Page 43 of Knot Your Romeo
“And that’s why I need you to stay in the cottage tonight,” Mom says, changing the subject. “Romeo’s older brother, River, is having a big birthday party at the manor. He’s a hockey player, and that means there’ll be alphas everywhere, drinking, getting rowdy. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
"Another one?"
"Yep. According to Mrs. Reynolds, there is always a party. Mr. Silver should put his foot down, but obviously guilt eats away at him. Anyway, stay away."
“Trust me, that’s the last place I want to be,” I assure her, and mean it. The thought of facing any of the Silver men right now makes my stomach churn.
She studies me for a moment, then her expression softens. “I know this is hard. New place, new identity. But we’ll make it work, okay? We just need to keep our heads down, do our jobs, and avoid complications.”
By “complications,” I know she means the Silver men. All of them. The ones who want me for my biology, the ones who want me for convenient sex, and the ones who think four hundred dollars is adequate compensation for a night of passion.
“I understand,” I say, though part of me wants to scream at the unfairness of it all.
“I need to run to the store for a few things for dinner,” Mom says, wiping her hands on a towel. “Will you be okay here alone for an hour?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Of course. I’ve got studying to do, anyway.”
After she leaves, I try calling Lottie again, but it goes straight to voicemail. A knot of worry tightens in my stomach. It’s not like her to be unreachable for days. I send her a text message.
Lottie, getting worried. Please call when you can. Love you.
With nothing else to do, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
Hours later, I wake to the sound of shouting and laughing. I stumble to the window and gaze toward the manor to see that half the town has arrived for River’s birthday party. I close my curtains and go downstairs.
“Have you heard from Lottie?” I ask Mom after she kisses me goodnight.
“I haven’t tried to call. I’m sure Blake will ask Carlos to let him know the moment we contact her.”
At that moment, the music gets louder, a pulsing beat I can feel even from the cottage, but my stomach churns not because of the party but as I think about all the calls that I’ve made to my sister. But I don’t tell Mom about them as I go to my room.
I curl up on my windowsill, watching the festivities from a safe distance. I’m relieved to be away from the chaos, but at the same I feel achingly lonely.
All these people are having fun. It’s loud, crowded, and full of beautiful people with more money than sense. In the distance, Romeo is holding court near the pool, but Cerise is conspicuously absent when she is normally welded to his side.
By ten o’clock, the party is in full swing. Drunk guests spill onto the lawn, cups in hand, laughter, and music floating across the grounds. I’m about to turn away when movement near the pool house catches my eye. Romeo emerges, his arm around a girl who isn’t Cerise. They stumble together toward the poolside cabana, his hands already working at her clothes. They disappear inside, but the cabana’s wall-to-wall windows leave little to the imagination. Romeo presses the girl against the glass, just as he did with me in the woods, just as he did with Cerise in the garden.
Tears burn my eyes as I watch, but my mind isn’t on him—it’s on Eli. A man who I thought I had a wonderful connection with. A man who couldn’t give me any more of himself than a fumble on his sofa.
When Romeo finishes with her, another figure enters the cabana—a male this time. Instead of leaving, Romeo welcomes him, the three of them entangling in a way that makes my cheeks burn.
And suddenly, I’m furious. Not just hurt or disappointed—absolutely livid. Romeo, who thinks he can have anyone he wants, anytime he wants, without consequences.
And there is Beck. A man who left me money like I was some prostitute he’d hired for the evening. And Eli, who took everything I offered and then rejected me when I asked for the one thing that mattered. The one thing I needed.
But I’m more angry at myself for being stupid enough to trust any of them.
I’m tired of being treated like I’m disposable, like my feelings don’t matter, like I’m just some convenient Omega to be used and discarded.
I’m tired of being lied to, manipulated, and made to feel like I should be grateful for scraps of attention.
I grab my jacket and storm out of the cottage, slamming the door so hard the windows rattle.
For once, I don’t care who hears me or who might be watching. I’m done being the good girl, the invisible girl, the girl who takes whatever treatment she’s given with grateful silence.
The estate gates are open for party guests, and I slip through them unnoticed. I don’t have a destination in mind—I just need to get away from this place, away from the Silver family and their entitled assumptions about what they can take from me.
I walk for what feels like hours, following the road away from the estate and toward the town. The late-night air is cool against my flushed cheeks, and gradually my anger settles into something more manageable—an icy determination to stop letting other people dictate my worth.
