Page 183 of Knot Like Other Girls

We walk together through Braxley's sprawling penthouse toward the foyer where I can already hear him complaining loudly into his phone about his stylist being late with his cufflinks.

"Absolutely unacceptable! I specifically requested the diamond and platinum set to match my watch. No, I willnotwear the silver ones. They'll clash with everything!"

Troy makes a gagging motion that has me stifling another laugh behind my hand.

When we round the corner, Braxley's back is to us, his pale blue suit tailored to perfection as he paces in agitation. His hair is styled in that carefully messy way that probably took an hour to achieve.

"Fine, just bring them to the gala. And you're on probation, Jason. One more mistake like this and you're—" Braxley turns, finally noticing our presence, and freezes mid-sentence. "I'll call you back."

Hanging up, Braxley slips his phone into his pocket and gives me an appraising once-over that makes me feel like I'm being scanned for flaws. "You look passable," he says, though his expression suggests higher approval than his words indicate.

Behind me, I hear Savva's minute sound of disgust.

"Thank you," I say, the words automatic but hollow. "You look nice as well."

Braxley preens, adjusting his already perfect tie. "The Aston Martin is waiting downstairs. The teaser is already going viral.."

Of course it is.

"Will we have a security detail in addition to the pack?" I ask.

Braxley waves a dismissive hand. "Daddy's arranged for venue security. No point in extra muscle cluttering up my shots. Speaking of which—" he pulls out his phone and holds it up, "—quick pre-gala selfie for the grid!"

Before I can protest, he's beside me, arm around my waist, pulling me against him and holding the phone at what I now recognize as his signature angle. I paste on what I hope looks like an authentic smile, though the expression feels foreign on my face after two weeks with the pack.

"Perfect!" Braxley declares, immediately hunched over his phone. "Let me just add a filter... adjust the saturation... crop out the giant bodyguard..."

Troy's affronted, "Hey!" goes unacknowledged.

"...and post! On our way to change lives… hashtag Worthington Gala, hashtag Power Couple, hashtag Giving Back, hashtag Blessed…" Braxley narrates as his thumbs fly across the screen. "There! Now we can go."

As he strides toward the elevator, I exchange a look with Troy and Savva. Troy raises his eyebrows in disbelief while Savva simply offers a subtle nod and an already exhausted smirk of encouragement.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. Just a few more hours, I repeat in my head. Just a few more hours and I never have to pretend again.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is silent apart from the endless notifications chiming on Braxley's phone. He smiles at each one, occasionally tilting the screen toward me.

"Look at the engagement already! Thirty thousand likes in two minutes!" His excitement is genuine, if shallow. "We should take another in the car, maybe one of you kissing my cheek?"

"Let's see how we're doing for time," I deflect gently.

Troy and Savva follow us through the lobby, maintaining a professional distance while sticking close enough to intervene if needed. The doorman holds open the front door, and a cool evening breeze washes over me as we step outside.

The limo waits at the curb, sleek and silver in the low evening light. Braxley pauses for a moment, making sure passing pedestrians notice him with his expensive car and his omega fiancée on his arm. The calculation in every movement is no longer disillusioning. Just tiresome.

"After you," Braxley says, opening the passenger door with a dramatic flailing flourish of his hand clearly intended for any watching eyes. I can't help but compare the silliness of the gesture to the way Savva pulls it off, even though Savva isn't trying to be serious when he does it.

I slide onto the butter-soft leather seat, careful not to wrinkle my gown and set off another Braxley bitch fit. Savva and Troy slip in after Braxley.

As we all settle in, I take a moment to ground myself in the reality of what's coming. Tonight, I choose freedom. Tonight, I claim my true path.

Tonight, I begin the rest of my life with Pack Vanguard.

The thought brings a smile to my face that remains even as Braxley immediately starts recording.

"Hey, loves!" he exclaims to his invisible audience, voice shifting to that artificial enthusiasm he reserves for content. "Braxley here, on our way to the annual Worthington Charity Gala with mygorgeousfiancée, Bella!"

He angles the camera toward me, careful to avoid Savva and Troy, and I offer a small wave. All the conditioning has made my media smile automatic.

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