“Hi Marc.”
He gives me the famous Marc once over. “Still as stylish as ever, I see.”
I speak through clenched teeth. “Yeah. You too,Marc....”
Marc means well. He’s like the brother I never had. It’s just his way of showing me he loves me by criticizing my clothes. We’ve been doing it for years. Ever since he developed a skill for fashion.
I think he was ten.
He tends to spend most of his days with his bonded pack of four hunky Alphas (lucky guy). There’s no missing their crescent-shaped bite marks around his neck, and I won’t deny the jealousy that bubbles inside me.
I will never have a bite mark.
Marc went to Blossoms with Chloé. He graduated two years ago, and has been enjoying the perks of Omega life ever since. He’s a natural homemaker, and I think he and his pack are even thinking about adopting children.
Marc would make a great dad. He’s always been protective of me and Chloé and I love him. I truly do. I just wish he would leave me and my ripped skinny jeans alone.
They’re not even ripped on purpose. They’re just well-worn. Well-loved. I get attached to my jeans.
Chloé still lives at home with Dad, while I have an apartment in the city. I moved out at eighteen. I’ve always been pretty independent, and soon as I was able to, I got my own place. I even got the chance to go to college and study a subject that I love. Not that I make much money from my art yet, but I’m slowly getting there.
At the moment, I draw pet portraits for clients, and they’re gaining some popularity online.
Chloé isn’t so independent. Like most Omegas, she lives a sheltered life. It’s quite common for Omegas to live with their parents until they come of age. Sometimes even longer.
Chloé has completed all of her Omega training now. She graduated from Blossoms, just like Mom did twenty-five years ago, so she’s free now to do as she pleases. But it’s a dangerous world out there for a sweet little Omega. And the thought terrifies me to the core.
It’s worse if you’re the famous daughter of a hotel tycoon. Chloé will be a prime suspect for predators for sure. It’s a good thing she has bodyguards. Dad’s personal hire.
I never got bodyguards. I never needed them.
When Dad is away, I tend to stay at the family mansion with Chloé. She gets lonely and needs the attention. We’re so opposite. I sometimes wonder if I was adopted, but I have Dad’s eyes.
Marc pulls me in for a hug, and how could I forget that he was a hugger?
It must be an Omega thing.
His caramel orchard scent tickles the back of my throat, and he always smells so good. Marc is actually Chloé’s personal shopper/stylist/closet cleaner. Every ‘It’ girl needs one after all, and you couldn’t find anyone better than Marc Wong.
His mother, Jade, was best friends with our mom at Blossoms. So the three of us pretty much grew up together.
Chloé appears from the closet, and to my relief, Marc’s eyes stay on her face. “Thank goodness you’re here, Marc. You have to help me find a dress for Ney Ney. She insists on going to the club in her jeans!”
“No, I don’t. I didn’t even plan on going!”
Marc moves like a man on a mission, tying his pink hair up into a bun. “Well, we can’t have that now. Those jeans need to be condemned.”
“Hey!” I snap.
They don’t hear me. They just search through Chloé’s many designer garments, and why am I being ambushed?
They talk amongst themselves about me. All good stuff, but my jeans are still crying. “She’s hour-glass,” Marc states. “So, we need something that accentuates her wonderful curves.”
Wonderful?
I take back what I said. I love Marc and all his scathing remarks.
Marc works in fashion, so he knows his stuff. Still. Hour-glass? I have honestly never given it much thought.