Chapter 5 Bitch, Why are you Lying to me?

My father leaves shortly after seven that evening. His dinner meetings are always later than I think a dinner meeting should be, but what do I care when it gets him out of the house until the wee hours of the morning?

I stand in the foyer and see him off, something he always expects of me, even though I have no clue why that is the case. It’s not as though anyone is here to see us play loving family with each other. Well, no one but the guards and the staff. But they know our relationship isn’t what it appears to be to the public. Not that they would ever tell anyone about it. My father has made every person who works for him sign an NDA. If any of them so much as uttered a word about what really goes on in this house, he’d yank them into court so fast, their heads would spin.

As soon as the door clicks behind him, I hurry upstairs and change into my pajamas before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and grab a bag of chips. None of the staff bat an eye at me bustling around. They know my routine on nights I don’t have to be the dutiful daughter to a monster.

Before I return upstairs, I poke my head into the security center tucked at the back of the house, where the guard on duty will hole up for the night shift, watching the cameras and making sure everything is as it should be.

“I’m heading up to bed,” I announce as I push open the door. Charles, an older beta with gray at his temples, spins in his chair to eye me.

He’s actually one of the kinder guards. He doesn’t get too up in my business, doesn’t watch my every move. So long as he knows I’m safe, he lets me do what I want. I feel a little bad that I’m about to sneak out on his watch.

“Settling in for a night of Alpha Love?”

I grin and shrug. “I’m a few days behind. You know I can only catch up on nights when my dad isn’t here.” That’s the truth. If my father knew I watched a trashy TV show about packs of alphas who go to a remote island with a bunch of omegas hoping to find true love, he’d probably remove the television from my bedroom and the one in the living room. But I’m lucky enough that no one on the staff has mentioned it to him.

Charles’ smile dims slightly at my admission, like the reality of my life makes him sad, even though he already knows how it is. “Well, have a good binge session. Let me know if you need anything, okay, Haven?”

I smile at him and nod. “I will. Thank you, Chuck.”

He beams at me like he always does when I use a nickname with him, and spins back toward the monitors, where the cameras watch nearly every corner of our house. I say nearly, because there’s a blind spot in the backyard, right near the fence, where an overgrown tree blocks the camera.

The blind spot also just happens to be on the side of my house that my bedroom is on. Which makes it relatively easy for me to slip out.

Once I’m in my room, I dump the tea down the sink in my bathroom and then position the empty cup on my bedside table, before returning to the bathroom and fishing the special makeup bag Florence gave me for my birthday two years ago out from its hiding space on the top shelf of the linen closet.

By the time Ren sends a text letting me know she’s on her way, I’ve styled my hair in big loose waves, my gray eyes are popping thanks to cat eye liner and smoky shadow, and my lips are painted a vibrant red. If I take a little extra time to make myself into someone who in no way resembles Haven Bell, no one but me will know. And Florence, probably.

That I might see the Calloway Pack tonight, that Creed so blandly stated that they want to court me, has my stomach tied up in knots of anxiety and excitement.

I want them to see the girl I am underneath all the binds my father has placed on me. The one that isn’t afraid to be daring and sexy, and an omega. I wish I could let my scent out, but the most I can do is not use a descenter spray. The suppressants I’m forced to take every morning still stifle it, makes it nothing more than a faint acidic tang with a spicy kick.

Maybe that’s a good thing. Most of the packs I met while at AOA didn’t particularly like my pineapple and chili scent. Many of them straight up told me it was too sharp. Not sweet like the other omegas, or floral like Florence’s hibiscus and citrus.

If the Calloway pack caught wind of my scent, they might change their minds about courting me.

Don’t you want them to change their minds, Haven? Remember that moment of panic when Creed said that’s what they wanted, that fear of your father finding out, and shutting you away for good?

I smother the more reasonable side of me, the responsible Haven that my father has curated. There is no place for her tonight. Tonight I am the fun loving Haven, the one that Florence cultivated in the academy. The one that no one recognizes as Haven Bell, Senator Frederick Bell’s daughter.

After two years of sneaking out, I have it down to a science. Slipping out my window, over the roof and down a drainpipe. I know it’s totally cliche, but it’s the simplest way for me to get out. My sneakers don’t make a noise as I dart across the wide expanse of the backyard, keeping in the shadow of the large tree and then up to the fence. A jump, a grunt as I pull myself up and then I’m landing on the other side. The bag on my back bouncing with the impact.

Ren is just pulling up in her beater of a car as I arrive at our normal rendezvous point.

“Hi,” I sigh as I settle into her front seat, and she takes off. We never linger too long right after she picks me up, just in case someone followed me somehow. The last thing I want is for Florence to get in trouble because of me.

Ren side-eyes me without returning my greeting. I frown. “What?”

She shakes her head as she flicks on a turn signal. “Nothing, it’s just… you look exceptionally pretty tonight, Haves. Like really pretty. Is there a particular reason for that?”

I scowl at her and then slide my hands over my pajama pants, smoothing out the wrinkles. “No reason,” I lie.

She hums, then reaches into the back seat to grab a wad of fabric and a pair of heels. “And there’s no reason for you to have requested my littlest, blackest dress, either?”

“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ on the word and wiggle out of my top. I frown when I hold up the fabric. “This isn’t your dress.”

“Nope. I made it just for you.” Warmth glows in my chest. Florence is an amazing designer. If she didn’t have her heart set on being a dancer, she could totally take the fashion world by storm. She made all of her costumes for her recitals at AOA and she’s only gotten better since then.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I pull the dress on over my head, smoothing it out as best as I can. It’s not black, but dark teal and there’s a diamond shaped cut out over my stomach and my lower back. I can’t tell how short it is since I’m sitting down and still wearing pajama pants, but at first glance it's… short.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” I can feel her glancing at me. Maybe she’s checking the fit of the dress, but I know better.

“Haven.”

“ Florence .”

“ Haven. ” Another hum from my best friend. “Does you looking so pretty have anything to do with the Calloway pack? The one that’s been following you around all week, popping up at every event your father drags you to?”

“Not even a little bit.” I slip my pajama bottoms off and bunch them together into the back seat. I squeal when the car slams to a stop, just barely catching myself on the dashboard with my palm. “What the fuck, Ren?”

Ren turns in her seat to glare at me safely now that the car is stopped. “Bitch, why are you lying to me?”

I sigh and slump into my seat, folding my arms over my chest.

She points at me, brows drawn low. “Don’t do that petulant shit with me, Haven Bell. I know you better than I know myself, which is why I’m one hundred percent sure you are keeping something from me. Now spill or I will turn this car around and drive home right now.”

“No!” I protest, because I know she’ll do just as she threatened. Florence doesn’t fuck around. “Okay, fine. Yes. I may have… made tentative plans to meet the Calloway pack tonight.” Ren eyes me. I eye her right back.

My best friend is pretty, really pretty like a cartoon princess. She has honey blond hair and porcelain skin, though there is a faint dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks. She’s willowy for an omega, but I suspect that has more to do with her grueling schedule as a ballerina rather than genetics. If she ever stops dancing, I’m sure she’ll be just as voluptuous as the typical omega.

But the really striking thing about Florence is her eyes. The best way I can describe them is kaleidoscope. Green and gold and brown. Bits of black and gray. Hazel is what it says on her driver’s license, but they are so much more. And to top it off, she has partial heterochromia in her left eye, a slice of blue cutting through her iris. Gorgeous and somewhat off-putting when she stares at you without blinking, like she’s doing to me now.

“Haven,” she starts slowly. “Why did you feel you needed to hide this from me?”

I shrug and tug down the hem of her dress. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m only out with you because of them.”

“So you thought it’d be better if they ‘ran’ into us at the bar, and you could pretend like it was a complete coincidence?”

I wince, but nod. “Yes, exact- Ow! Did you just hit me?” I rub the spot on my shoulder.

“I did! And I’d do it again in a heartbeat! I can’t believe you were going to keep a date from me, Haven. Honestly, are we even friends?”

“Yes!” I rush to reassure her. “Yes, of course we are. You’re my best friend!”

She balls up her fist and knocks on my forehead. “Is there anyone home in there?” I scowl and bat her hand away from me.

Her lower lip juts out as she leans back against the door. “If we’re friends, then why the hell would I be angry about you pursuing things with the first pack that has caught your interest since the academy?”

That’s not strictly true. There have been other packs I’ve been interested in. She just doesn’t know about them. Why would she when there was never any chance of my ending up with them, away from my father as their omega?

I honestly don’t know why this feels different, why I want to talk about them. Only that… well, they were so blatant in their want of me. So obvious about it. No one does that. Any male that approaches me is careful, soft, gentle. Too full of social niceties. It’s part of being a senator’s daughter and an omega, I think.

I shrug again. “We don’t get to see each other that much, and I didn’t want you to think our time together isn’t important. Because I adore you, Ren.”

Her pout melts into a soft smile. “I adore you too, Haven. And I love our time together, but I love you more. If you need to use me as an excuse to date a hot pack, then by all means do it. Once you’re packed up and bonded and away from your father, we’ll have more time together.”

My heart clenches at that. I want it. Want the freedom to see my best friend whenever I want, to be my true self. The only way that will ever happen is if I bond with a pack. Bonded omegas have a greater tolerance for alpha commands that aren’t given by their bonded alphas. Hence, my father could try to command me, but it likely wouldn’t work. Or if it did, all my bonded alpha would need to do is give me an alternative command and it would be overwritten. The need to obey them would be stronger.

The trick is finding a pack that wouldn’t abuse their power, and I’m not sure I’ll ever find one. My experience with alphas so far has been pretty dismal.

Same with Florence. While we were at the academy, we met with plenty of packs, sniffed their scents, found ones that would be compatible. But when they found out that Ren wanted to have a career and who my father was, not one of them stuck around. Instead, they went for omegas with far less baggage.

I lean against the door and shake my head. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

My best friend glances at me as she pulls the car into the road again. “About what?”

“That they’ll stick around. And this isn’t a proper date. I don’t even know if I like them.”

Ren laughs. “It is a proper date and you do like them. Otherwise, you wouldn’t waste your time.”

She’s not wrong. They are the first pack that I’ve shown any genuine interest in since AOA. But I think that has more to do with protecting myself from disappointment when they eventually leave me.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t know them. I don’t know what they want from me. What if they want something from my father and they see me as a way to ingratiate themselves with me?” I wouldn’t voice this fear with anyone else but Florence Karlin. She is my safe place. The only safe place I have in this world.

She nods. “That might be that case.”

Bitch.

“You’re supposed to tell me, of course, that’s not what’s happening! You’re supposed to make me feel better about this.”

Ren shakes her head, her mouth twitching into a rueful smile. “I won’t do you any favors sugar coating shit for you, babe. You know that. They might want something from your father. We have ample evidence that proves this to be the case.”

“I wouldn’t say ample .”

“But it’s also possible that they are interested in you . Why wouldn’t they be? You’re sexy and smart and funny and can be goofy and have fun.”

Every word she says should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. “They haven’t seen any of that, though. They’ve seen my father’s perfect princess. Quiet, obedient, demure.”

Ren reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And tonight you’re going to show them the real you. The one you’re able to be with just me. Maybe going forward you’ll get to be yourself with them too.”

It’s insane how much I want that.

I’m in deep trouble.

Two conversations with two of the Calloway pack members, and I already feel hopelessly invested in them. Like it might hurt if this goes south. Hurt badly . But if it doesn’t, if they turn out the way my heart is hoping… well, they could be the answer to everything.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I mutter to myself.

Ren squeezes, then pats my hand. “That’s the spirit!”

I chuckle and shake my head at her bubbly, positive attitude. It never falters. She is by far the nicest person I’ve ever met, if a little on the wild side. “Tell me about Giles and what he’s done now,” I urge her. Tonight she needs to vent about her choreographer and I want to give her a chance to do that before we meet up with my prospective pack.

She blows out a breath, puffing her cheeks as she does, before she launches into the newest round of complaints. Its seems that he offered her a larger part in the ballet—the ballerina who was cast had an accident and broke her ankle—but he propositioned her at the same time, only to backtrack quickly when she threatened to take it up with the director.

“That asshole!”

“I know!” She pulls into a parking spot, knuckles white with her frustration. “Thankfully, this is the last performance I’m contracted with them for, so I can look for other companies to move to. I’ve been doing research and there’s one in Alver City that doesn’t discriminate against omegas. So I might audition for them.”

“But that’s three hours away.” I hate that my voice is small, the protest weak. I hate that I protested at all. This is Ren’s dream. She deserves it. If being a principal dancer means she moves three hours away from me, then that’s what it means. She’ll still be my best friend, still be my safe space. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” she reassures me. “Believe me, I know. I’d hate being that far from you, too. But with any luck, the Calloway pack will have swept you off your feet by then, and you’ll be all loved up and safe.”

Safe. What would that even look like?

And how fucked up is it that living with my own father, a man with a voice in how our country is run, is unsafe?

“Put the shoes on,” Ren urges me as she flips down the visor to check her makeup. I do as she demands, then push open the door and step out. The heels are tall, and make my legs look phenomenal, just like I knew they would. One good thing about being my father’s daughter is I can rock a heel. Granted, they’re usually shorter than these, but I’m confident in my ability. I smooth the skirt of the dress down over my hips and thighs.

The dress Ren made for me is tight on the torso, the diamond cut out showing off my belly button, but then flows into a skater style, the hem falling to just shorter than mid-thigh. If I bend over, I will one hundred percent flash my panties. But I know I’m not the only one.

“Holy fuck, you look hot,” Ren says as she rounds the car, tugging the hem of her equally short skirt. We’re about the same height, but she’s all long lean muscles while I’m… not. I don’t mind in the slightest, though. I love my curves.

“Same, girl, same.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flushes and loops her arm through mine, tugging me past the line and right up to the bouncer. She always does this, and I have no idea how it works for her. As the daughter of Senator Bell, I could probably use his name to get in, but I would literally never do that. Not only do I not want to draw attention to myself in that way, but the idea of claiming him as my father makes my skin crawl. Even though that’s what he is.

I glance around the waiting crowd as Florence does her thing, flirting with the doorman, and it isn’t long before he’s stepping aside to let us in. She drags me in after her through the short hall and into the main part of the club.