Page 32 of His Sassy Omega
He huffed, a sound I was growing accustomed to. He huffed a lot.
“Fine. But it’s late and I need to sleep. Don’t do anything crazy, like text me back. We aren’t going to have a conversation tonight or anything.”
I ducked my head, hiding my grin at his sass. He was something else with that mouth of his, and his snarky attitude. “I wouldn’t dare dream of it.”
I did wait for the sound of him throwing the lock into place after he ushered me through the doorway, though.
And I may have waited in the parking lot, watching as the lights went off in the bakery, until a car pulled out from the back alley, the streetlight illuminating Quinn’s silhouette. And I may have waited for his text telling me he was home, before I turned the ignition in my SUV and made my way home.
Chapter Ten
Lachlan
I sipped my whiskey, my eyes roaming over my brother’s kink club, Sinful Playgrounds, from the VIP section he had marked off for us. I always liked to people watch a little, whenever I was inside Jamie’s club.
BDSM wasn’t my thing, but the people were…interesting. There seemed to be a lot of different kinks the club catered to, that I hadn’t even been aware existed. I was a little curious. Was there something out there I was missing?
Our mom had been a bit horrified when Jamie had returned to town, stating he had “retired” from whatever super secretive job he had held for the government, and opened a kink club. His job had always been a bit murky. He never quite gave us any answers, when we had pushed to understand what exactly he did for a living.
We’d learned not to ask and had just been happy the times he had shown up for any holiday or family event. All I knew was that he’d been retired for about four years, and the haunted shadows that had graced his face had finally disappeared. I was secretly glad he was home. I liked having all my brothers near, even if we tended to get on each other’s nerves.
Playgrounds, as the club was called by most people who held the rather pricey memberships, was exclusive. The fee was high, and the security checks long, before you were allowed past the lobby. If you made it into the inner belly that made up the club, the list of rules had been staggering to my rather sheltered mind. My brother took his business seriously, as well as the confidentiality and safety of all the members.
He'd gifted all of us with memberships when he’d first opened the doors. I didn’t come here often, if at all; only when he wanted to have a “family meeting” away from our mom’s prying ears.
I glanced up, and watched my brother, Brendan, coming towards me. It still amazed me a little, that we were all so alike in looks, yet so completely different in our personalities.
Where my dark hair was streaked with silver here and there, Brendan’s was tipping more to the salt and pepper side, heavy on the salt. He was the second oldest, and we all teased him about his hair having more gray than all of us combined. He wore silver-framed glasses that did nothing to detract from his features.
Brendan ran Sinclair’s, our family's top of the line department store. It reminded me of the classy stores from the fifties – five floors, and a cafeteria-type restaurant that served above decent food. The prices for merchandise ranged from extremely expensive to affordable, and he did his best to stock items that were a step above the local box stores, but within most people’s budget.
The store had been started by our great-grandfather and passed down to our grandfather, and father.
Before his death, our dad had expanded the vast family fortune into stocks and investments. He’d then developed a program where we offered start-up loans for local businesses, at rock bottom interest. That had been the stepping-stone of the foundation I now ran. I’d wanted to go a stepbeyond loans and help out struggling or new businesses with grants. I’d also wanted to start making charitable contributions to deserving sources that may have otherwise been overlooked.
I observed Brendan glancing around, his eyes locked on the line of Daddies with their boys, standing in line to meet Santa. The event Jamie had warned us about appeared to be a meet and greet with Santa.
I’d never understood the dynamic of a Daddy/boy relationship. It wasn’t my thing, but it was Brendan’s. We all knew he’d had a few boys over the years, but nobody that he had seemed very serious about, or at least no one he had brought to a family dinner. Looking at the line, I saw plenty of boys dressed on the younger side of things. More than a few had diapers poking out of their shorts, and pacifiers in their mouths.
Brendan had stopped, turning, his body going completely still. I tried to see what, or who, had caught his attention. I couldn’t see anything through the crowd before he headed to our table. He sat down, running a hand over his tired face, and into his thick hair, disheveling it.
“Rough day?” I asked, sliding my drink over to him. He looked like he needed it more than I did.
He sighed, taking a big gulp, and raising the glass to me in thanks. “My fucking toy manager quit!”
“That’s a problem.” I winced in sympathy. With Christmas just around the corner, the toy department was vital this time of year.
“No notice, nothing.” Brendan grumbled, his identical blue eyes straying back to the Santa line, before turning back to me. “Any idea what this little meeting is about?”
I shrugged, thanking the waiter when he brought me a new drink, without me signaling for one.
“Nope. You know Jamie, he can be as over the top as Mom sometimes. And as tight lipped as a damn spy.”
“Because I was a damn spy, dear older siblings.” Jamie appeared from nowhere, like a ghost in the darkened shadows of the club. Silent as a cat, he plopped down in the booth, sliding over so his back wasn’t facing the crowd. He was the youngest of the four of us, and his hair was still pure black, not a touch of gray anywhere. A fact that annoyed Brendan to no end.
We were all the same height and width, but Jamie had always been silent on his feet. His face gave nothing away if he didn’t want it to, and he could go from serious to happy-go-lucky, in a blink of an eye. When I’d once broached the subject of his previous job, he’d joked, “I could tell you, Lach, but then I’d have to kill you. And I like you. Most of the time.” I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure if he’d been joking or not.
“Where’s Finn?” Jamie asked, looking around.
