Page 41 of Royal Omega

I laugh despite myself. “You’re trouble, huh?”

“Only on tv,” Beatrice replies, batting her eyes. “So you like Carissa, for real, right?”

“Of course I like her for real. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes you are, and you smell like fresh sex, but trust me when I say that it’s not a given that you like someone just because you sleep with them. Especially not on this show.” She sighs as she takes another sip of coffee. “Case and point, me and Randy. Both of us thought we were going to get red roses in the season finale. Not so much.”

“Didn’t you sabotage the whole ceremony and scream FREE THE OMEGAS on the finale?”

“Semantics,” Beatrice says, flapping her hand at me dismissively. “For real, though, if you like her, lock her down. You won’t be doing her any favors, making her go through this whole show, stringing her along with pink roses.”

“Seth told us it’s better to give it time,” I say.

“Of course he said that, he doesn’t want the drama to end too fast,” Beatrice says, rolling her eyes. “The longer Conrad hates Carissa, the better it will be for the ratings. Producers. You can’t trust them as far as you can throw them. Though looking at you, that might be a fair distance.” Her eyes drift down to my muscles. “You are really, really hot, my friend.”

“Thanks?”

“Beatrice, are you objectifying Henry?” Izzy asks, gliding into the room as if on a cloud. She’s wearing that silk robe again, tempting me with the memory of pulling it open, revealing her delicious flesh.

My heart starts to beat a little faster, and I offer her what I know must be a lovesick smile. “Good morning,” I purr, pouring her a coffee.

She sips from the mug, wincing at the strong black liquid. “Sugar?”

“You got it,” I say, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Oh gross,” Beatrice groans.

Carissa turns to face her with a laugh. “Why did you come back here if you weren’t into the romance?”

Beatrice points her mug at Carissa. “Fair point.”

Before she can say anything else, though, there’s a knock at the door. “Ten minutes!” a female producer calls through the wood.

“Shit, it’s makeup time, and then back to bed,” Beatrice says. “Cameras will be here soon to capture our ‘wakeup.’ Unless you two want to be official, this hottie should go home.” With that, she takes her mug and skedaddles out of the room.

Carissa turns to face me. “Thanks for last night,” she says, seeming suddenly shy.

“Do you feel better? Heat spike gone?”

She lets out a little huff of laughter. “Yeah, I feel better. Thanks very much to you.”

“But you don’t want me to be here when the cameras arrive?”

Carissa bites down on her lower lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “I’m just worried that it will... complicate things.”

I nod, leaning down to give her a brief kiss. “I’ll see you soon, Izzy.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Henry.”

I give her a wink, grab my mug, and head for the balcony. I jump over the railing one-handed, and stroll into the living room, fully intending to make myself some breakfast.

Conrad is standing in the kitchen when I get there. He inhales sharply, his eyes turning black as he studies me. In a dangerously quiet voice, he asks, “What the fuck have you been up to, Henry?”

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