Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

I push past the thought, too tempted to return to my ill temper if I let the idea linger.

Tonight is about showing Daphne what I have to offer.

I stand in front of the mirrored closet doors in my room at Cypress House, pressing the finicky little onyx and gold stud cufflinks through my French cuffs.

My black satin bow tie hangs undone around my neck—my gold wireframe glasses still perched on my nose.

“Well, well–Cosmo Lamont donning the monkey suit?” Sol teases, dropping his packed duffle bag onto the bed with a slight bounce.

“Indeed. Magnus is giving you a ride to the airport—right?” I can’t spare Sol too much of my attention, my goddamn bow tie isn’t cooperating.

“No, I called a ride. He and Julian have a thing tonight… Oh wait!” Sol slaps his own forehead.

“Shit, it’s the benefit gala for Winnie’s new studio isn’t it!?” Sol looks stricken for a moment.

“Don’t worry Sol, I’ll send your best to Winnie and Martina LaRenta—they know you’re working the Dubois picture,” I assure him.

“I’m surprised you’re going if Jules and Magnus are already going, you hate going to this kind of stuff.” Sol laughs, taking a moment to stop over and help me tie my bow tie.

“Awards shows, galas, schmooze-a-thons…” Sol trails off. It’s almost as if I can see the gears turning in that beautiful blond head of his.

“Wait a minute…” Sol’s eyes widen.

“Isn’t tonight your date with Daphne?”

I flash him a debonair grin.

“I may be totally over all of this kind of shit, but Daphne seems to be absolutely enthralled with the idea of supper and dancing in black tie with a bunch of Hollywood elite.”

Sol lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re right. She’s probably going to lose her shit over it. Just try not to make doom and gloom commentary the whole time like you do with me—let her enjoy it.”

I square my shoulders and look down at Sol, who doesn’t wither under my attempt at intimidation.

“Don’t give me that look Cos, you know what I’m talking about!”

“Give me a little credit, Sol. I’m not going to be a total asshole tonight if I can help it.”

I pull my wireframe glasses from my face, moving down the narrow hallway to the bathroom to apply my contacts. Sol follows me, leaning casually in the doorframe. I can see his reflection in the bathroom mirror as I ready my saline solution.

“So, is the gala your gift?” Sol prys as casually as possible.

I bristle more than a little at this.

“Contrary to popular belief,” I begin—my tone salty and petulant even to my ears, but I cannot stop myself. “I want to make as good of an impression on Daphne as the rest of you. I just haven’t factored a property, a vintage car, or a horny loophole into my wooing schedule,” I snip.

Sol, familiar with my moody bullshit, has the good grace to laugh at me.

“Alright then, keep your secrets.” He shakes his head at me before he steals a kiss from my lips.

“I’ll text you when I get into the hotel. Good Luck tonight.” He gives me a few pats on the chest, right over my heart. I steal a kiss from him before he disappears through the bathroom doorway.

I’m going to need all the luck I can get.

When the limo pulls into the drive at Tern’s Nest, Magnus’ preposterous silver Rolls Royce Phantom is casually parked beside Daphne’s new pink Cadillac. I can see the driver, Mr. Wagner himself, in a white dinner jacket and black tie. Even from here, he looks like the sexy villain in a spy movie, leaning out over the deck railing and looking out to sea with a spliff in his hand.

He must hear the wheels on the gravel in the drive, because he turns his head, to look eerily directly at me through the tinted window of the limousine. Magnus offers a crisp wave, then turns back to the ocean.