Chapter 33
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Ollie’s Pov
The next day after school, while visiting the venue where the ceremony is to take place, I carry a clipboard and take time inspecting each aspect. The entire large room is Bustling with people working hard.
Builders are crafting the stage in the front of the space, while volunteers are helping to arrange the many chairs into long rows facing the stage. Some are up on ladders, hanging ribbons and fabrics that are dotted in the pack’s
crest.
Everything seems to be in order today, progress is good. There’s only one lingering problem that I can see, and that is in the form of Sylvia beside me. Per Diana’s direction, she’s shadowing me today, presumably to get a better idea of what kind of flowers should go with the decorations already in place.
Instead, she has requested changes at every turn.
“The banners should be higher, and the color is all wrong. Wouldn’t they look better in blue?”
“These banners have been specially prepared,” I tell her. “There’s no way to have them redone in time for the ceremony.”
She frowns, dissatisfied. “There should be more chairs.”
“We are already at maximum capacity in terms of the fire codes,” I explain. “We legally can’t have more chairs.”
“The stage should be bigger too, and taller! Everyone should be able to see and appreciate my brothers.”
“To raise the stage, we would have to completely dismantle and rebuild it,” I say. “There just isn’t time to have that done.” In addition, though I don’t tell her this, the waste would be unethical.
Sylvia shoots me a glare. “You are purposefully shooting down all of my suggestions.”
“I’m just being practical.”
“You should try better to please me,” she says, her voice dropping into a low hiss, likely intended for my ears only. “Or I’ll tell my brothers how mean you are being.”
This old threat again. How I tired of hearing it. I wish I could thoroughly tell her off, and let her know just why that threat doesn’t mean anything to me anymore that when I’m free of this pack, and free of her, I won’t even
look back.
—
But now, as ever, I hold my tongue. If I reveal my hand too early, the brothers may move to try to block me from leaving. For now, and possibly forever, the less anyone knows about my plans, the better.
I may never get to feel the smug satisfaction of properly telling Sylvia what I think of her, but none of that will matter when I am free. The greatest revenge I could have on her and the quadruplets is to simply move on with my life and put all of this in my past.
Unfortunately, to maintain the peace until I can escape, I have to continue to force myself to be subservient to Sylvia and her wishes.
“I can’t change the things you want me to,” I tell her as gently as I can. “We are too far along in the process. There just isn’t time. Maybe we should just talk about the flowers…”
Flowers, I’m hoping she will recall, are the only things she is supposed to be focusing on. Diána ma that clear at dinner last night. Sylvia wants to take the inch she was given and run a mile with it, but I know if I allow that to
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Chapter 33
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happen, I’ll be the one to be blamed.
I wish Diana had just told her no. Sylvia would have had to listen to her mother, and I’d be free from this responsibility.
Nothing ever seems to work out how I want it to around here, not since Sylvia entered our lives.
“Flowers, flowers, flowers,” Sylvia grumbles. “The easiest thing to pick.”
I ignore her and continue to try to bring her back on track with the planning. “As the colors are mainly white and gold with hints of green, I was thinking that the flowers should soft whites and peach–colors.”
“Red roses,” she says. “And blue ones too. Oh! And black ones.”
Red and blue together are an interesting mix, both of which would clash with each other and the green. But to add black on top of all that?
“Perhaps a soft yellow rose?” I suggest, as she seems stuck on the roses. “Or a white?”
“Mother said I get to choose, Ollie,” Sylvia says to me with annoyance. “And I don’t remember asking you for your suggestions.”
“That may be,” I say, still trying to be patient. “But the ceremony is my responsibility. And red, blue, and black roses will not match the color palette already being used.”
“So change the color palette,” she says. “It’s not like it’s hard.”
“But the fabrics –”
“So tear them down.”
“We won’t get new ones in time
“}
“Ollie, why are you making this difficult? Just stop them from putting them up!” Sylvia says, her raised voice drawing attention.
I want to reprimand her, but what can I say? Especially with everyone looking? As a blood relation of our soon–to be–leaders, she outranks me here and everywhere.
When one of the volunteers continues to try to affix one of the banners to the wall, Sylvia forward, grabs the base of the fabric and tugs, nearly pulling the volunteer off the later.
In a flash, I rush over and grab Sylvia’s arms to stop her.
“Let go of me!” she shouts.
“Ollie!” a familiar voice shouts from the entrance of the room.
I still at once. Sylvia, glaring at me, starts to smirk. With everyone else, an eerie silence falls over the room.
Glancing toward the entrance, I see the quadruplets, Conrad in the lead, storming toward where I’m grabbing Sylvia.
“Let her go,” Conrad demands.
“But, she –”
“Now, Ollie,” Declan growls.
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Hugh doesn’t wait for me to act. lle comes up behind me, ps me by the upper arms and pulls me away, A memory flashes through me, of Hugh and me at the cabin as he held me from behind and kissed me. Immediately, I release Sylvia. As she faces the brothers, the smirk slips from her face. In its place, her eyes go wide and her bottom lip trembles.
“I was only trying to help,” she insists. “Then Ollie just grabbed me. She didn’t want me to touch anything, saying I’d only mess up her decorations…”
Despite the obvious lies, the brothers take her word as gospel, and look at me with fresh anger blazing in their eyes. Well, all but Hugh. He might be glaring too, but I can see him from where he stands behind me.
His fingers dig into the skin of my arms. Where before he held me so tenderly, as a lover would, now he grips me like an enemy. It’s a harsh comparison that leaves me feeling cold.
Maybe I wouldn’t mind such roughness with a lover… I’ve considered it some, and it intrigues me.
But not with Hugh. He prides himself on showing his lovers only passion and pleasure.
For his fingers to bite into me like this…
If he knew I’m his mate, would he still treat me so?
I hate that the only answer I will believe is yes. That is precisely why I hid my identity to begin with.
My wolf Scarlet whimpers in my mind.
I try not to show that it hurts me too.
Chapter 34
