Noah stared at Adam with an expression that suggested the President had suddenly sprouted a second head right there on his pillow.
His eyes were wide, blinking in sheer disbelief as he processed the order Adam had just given.
It was one thing to be protective, but this was venturing into the territory of the absurd.
"Adam, what are you even thinking?" Noah asked, his voice rising in pitch as his frustration grew.
"How can you possibly ask Mrs. Damson to do that? She is an Omega, and a middle-aged one at that. She isn't a weightlifter, Adam. She's the housekeeper!"
Adam didn't look the least bit sheepish.
Instead, he met Noah's gaze with a look of feigned philosophical depth, leaning back against his headboard.
"And what exactly is wrong with being an Omega, Noah? Or with being middle-aged? If I didn't believe in true equality, do you think I would have hired Mrs. Damson to run this entire household in the first place?"
