Page 65 of Omega in Hiding

He lets out a harsh breath. “I don’t know what to do with you yet.”

“Okay.” I nod, heart racing. It’s good that he’s conflicted. Maybe his feelings for me are as deep as I’d hoped. If he doesn’t want to hand me over to Valentino, that’s a very good thing. “I… I’d like to stay here with you, Paolo.”

His eyes are dark blue and hostile as they meet mine. “Why?”

I lift one shoulder and admit, “Because I missed you.”

His eyes flicker. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

Frustration nips me, but I stamp it down. He has good reasons to not trust me. I need to prove to him I’m worthy of his trust. “Let’s get a room here. We can talk about things more easily if you’re not driving.”

He grunts. “Maybe.”

“I’m hungry too. Are you hungry?” I give him a little smile which he ignores.

He hesitates, and then opens his door. “Let’s go.” He shuts the door before I can respond.

Biting my tongue, I get out of the car. The valet gives me a funny look and I remember I have a swollen lip. My face warms and I move toward Paolo. He puts his hand on the small of my back, but instantly removes. Still, it comforts me to know that his instinct was to touch me. He’s trying hard to keep distance between us, but I don’t believe he really wants that. He’s hurt and confused. It’s my job to reassure him that what we had together, though brief, was meaningful.

The Rosewood Inn is charming with a classic brick façade and ivy-covered walls. A small garden courtyard sits to the side of the hotel, filled with blooming flowers and the soothing sound of a trickling fountain. The clerk behind the front desk must recognize Paolo because he stumbles over his words, and drops his pen several times. He doesn’t question when Paolo uses a fake name, and he doesn’t ask for ID. I tend to forget that Paolo is a Syracuse. People are afraid of the Syracuse syndicate for good reason. I should probably remember that. Paolo’s energy is much gentler than Valentino’s, but he’s still a Syracuse.

The room is nicer than expected. Natural light filters in through lace-draped windows, which offer a picturesque view of the inn's tranquil garden courtyard. There’s only one queen-sized bed in the room. My heart races as I realize that. Paolo could have asked for two beds, but he didn’t.

Even though it’s day time, I switch on the lamp next to the bed. I feel nervous, and not sure how to act. Paolo was so distant and angry in the car, but then he only asked for one bed. My stomach swirls with what that might mean. I’d give anything to sleep in his arms tonight. Or does he maybe expect me to sleep on the floor?

He slips out of his suit jacket and he sits in the leather chair near the window. I study his brooding profile. He stares out the window, a lock of dark hair on his forehead and a scowl on his face. I want to go to him and smooth that frown away, but I assume his scowl would only deepen if I approach him.

I perch on the edge of the bed and I’m embarrassed when my stomach growls loudly. He glances over and I grimace. “Sorry.”

He studies me, looking a little snooty in his dark suit and red tie. He reminds me of the day we met. Back then, he’d seemed snobbish at first, but then he’d offered to help me with Baby Joesph while I showered. My heart aches remembering that first meeting. That feels like a million years ago. I want that Paolo back. I want the alpha who smiled at me easily, and made little jokes, to return.

“We should order food,” he says brusquely. “You said you were hungry.”

“Okay.” I smile tentatively, but when he doesn’t respond, I add, “I don’t have my wallet. I… I left it back at the apartment.”

He squints at me. “Why would you need your wallet?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. To pay my half?”

He sighs and stands. He moves toward me and my heart somersaults, but then he goes to the phone on the nightstand. I feel letdown that he wasn’t moving to me, but of course he wasn’t. He’s still upset with me. He dials the kitchen, but he doesn’t ask me what I want. He softly speaks into the phone and then sets the receiver down.

Trying to make a joke, I say, “You didn’t just pretend to order food, but actually call Valentino, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Paolo,” I rasp. “You’re making me so nervous. You’re so serious.”

“Good. This is a serious occasion.” He studies me with his cool eyes. “I’m trying to decide what I should do with you, Connor. If I decide a certain way, you’ll probably die. Don’t you think that’s pretty serious?”

“You won’t do that to me.” I stand and we face each other. “I… I just can’t believe you would.”

“I didn’t know the real you.” He shrugs. “It’s possible you didn’t know the real me either.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say softly. I inch closer to him and I’m relieved when his breathing picks up. He wants to act like I’m nothing to him now, but he’s a fake. “I liked that old version of you a lot better.”

“Why? Because he was a naive pushover?”

“He wasn’t either of those things.” I take a chance and grab his hand. “He was funny and warm. He protected me and made me feel safe.”

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