29. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lana
T his can’t be happening. I’m alone in my office with another hot guy I absolutely can’t have, and I’m too damn mad about it to think about getting any work done.
I should cut my losses and go to bed, but I’m halfway afraid he’ll insist on staying inside my suite once we get there, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
He might be Ezra’s mate, but he’s also a stranger.
I’ve barely known him for three minutes and I’m already regretting letting him into the building.
“You do whatever you need to do. I won’t disturb you.” He moves over to the door and leans against the wall.
“You’re disturbing me by being in here,” I mutter, as I sit back down and attempt to concentrate.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to work on my speech right now.
I open an internet tab instead and double check Erika’s file to get her clothing sizes.
If I have to sit here with a moody Alpha distracting me, I can at least order my new receptionist some normal clothes she can feel comfortable in while she’s at work.
It’s an activity I haven’t done for myself in a while, and it’s kind of fun to shop for someone else.
Erika seems to favor color over monochromes, so I make sure I don’t only order her basic black and white items. I add a few cute sweaters in pretty colors that I’m sure she likes.
Once I have a week’s worth of complete outfits in my basket, I take my keys out of my pocket and open the top drawer of my desk to grab the company credit card.
One of the first things I had to do when I took over was get the card changed into my name.
Neither of Geraldine’s predecessors bothered to do this, so it was still in her name, and it’s not like Geraldine was a nobody. Everyone knew who she was, and as far as everyone knew, she was killed by Frank Palmer, the world’s most prolific serial killer.
It was kind of a pain in the ass to get it changed over, but I’m glad I did it.
I feel a little more relaxed by the time I put the card back and lock the drawer.
One less thing on my list, and I made the purchase in time to secure next day delivery, so Erika won’t have to wait too long for her new work wardrobe.
It puts a smile on my lips.
It’s a bit easier to move onto the less fun stuff afterward, and I even start to forget about the blonde hunk in black leather looming next to the door as if he’s ready to tackle anyone who knocks.
Chances of a visitor at this time of night are low.
The Omegas will be in their suites, the day staff have gone home, or to their suites, and the one scheduled visitor that I know about will be processed and let into the building by the security staff. So, I’m not expecting anyone.
My guest in black leather is in for a slow night.
Serves him right for pulling Pete off the assignment.
That decision made no sense.
He’s obviously just an asshole.
A lot of Alphas tend toward that kind of behavior.
It’s a stereotype for a reason, and his picture could be next to Alpha-hole in the dictionary.
Of course, it could also be next to hot, and sexy, and basically any other physically pleasing attribute.
Yeah, he’s a walking, talking stereotype.
It bugs the crap out of me that I have to put up with him in my office while I’m already kind of horny and finding it practically impossible to concentrate.
If I were an Omega, I’d think I was going into heat.
I sit back in my chair and try to figure out which of my tasks are the most urgent, because it’s easier than picking one and starting it.
I’ll need a calculator for the accounts stuff, but it’s not taxing on my brain, it’s just kind of boring and I’ll have to make double sure the calculations are correct before I sign off on the sheets.
It’s simpler than working on my speech, for sure.
I’m looking for my calculator when there’s a knock on the door.
I look up and find Owen’s gaze on me.
He raises an eyebrow, and I shrug.
I have no idea who it is, or what they’re here for.
He pulls on a scowl as he yanks the door open.
I recognize the skinny girl who’s standing there as kitchen staff immediately.
It’s obvious by the apron she’s wearing over her plain black clothing.
She looks up at Owen, and I hear the silverware shaking on her tray.
I get up and move swiftly toward the door.
“Hi Marianne,” I greet her quickly, hoping to dispel the shock Owen clearly gave her. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, um …” She looks past Owen. “Dr. Clarke called the kitchen and ordered a roast dinner for you, and your guest. He said you might tell me you’re not hungry, but that I should leave the food anyway.”
I can’t help the smile that springs to my lips. “Dr. Clarke did this?”
She nods. “Um, can I bring it in? The tray’s kind of heavy …”
Owen takes it out of her hands. “You can go. Thanks.”
That last word is given grudgingly, but at least he gave it.
He kicks the door closed and sets the tray down on the coffee table.
“Did you have to do that?” I ask, folding my arms under my chest.
He looks up at me. “Do what?”
“You scared Marianne, and it was rude to kick the door closed like that.”
He sighs. “I’m only here to make sure nothing happens to you.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, whether you’re here or not.”
“So, you don’t think there’s a threat to your safety?”
“I refuse to believe that anyone in this building means me any harm.”
“Pete seems to think one of the security guys is sketchy. He has good instincts when it comes to people. You think he’s wrong?”
“I think I’ve known everyone here for a long time. I’m not saying Pete isn’t good at his job. I’m just saying I don’t believe anyone who works here would hurt me.”
He looks at the covered plates on the coffee table. “You know everyone who works here that well? Including the kitchen staff?”
“I do,” I admit, moving over to the table and removing one of the lids.
The food smells amazing, and it looks divine.
Roast beef in gravy, creamy mashed potatoes, and a side of roasted vegetables.
It’s the kind of dinner my mother always made on a Sunday when I was a kid.
I’ve been out of my mom’s house for close to nine years, and I’m pretty sure my last Sunday at my childhood home was the last time I ever ate a roast dinner.
I sit down on the couch and pick up a fork.
I can feel Owen’s gaze on me.
I half expect him to tell me not to eat it.
He doesn’t say a word.
So, I start to eat, trying a tiny bit of the meat with the potatoes.
Oh my God.
I forgot how incredible real, hot, filling food could taste.
I’ve spent so long trying to train myself to like soups and salads that this is like a slice of heaven.
I eat a little more and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips.
“That good is it?” Owen asks, sounding vaguely amused.
He kneels down at the side of the coffee table and lifts the lid on the second plate.
I pause eating to watch him.
He really doesn’t look like the kind to care too much about food.
But I can tell he’s impressed when he takes a bite of the meat.
“We have a couple of world class chefs here,” I reveal.
He takes a few more bites before he puts the fork down and covers the plate again.
“Nothing but the best for the elite,” he mutters.
He gets back to his feet, brushing off his jeans.
“That was how this place was set up,” I admit, as I spear a piece of carrot with my fork. “Things are going to be very different soon, but real change takes time, and I don’t want to lose any of the staff if I can help it.”
He gives me a bemused glance before he moves back over to the side of the door.
It feels like the conversation is over, but a few seconds later, he asks, “How did you get this job?”
“Well, I worked on reception for years. Learned everything I could about every department, and I pretty much waited around for an opportunity I wasn’t sure I’d ever get. Then, Geraldine died, her first appointed successor went missing, and the second person they tried to replace her with was fired after she broke some rules, which made the board look like idiots. They knew they needed to cover the role quickly and I was right there, with the knowledge they needed the new head of administration to have. They trusted me. I let them. Then, I got in and I started changing the rules to better protect the Omegas.”
It's sort of how it happened. I can’t say I did everything I did in the hopes of becoming the head of the school, but I did start to hope I might one day get that shot after I began to realize everything wasn’t quite as it seemed on the surface.
“What changes have you made, exactly?”
Now, he sounds curious.
“Well, we’re no longer donor funded. I had us registered as a real school so we would qualify for government funding, and I’m having the class schedules inspected and modified so we can teach the Omegas real life skills and how to cope with the things that make them different, instead of teaching them which lipstick suits their skin tone, and how to behave at a party.”
He sucks in a breath. “You’re no longer … How in the hell are you managing that? This place … the donors were milked for millions …”
“And as those amounts were donations, they’re not entitled to ask for any of it back.”
“Are you telling me you have a pot of cash those assholes can’t touch?”
“The academy does, yes. I intend to use it to keep the staff employed regardless of how long it takes for any government funding to come through.”
“What about the parents of the Omegas you’ve got here? Aren’t they pulling their kids out of school and asking for their money back?”
“Not so far. Everyone’s been informed of the changes, and they know more information will be forthcoming. If anyone wants to remove an Omega from the academy, I’ll be speaking with the Omega to make sure it’s also her choice to leave before I sign off on any of that.”
“Do they know you’re their guardian while they’re here?”
“I didn’t realize that wasn’t clear, but I intend to make sure they know that when I make a speech to the entire student body on Friday.”
Hopefully, I’ll actually have the speech ready to go on Friday.
At this point, it’s starting to feel like I might never be finished.
“Huh,” he mutters.
He walked in with an attitude, and he probably had some assumptions about what he was going to find. A few weeks ago, those assumptions would have been correct. I’ve done a lot in a short space of time. It doesn’t always feel like that when I look at everything that still needs to be done, but it’s good to have that reminder.
I take one last bite of the delicious food, and I put the lid back on the plate.
“What are you doing?” Owen asks as I start to get up.
“I’m getting back to work.”
“Like hell. You barely touched that food.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re one to talk. You took three bites of the roast before you decided you were finished.”
“That’s because I need to stay sharp. You need to eat properly.” He waves a hand at the coffee table. “Sit back down and finish your dinner, or I’ll tell Ezra you didn’t appreciate his thoughtful gesture.”
I sit back down, but I feel like telling him where to go.
The only reason I don’t is because I am actually still hungry.
One roast dinner won’t derail everything.
I’ll be back to soups and salads and skipping meals for a coffee tomorrow.
“Fine, I’ll eat,” I agree, glowering over at him. “But I’m doing this because Ezra sent it to me, not because you told me to, so don’t even think about counting this as a win.”
He shrugs. “Do what you want. I’m barely even here.”
My annoyance starts to turn in anger as I eat.
This pack is seriously infuriating.
I can’t wait until they leave.