Page 89 of Juliet & Her Romeos

Swan appears more stunned than I am to be surrounded by this opulence.

He’s trying to style it out by slouching in his seat. But I can tell how on edge he is.

When I clutch his hand in mine, he darts me a grateful smile

But then, I notice the way that he’s using his other nail to sneakily prise at one of the encrusted amethysts, which decorate the counter like the hearts of the roses that decorate it.

I catch his wrist, shaking my head.

Swan shrugs, as if to saywhat?

“You’re not Robin Hood,” I hiss.

“But I am a man in tights. Plus, I look good in them.” He casts the gem a longing glance. “We could start a secret stash just in case—”

“We won’t need one. We’ve been bonded by billionaires. You don’t need that gem.”

“But it’s so pretty.”

“So’s this breakfast. Look at all this food. It’s forus, Feathers.”

I lick my lips, eying our Christmas breakfast, which has been spread out on the counter: sliced apples and berries, freshly baked rolls, pots of chocolate spreads and syrup.

“Then I’ll steal apples from the rich and give to the poor Omega.” Swan snatches an apple slice and holds it up to my mouth.

“My hero.” I happily let him slip the apple between my lips. It’s sweet and fresh; the taste bursts on my tongue. “Except, I’m not sure that it’s stealing if the Sheriff of Nottingham has given it to us.”

Swan scrunches up his nose as he whispers, “More like Prince John…or just a mafia prince.”

I don’t like the edge of coldness that’s crept into Swan’s tone, as he eyes Vito, who’s hunched over the cooker flipping pancakes.

It’s not like Swan at all.

Vito is wearing a pink apron with the wordsBADASS BAKERon the front over leather trousers and a black t-shirt. He has the same black scarf around his neck that he always appears to wear.

He has a smear of flour on his cheek, and his long hair is tousled.

The counters around Vito are covered in empty pans and trays of mince pies and gingerbread men, which he must have got up at dawn to bake.

He already has a large plate of delicious looking golden pancakes cooked but is making more.

Swan has to be kidding, right?

This is the fearsome mafia prince?

Could Swan have made a mistake?

Yet as Vito works, I can clearly see the snakes inked on the back of his hands.

They mark him as clearly as the Rej bracelet that’s locked around my wrist.

The question is whether Vito had any more choice about having his body modified with that tattoo, as I had to be wearing this bracelet.

Are we both marked for the rest of our lives against our will?

I learned in the academy that it’s not only Omegas who are trapped by their dynamics. Betas suffer too.

What if Alphas also struggle with the role that they’re given?

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