2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Lana

O ne sip of coffee, three phone calls, and four dozen fresh, scathing emails from parents: all condensed into the thirty-six minutes I haven’t even officially been at work.

By the time the clock officially hits nine a.m., I force myself to ignore the flurry of undoubtedly angry responses to the emails I just sent, turning away from the screen and picking up my mug, only to discover my coffee is stone-cold.

The internal debate over whether to nuke it in the nearest microwave or accept that my caffeine hit gets to make me grimace with every sip takes about five seconds of my valuable time.

I slip my feet back into my low-heeled pumps while I gather the energy needed to walk over to the staff room inside our newly opened medical wing.

After last month’s crazy intake of abused Omegas in urgent need of medical attention, and the recent loss of three-quarters of our security staff, it’s been all systems go, 24-7, at Goldcrest.

It doesn’t help that the changes I’ve been making haven’t been going down well with our current benefactors. Turns out rich assholes don’t like being told their money can’t buy them whatever the hell they want.

Who would have guessed?

Too bad for them, the new head administrator of Goldcrest Academy can’t be bought.

The Omegas here are under my care now, and I won’t let them down like their predecessors did.

I’ve seen what this place was like before. I know how it can be turned around.

It’s not an easy job, but I’m determined.

I’m just also kind of tired.

Sighing, I get to my feet.

The landline phone starts to ring again, and I wince at the handset.

I know if I pick up the receiver, I won’t make it to the staff room.

That’s not happening today.

Last week was insane. Two whole days passed where I actually forgot to eat.

That’s crazy, and it’s not sustainable.

I divert the call to the answering machine system, smiling wryly as I remember I still need to hire my own replacement. It’s been so busy I don’t see myself finding the time to train someone, but it would definitely lighten my load if I had someone to help screen calls.

“It’s on my list,” I assure myself out loud as I walk around the desk and head out of the office with my mug of cold coffee.

Unfortunately, that list has done nothing but grow since I stepped into my new position as head of the academy, and last month’s big emergency intake did nothing to help.

The entrance hall is empty, reception desk abandoned.

If I didn’t know any better, I might assume the whole place had been abandoned.

The space is silent and my footsteps echo across the tiled floor loudly.

My office is at the front of the building, on the left, the Omega suites are at the back of the building, and the new makeshift hospital is housed in the previously underused right wing of the academy, where the medical staff used to run health checks on the Omegas.

If the building plans ever stated what this wing was meant to be used for, someone lost them a long time ago. Currently, I have plans to overhaul the wing to accommodate a permanent medical facility, but that’s presently somewhere near the bottom of my arm’s length list of tasks.

Right now, I’m off-list.

The sounds of voices and machines float out into the corridor as I push open the door that leads into the new medical wing. A nurse with a medication tray gives me a smile and a nod as she passes on her rounds.

I smile back as I move toward the staff room.

The door has been wedged open like usual.

Our doctors really don’t like to waste any time.

I step inside and head straight to the microwave.

I’m standing there, waiting for my coffee to reheat when I feel someone behind me.

Being around Alphas didn’t seem so difficult before these last few weeks.

I’ve met countless men who fall into that category, and while their presence is always noticeably different, I can’t say it’s ever really affected me.

Until I met Ezra Clarke.

His energy seems to fill up the whole room, like it’s determined to steal my dignity and my breath all at the same time.

I concentrate on my breathing, and steel myself for the inevitable shock of lust that’s already making my skin tingle in anticipation as I get ready to give the handsome doctor a simple greeting.

“Lana …” he murmurs.

The microwave beeps, and I ignore it to turn and smile at him.

“Hi, Ezra. I’m just grabbing a caffeine fix,” I admit, as my gaze moves from his light hazel eyes to the three-days worth of stubble he’s currently sporting on his jawline.

He rubs at his chin as if he’s just noticing it.

He’s exactly the kind of guy to ignore personal preferences when other things are way more important. The dedication he’s shown these last few weeks has been incredible.

It shouldn’t feel so strange to be this attracted to the guy.

He’s handsome and he saves lives for a living.

Who wouldn’t be interested?

Of course, I always manage to say or do something cringe in front of him, and he never seems to know what to say to me. I’m probably making him feel awkward, too, always staring at him like he’s a particularly juicy piece of meat I’d like to get my teeth into.

I turn back to the microwave because he’s not saying anything.

I need to stick to my plan to grab my warmed coffee and get back to my desk.

He clears his throat. “I was hoping to speak to you.”

Okay, that’s new.

Maybe this is where he tells me I’ve been drooling over him like a moron, and he feels like he’s being sexually objectified in the workplace.

I take my coffee out of the microwave, and I look back at him before I respond.

“Well, I have a few minutes while I drink my coffee, so would you rather talk here, or somewhere more private?” I’m proud of myself for sounding professional, even if my last suggestion is hanging on the air, making me imagine all kinds of sexy scenarios.

“Here is fine,” he admits, with a wry smile. “I have to get back to patient check-ups in a few.”

“Of course.” I take a tentative sip of my coffee. It’s hot, but it’s not too hot, and I manage not to dribble or drip, so I’m doing good so far. I give him an encouraging smile. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now,” he starts.

God, that sounds ominous.

I can’t help but cringe at the thought of having to add something else onto my ever-growing list of things that need to be done, but I know now he’s about to ask for something, and he’s in charge of everything in this medical wing. He’s the one who keeps it all running smoothly.

I can’t afford to lose him.

Whatever he wants, it’s going to have to skip to the front of the line.

“And I don’t want to add to your troubles …” he goes on.

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me you have to leave!” I blurt, feeling my face warm at the outburst.

If he goes, there’s no way I’ll be able to replace him.

He’s been too damn perfect.

The thought of losing him ties my stomach up in knots.

“Sorry, that sounded dramatic,” I add, trying to cover my horror with a moment of levity. “I’ve barely had a sip of coffee this morning. I’m a complete drama queen before caffeine.”

He laughs lightly at the weird rhyming joke, even though it’s not the slightest bit funny.

“I get it. Must be tough to run this place.”

“It’s not exactly a walk in the park,” I admit. “I’d hate to lose your expertise. I know the contract is temporary and that’s not ideal, but if there’s anything I can do to keep you from moving on to something else, just name it.”

I hold my breath while I wait for him to give me the bad news.

He’s mulling over what I’ve said, I think, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about …” he starts, his voice low, making me move slightly closer to avoid missing whatever he’s about to say.

He’s cut off by the harsh, unbelievably loud zing of an incoming Tannoy announcement.

The unexpected sound makes me jump on the spot, which makes me spill a good third of my coffee onto my hands and the floor between us.

I glance back up, and discover that, thankfully, not a drop landed on him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I murmur, as I take a couple steps away from him to set the mug down on the counter by the sink.

“Dr. Clarke to private room number nine immediately please. Patient emergency.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, sounds like I have to go.”

“Of course.”

A patient needs him, and he’s already rushing to their side.

Hopefully, he’ll stay too busy to quit on me.

I wash my hands, and then I grab a towel to clean up the mess on the floor.

Once I’m done cleaning up, I tip the rest of the coffee down the sink and rinse out my mug.

Whatever Dr. Clarke wanted to talk to me about will have to wait.

It’s time I got back to work.