Page 78 of Juliet & Her Romeos

He’s taller and more broad shouldered than I remember. His golden hair tumbles over his tanned face, and his unusual amber eyes are spellbinding.

He’s giving that dominant look, which makes Omegas swoon.

But the reason that my heart skips a beat is the scar.

It bisects Ambrose’s left eyebrow, narrowly missing his beautiful eye, before running down the edge of his cheekbone.

That wasn’t there, when I last saw him.

What the hell happened to Ambrose? How was he hurt?

My heart sinks.

There’s so much that’s a mystery about Ambrose. Anything could have been going on to keep him away for the last four years.

Perhaps, no matter how many times I’ve wrapped myself in the scent of the Alpha’s football jersey or reread his love notes, I don’t know him at all.

Swan tightens his hold on my hand, as Ambrose stalks up and down the line more like he’s inspecting his warriors before a battle than dancers.

“All the performances were flawless. As CEO of the Romeo Ballet Company, I am proud of you.” Ambrose’s voice is deep and rumbling.

It makes me want to purr. It’s hard to hold myself back.

Flawless?

Next to me, I notice Thiago’s shoulders slump in relief.

“I’ve arranged a feast with cakes baked by my Second Alpha at the academy as a reward.” Ambrose continues to pace up and down. I bite my lip. Please,look at me. But he doesn’t turn his head. “I know that this is a change to how things are done. But since my mom isn’t here, we’ll run things my way for now.” Ambrose’s smile is slyly dangerous. “Tomorrow, for Christmas, there will be a special lunch, decorations delivered, and presents for each student.”

The dancers burst into excited chatter. Mary whoops.

I bet Katerina and Dimitri are going crazy in the wings. But there’s nothing that they can do, if it’s the CEO’s orders.

It’s the perfectfuck you.

So, Ambroseisas good a man as I’d hoped he’d be.

“Awesome,” Swan mutters. “Amby is Santa too.”

“Now, for the choosing of the principals,” Ambrose declares.

Instantly, the dancers fall silent.

Shit, this is it.

I try desperately to catch Ambrose’s gaze.

He’s still not looking at me.

Why won’t he look at me?

I rock on my heels, flooded with nerves.

Next to me, Swan’s gaze is fixed on Ambrose like he’s frightened that if he looks away, then he’ll be abandoned again.

Ambrose reaches into his jacket and removes two long stemmed, purple roses. “I, Ambrose Romeo, on behalf of my pack, will not only be selecting the principals but also invoking the ancient tradition of Ballet Bonding Night.”

He says it like it’s a declaration of war.

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