Page 105 of Knot Just for Show

Teddy’s confession, though incredibly heartfelt and doubly credible…still feels somehow incomplete. Why, I’m not sure. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but my gut tells me that we still haven’t heard the full and complete truth.

I feel it most when we catch one another’s gaze, be it while chatting—exchanging kisses with Ursula, or passing in the narrow aisle of the airplane on the way to the bathroom. Something is up, even if what we have heard from Teddy is the real deal—something tells me that it isn’t the whole story.

We arrive at LAX in the late afternoon, collecting our massive passel of luggage before hauling our spoils to the sidewalk.

I’ve been so used to Timmy and Kimmy and the ubiquitous white sprinter vans, that I completely miss the young woman standing on the curb in front of a black stretch limousine—her black felt car coat sharply tailored, a cap and dark sunglasses adding to her inscrutable air.

“Welcome back to Los Angeles, Mr. Ewing,” she greets Lysander, opening the door for him before moving to the trunk of the limo to begin loading our luggage.

“Thank you, Emily.” Lysander and his Chauffeur exchange a genial shaking of hands, her icy features melting into a smile.

As if she’s only just remembered there are five more of us—Emily scrabbles back up onto the curb, taking Ursula’s valise and train case before Ursula can heft them into the back herself.

“Please, Miss Ursula, let me.” Emily makes short work of packing away the luggage before offering Ursula her arm—guiding her through the open car door and into Lysander’s waiting arms on the black leather bench seat inside.

Emily refuses help from Ronan, Ash, or I, so we crawl into the limo; the interior redolent with the scent of high quality leather, expensive after shave and cigar smoke of riders past, filling the small space with the rich smell of wealthy men.

“Should I call ahead to Berthold and have him start an early supper?” Emily asks Lysander as she settles herself into the driver’s seat—the partition still down for the moment.

“That would be lovely, Emily,” Lysander sighs—one arm around Ursula’s shoulder—his other hand resting over Teddy’s knee.

“Of course, Mr. Ewing.” She nods to him through the reflection in the rear view mirror before raising the plexiglass partition between her and the rest of the limo.

“Damn.” Teddy shakes his head as we pull away from the airport pickup loop. “I didn’t realize you were like…Ritchie-Richloaded.”

I can see Lysander squirm a bit at this.

“Well, it’s not his yet—right?” Ash interjects, looking to Lysander for confirmation as he leans forward and begins procuring himself something to drink from the small cooler drawer under the in-limo bar setup—clearly more at home in the trappings of the rich and famous than the rest of us, a credit to his years living as KR3OSOTE. “According to Ian, Britt and Suzi had been casually-not-so-casually asking money related questions on their dates,” Ash continues, cracking open a can of ginger ale and splitting it between two small tumblers before passing one to Ursula. “She had really hammered him on inheritance questions—which had tipped him off to her interest in Lysander’s money, as well as his potential competition for richest dude in the bubbles.” Ash shakes his head disapprovingly, his septum piercing clicking gently against the glass as he takes a swig of his ginger ale.

Lysander’s smile is uncomfortable, but his voice is even as he ventures to ask, “So what was old Ian’s final assessment? Who came out as top pick for the gold diggers?”

“While you were bet on to have a larger bank account—access to it, contingent upon keeping your rich parents happy and theirjudgment of your fitness to inherit their massive fortune…that was not a given,” Ash winces, suddenly realizing that Lysander may not have found this conversation as amusing as he did.

“Hey—can I be a bit of a bitch and make a special request?” Ursula bats her lashes innocently, taking a sip of her ginger ale.

“Of course!” all of us begin to answer, overlapping one another—the bunch of us eager to please, to find some sense of normalcy after the emotional turbulence of the last 24 hours.

“Can we just forget about the other people on this show and focus on getting through the next few days?” Her smile is bright, but trembling. “I know that there’s all sorts of drama swirling around—but I hate to remind you that this is going to be my first heat, and I’m more than a little scared about how things are going to go,” Ursula admits, her voice becoming smaller and smaller until she just falls silent.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Teddy reassures her, reaching across Lysander’s lap to squeeze Ursula’s thigh. “A bunch of us have a good amount of experience—and it’s Lysander’s first time too.” Teddy’s hand moves from Urusula’s thigh to Lysander’s knee.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you my best, too,” Lysander adds hurriedly—looking desperately to Ursula, who pecks a kiss onto his nose to comfort him.

“Of course not,” Ursula chirps sweetly, turning on the bench seat to offer her outstretched arm. “I know all of you will take care of me—but all this talk about the other girls and guys, about the jockeying for money and attention,” Ursula sighs. “We’re going to have our hands full handling our day-to-day lives—meeting each other’s families and all of that before they induce the heat.” Her smile wavers, concern putting deep lines between her dark brows. “I know that we’re going to go through some stuff over the course of our lives together if we decide to biteinto a pack together…but this feels artificially unmanageable at times, if that makes sense?”

“It makes a lot of sense, I feel the exact same way,” I encourage Ursula. “I, for one, am really stressed out about what my work-life balance is going to look like,” I admit, my pride taking a blow even if I can breathe just a tiny bit easier for having made this small confession.

“Well, that’s what this is all about.” Ronan brings his hands together in a slow motion clap, his quartz eyes taking a turn about the limo—resting upon each of us one by one. “We figure out if this actually works. I speak only for myself—but I’m very invested in making this work, whichever way I can,” he adds with finality.

***

The limo pulls through a set of huge iron gates and up to the front entrance of Redthorn, the secondary estate of the Ewing family—originally meant to serve as the Ewing heir’s omega nesting dowry, or his pack’s home base—were he to be designated as an alpha.

Since Lysander ended up a theta who most certainly hadn’t stepped into his father’s shoes as a real estate investor; Redthorn’s future seemed somewhat uncertain. While Lysander had spoken very little of the estate by name before proposing that we use it as our nest for Ursula’s first heat, he hadn’t mentioned any other residence—so this must be his home? I had assumed he lived in some sort of luxurious domicile—though admittedly I had just assumed that meant an apartment off West 12th–not far from the gallery he co-owns, or possibly some insanely posh home in La Crescenta where he rests his head in between trips around the globe to acquire and sell eye-wateringly-expensive works of art. I hadn’t known that places like this existed so close to LA; spires of red brick and black slate roofs appearing from rolling green, rose gardens thick withblossoms, and expertly tended hedge mazes like some mystic English manor country house.

“Welcome to Redthorn, Mr. Rendard,” Emily re-greets me as she opens the door to the limo—emptying me out onto the flagstone walkway to the front doors.

“Holy shit…” Teddy mutters under his breath, stumbling up onto the walkway beside me. “I feel like I’m going to get hassled by security if I try to walk in there, he mumbles out of the side of his mouth, giving me a meaningful look.

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