Page 56 of For What It's Worth
He maneuvered around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and pans. “I think I’ll make a lasagna for dinner. It will take some time, but while it’s cooking, I’ll get you a snack.”
It was strange to be on the receiving end of an alpha so different than my bonded one. When Jen took care of my needs, he did it as if pleasing me made him happy. Jenson liked to make himself useful, which explained why he would’ve wanted to be a teacher. That same need to help was the basis of our relationship.
But Enzo took care of me however he wanted. He was an alpha that would do what he needed to keep me happy regardless of what others might’ve thought or even whether he was happy. It was a heady feeling and one I had to be careful not to abuse.
And then there was Aidan. Sweet Aidan who needed to be needed and included. Aiden who used our relationship to fill himself up with love. Which was good because I had endless love to give.
Beta sex classes taught me that alphas were an aggressive, sexually active designation. Honestly, I would’ve guessed the class was taught in a way to dissuade betas from wanting to be in a relationship with other designations. Did it matter that I should have never taken those classes? Nope. All that toxic bullshit was rooted deep in my being. Which was why I was using all three of my alphas to make me feel safe, treasured, and important.
“Did you learn to cook by yourself?” I asked, noticing he hadn’t pulled out his phone or a cookbook when he measured ingredients.
“My mamma taught me.”
“Is she still alive?”
“She is. She lives in Italy with the rest of my family. Once we bond, I’m sure she’ll be begging for us to make a trip out there for you to meet her.”
“How come you’re here?”
“You don’t want me here, Orsetta?”
Embarrassment turned my entire face red if the heat in my cheeks was any indication. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, Enzo, really. I was just wondering what brought you here. Not that I’m not thrilled you’re here, by the way. Because I am, if that’s not clear. Like, really happy you’re here.”
Thankfully, Enzo put an end to my rambling apology with a large hand on my thigh. The amusement on his face enough to get me to glare at the alpha.
“I came here when I was about thirteen,” Enzo said. “My mother was born in America, and my father surprised the whole family with a trip here over summer so my mother could see her parents. We were supposed to go back for Ferragosto, but I did not wish to return to Turin.”
The realization he hadn’t said, ‘return home’, had me smiling. Just because he was born in Italy didn’t make it his home. This was his home. Here. With me.
“I asked my mamma if I could stay with my nonni and she said yes.” Enzo pulled his hand away to throw things into the pan over the stove. He kept glancing at me, a little towel on his shoulder, as he told his story. “It helped that my father has his heir, Alonzo Junior, and my mamma has her little girl, Viola. Being the middle child has its advantages.”
I nodded in agreement even though—to my knowledge—I was an only child. “So you stayed with your…”
“Nonni,” he said, supplying the word for me.
“Nonni. And then you met Aidan and Jenson?”
He nodded, but it was Jenson that said, “Yes, he did.”
“Curriculum in Italy is different, and our teacher thought I could use the extra help. She asked Jen to help me out.”
Jen handed me a large shirt that surprisingly smelled of Aidan and a pair of underwear. To my shock, I didn’t blush at Jen touching my underwear—he must have gone out to get my luggage without me noticing.
My alpha helped me off the counter and said, “Little did she know, Enzo was way beyond what we were learning in class. He just needed a little review since he’d done our lessons years ago. And then he was good to go.”
After getting dressed, I looked down at my bare legs, the dark stubble telling me I needed to shave. Soon. As if to hit on that point, Jen lifted me back up to sit on the island counter and rubbed his hand up and down my calf. Even when I crossed my legs over one another to try and sneak my legs away, he still managed to rub the stubble. When I glanced up to see if he was disgusted, he simply winked. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Where’s Aidan?” I asked.
“On the phone,” Jen said.
“With who?”
Instead of answering, Jen looked past me to Enzo, the two having a silent conversation that would annoy me if worst case scenarios hadn’t started running through my thoughts of Aidan on the phone with someone he was attracted to. He’d gotten himself off earlier, but I doubted he was too pleased about having to use his hand. The guilt of not pleasing Aidan sexually overpowered any claim I might’ve thought I had on him—because at that point, all we had were words. That we might one day bond. But maybe he needed something before then. Someone before then.
“Shit. Jen.” Enzo stopped whatever he was working on, maybe putting sauce in some tin, and grabbed my face with both of his large hands. His pine tree scent was mingling with the spices he was working with, but it didn’t take away from how comforting his scent was. “Orsetta, don’t cry. Tell us what’s wrong, and we’ll fix it. Are you hurt? Should we take you to the hospital? Jen, tell me if she’s hurt.”
“She’s not hurt. Just feeling … rejected.”