Page 64 of In Control

“Sophia, my alphas are gentlemen … well, two out of three. You don’t mind, do you, Ro?”

I stare back at them. A mixture of emotions collide around my body like bumper cars. I can’t deny my attraction to Sophia – like everyone else in this pack it seems – and the idea of driving her home excites the alpha prowling in my chest. But then there’s the concern – about my packmate, about my omega. It’s all a tangle.

If Gabe senses any of it, he ignores it, bundling Sophia into the car with him so I have no choice but to follow them.

When he climbs out at the back of the theatre, he hustles Sophia into the front seat next to me and, after kissing us both, winks at me and shuts the door.

Seems my omega isn’t averse to a little matchmaking. I’m not sure whether to be alarmed or impressed.

As I lean my elbow against the open window, and weave us back into the early evening gridlocked traffic, Sophia eyes my dark blue suit and wrinkled shirt.

“Were you working today?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” she says, fiddling with that pendant between her fingers. I squint at it, trying to deduce its shape.

“What?”

“Liam is working today. We just dropped Gabe at work and Professor Arsehole probably is too.”

“Professor Arsehole?”

“He’s not my favourite person right now.”

I decide it’s best not to ask, not if I want to avoid being dragged into the middle of it. Not that being dragged into the middle of something with Sophia sounds so bad …

“We all have demanding careers.”

“It doesn’t leave much time for each other.”

I wet my lips, considering this. “No, not as much as I’d like.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

She frowns. “Oh poor you.”

I laugh, swivelling my head to see if she’s serious. She is.

“You study physics, right?”

“Yeah, but law. And on the weekend too.”

“Hey, law can be exciting.”

“It can?”

“Yeah.” I shuffle on my seat, realising I want to impress her. Fucking stupid alpha crap. “I’ve had to track down clients’ ex-husbands before. Trail them. I once followed this guy halfway around the world.”

“Wait, what do you mean ex-husbands?”

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and decide to start at the beginning of the story. “My dad,” I said, “was a lawyer too. The boring kind,” I smile at her, “dealt with tax for fuck-off big companies and stuff.”

“Oh … kay …” she says, struggling to see where this is leading.

“He ran off with his secretary. But the bastard was clever about it. Tied things up so my mum never saw a penny of his money – neither did I for that matter. He walked out on her when I was ten and she had to scrimp and save, work her fingers to the bone to keep me fed and clothed while he was swanning off around the world.”

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