of that spicy smell I’d picked up upon entry hit me, and I hoped that the suppressants worked as well on the Alpha’s suit if that aroma was coming from him. Then, before I knew it, I was staring at myself in a full-length mirror.

In my wedding dress.

“Holy fuck.” The words tumbled from me, and the betas giggled.

Rory was quickly at my side, perfecting the last few touches, which included handing me several items necessary for a pack joining ceremony. A thin chain of white gold was secured around my hair with a long pin, an attendant secured a similar thin anklet on my right side, and finally, another wrapped a white band of fragile lace around my left thigh, tying it with a bow.

“There. You’re ready.” Rory smiled at me in the mirror, the other betas doing the same, and I was led from the room down the hall.

“It’s so wonderful to welcome you to the pack, mistress.” Rory bowed her head as she handed me off to another butler, who gestured down another long hallway still decorated with that slim river of water.

“I didn't have much of a choice now, did I?” I mumbled and then shook myself.

I was supposed to look the part today, and if I was going to protect the few people who survived in the Bruchelli pack, I needed to honor this agreement. It was the only way to ensure they would have a home, a place to get away from the harsh world that existed beyond these doors.

The Bruchelli pack would be no more, but the people who were a part of it would have their lives, and so would I. To an extent, at least.

But that’s what you do for your pack. You put them first.

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