Page 7 of Knot the One They Want

I just hope this omega knows what she's getting herself into.

CHAPTER 3

EVIE

The leather seats of the limo are buttery soft beneath my thighs, but they do little to soothe the nerves twisting in my stomach like a nest of vipers. I'm sitting in the back of the limo across from my father and Vivienne, and throughout the ride, the latter's critical gaze has been raking over my outfit with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"I can't believe you're wearingthat," she mutters, her perfectly painted lips curling in disdain.

I glance down at my vintage fit and flare dress, the rich blue fabric hugging my curves in all the right places. It's a one-of-a-kind piece from my favorite designer, hand-stitched to my exact measurements. I chose it since the color brings out the azure of my eyes and contrasts with my golden curls.

"It's a custom piece," I say, meeting Vivienne's icy stare head-on. "Made just for me."

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, it's clearly not made for someone of your... size."

Ouch.I may be curvier than the average omega, but the way Vivienne talks, you'd think I was a living hot air balloon. Thenagain, in her eyes, anything short of a twenty-six inch waist is unacceptable.

I bite back the retort dancing on the tip of my tongue, knowing it'll only earn me a lecture from my father about respecting my elders. As if Vivienne has ever respected me.

The limo pulls up to the Blackwood estate and my breath catches in my throat. The mansion is massive, dwarfing even my family's sprawling home. It's all towering ivy-laden walls and gleaming windows, like something out of a gothic romance novel.

Fitting, considering I'm about to walk into a den of wolves.

But I refuse to be intimidated. I know my worth. Even if everyone around me seems hellbent on convincing me to settle for less.

Well, everyone except Addison.

I touch the friendship bracelet encircling my wrist, the braided threads a tangible reminder of our bond. We made them at summer camp years ago, and they’ve been a talisman of strength that's been with us both ever since.

My other hand drifts to the locket resting against my collarbone, the delicate gold chain cool against my skin. It's the only thing I have left of my mother, the only piece of her Vivienne didn't sell or pawn off on my half-siblings.

If she ever got her claws on it, she'd do the same damn thing.

The thought sends a flare of anger through me, hot and bright. But I tamp it down, schooling my features into a practiced mask of polite indifference as the driver opens the door.

I step out into the crisp evening air, the gravel crunching beneath my heels. My father and Vivienne follow suit, the latter smoothing down the skirt of her designer dress with a practiced hand.

We make our way up the front steps, where a butler greets us with a warm smile. He's an older gentleman, with kind eyes and a grandfatherly air about him.

"Welcome to the Blackwood family estate," he says, ushering us inside. "Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood are waiting for you in the dining room."

Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood? I frown, confusion swirling through me. What about the pack?

But I don't have time to dwell on it as we're led through the foyer, our footsteps echoing on the marble floors. The dining room is just as grand as the rest of the house, with a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty.

At the head of the table sits Carl, looking every inch the imposing alpha in a tailored suit. Beside him is a beautiful woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes, who I can only assume is his wife.

And across from them... are empty seats.

My father clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck. "I apologize for the tardiness of my son's pack," he says, his voice strained. "I'm sure they'll be along any minute."

Any minute, my ass. It's clear from the pinched look on Carl's face that this is not the first time the pack has kept him waiting.

But ever the gracious host, he gestures for us to sit.

"No need to apologize, Carl," my father says, pulling out Vivienne's chair. "I'm sure they're just running a bit behind."

I take my seat, smoothing my skirt beneath me. Vivienne sits to my left, while my father takes the chair to my right. The minutes tick by, the awkward silence broken only by the clink of silverware and the occasional attempt at small talk.

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