2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Orlando

O rlando ended the call and heaved a sigh. Dr. Gardiner’s request was both a relief and a stressor. As bittersweet as most things these days.

He took a moment to massage his temples before checking the time. Deciding he could call it a day and finish his ruminations during the drive home, Orlando rose and gathered his things. Gabriel and Luke should already be home when he got there.

Where else would they be? Orlando was the only member of the pack who left the farm with any regularity lately. Luke was practically a hermit and Gabe wasn’t much better, only venturing out on his odd little artistic expeditions, which were just as likely to take him farther from civilization than nearer. Aside from their staff, his packmates rarely saw anyone but each other.

Which is why Orlando needed to be ready for an argument. Taking on a temporary omega would shake up their routine. It had been nearly a year since the last time they’d been selected, and Orlando could see the corresponding change in his packmates. Though neither would admit it, they’d sank back into their grief and depression over the last few months.

Admittedly, Orlando had been skeptical the first time Pack Rossi volunteered as temporary alphas. He’d been sure his instincts wouldn’t allow him to touch another woman. Worse, he worried they would and then he’d be disloyal to Evelyn’s memory.

Orlando shut his briefcase with a bit more force than necessary. He could hear his therapist chiding him for the thought. Evie would understand. Evie wouldn’t want them to be alone after all these years.

Nonetheless, he’d had reservations. But the process had gone remarkably smoothly. Though he’d felt no compulsion to claim her, he’d enjoyed caring for Tasha, their first temporary omega. His pack helped her through her heat, soothing their own caretaking needs in the process, and they’d all felt better for months. They’d served two omegas over the last five years, supporting multiple heats for both women. Tasha and Kendall had since joined their own packs and Orlando kept in touch enough to know they were each doing well and seemed happy.

“Good night, Mr. Rossi,” his assistant said cheerfully as Orlando strode from his office. “Will you be working remotely tomorrow? All of your meetings are virtual.”

“Indeed, I will,” Orlando replied, pausing by the younger alpha’s desk. “See if you can clear Monday as well. We’ll be meeting with a potential temporary omega, and I would rather not be distracted.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened slightly, but he otherwise kept his expression neutral. He’d been with Orlando long enough to know a fair bit about Pack Rossi’s personal life but had enough sense to keep his opinions to himself. Orlando suspected that, like many of their well-meaning employees, his assistant hoped that one of the pack’s temporary arrangements might turn into something permanent. Orlando expected Isaiah and his colleagues would be disappointed. He couldn’t imagine Pack Rossi bonding an omega again.

“Of course, Mr. Rossi, I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Isaiah replied brightly, opening Orlando’s calendar on one of his massive computer screens. “I’ll move your meeting with the commercial property management team to Wednesday and I can cover the Bradshaw presentation. Mr. Wilder’s new poultry feeder should be delivered Monday, but I’ll take care of it. I can arrange for any deliveries to be handled by betas for the next few months, just in case.”

Orlando nodded. He appreciated that he didn’t have to explain every little detail to Isaiah. The kid usually intuited what was needed. He was smart and ambitious, traits Orlando valued. He knew full well that Isaiah had been chomping at the bit to handle the Bradshaw presentation, which is why he’d scheduled the omega appointment for Monday. He wanted Isaiah to have the chance to prove himself and had been increasingly giving the assistant more responsibility. It could be risky taking an alpha on as an assistant—it wasn’t in their nature to take orders or submit—but when it worked, it worked remarkably well. Isaiah would inevitably climb the ladder because he knew that being a quality assistant to the CEO pretty much guaranteed career advancement opportunities.

At fifty-one, Orlando was thinking about retirement more and more. It was nice to have someone around he might trust to keep their company moving forward when he took on a less active role. Luke had retired to revive his family farm shortly after Evelyn’s passing, and Gabriel…well, Gabe just wasn’t business minded. They’d expected to have children of their own to pass the company to, but that hadn’t been in the cards. Thus, it was up to Orlando to deal with the practicalities.

It hadn’t been the same running the business without Luke. Back when they were full of fire and innovation, dominating the real estate world while Evie managed their art galleries and Gabe filled them with his creations, Orlando would’ve said he’d never retire. Now, though, he just wanted to spend more time enjoying the fruits of their labor. He’d find someone worthy to pass the baton to, and that someone might be his assistant.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He should at least wait until after the Bradshaw presentation before deciding to take Isaiah on more seriously as a protégé. He certainly had other things to worry about tonight.

Orlando finished up with Isaiah quickly and got on the road. Somehow, the hour-long ride from downtown Smyrna City to the Wilder farm wasn’t long enough for him to come up with a nice way to tell his packmates they were taking on the temporary omega because he couldn’t abide much more of their moping. Oh well. He hadn’t gotten this far in life without having more than his fair share of tough conversations.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Luke was first to protest. He scowled across the dining room table, his midnight blue eyes glinting dangerously. Despite his polite upbringing, Luke Wyatt Wilder was the surliest damn person Orlando had ever met. He’d intimidated many a business opponent with his cocky menace, but his packmates knew that his bark was far worse than his bite.

“Christ, Lando, we don’t have time to take on another omega right now!” Luke crossed his arms over his broad chest and fixed Orlando with a stubborn glare. “And I’ve still got a fuck ton of chores left to do before bed, so let’s make this fight quick.”

“We can do this the easy way, or we can argue all night, Luke Wyatt,” Orlando drawled in a tone most people feared. “Either way, we’ll be meeting the new omega on Monday. Now do you want to waste my time, or can you resist your inherent need to be a jackass?”

“We all know he’s going to choose jackassery every time,” Gabriel interjected, grinning like the carefree kid who used to bug the hell out of them when they were teens.

Orlando hadn’t seen that grin much over the last decade. He missed it. When Gabe’s older brother—Orlando’s best friend—died twenty-five years ago, Orlando had naturally stepped into his role. Though Gabe was seven years his junior, he’d fit into Orlando’s pack perfectly, providing a nice balance between Luke’s hot temper and Orlando’s cool cunning. He was the heart of Pack Rossi—a role he used to share with Evie.

No wonder he didn’t smile as much as he used to. Evie had helped Gabriel through his grief over his brother’s death. Thirteen years later, she’d been taken from them too. The poor kid had been a widower before his thirty-fifth birthday. It was a raw deal.

“Why don’t you give us the highlights of the speech you prepped in the car so we can decide how long to argue?” Gabriel asked, his grin shifting into a smirk.

Orlando gave a longsuffering sigh. “I have several strong points with extensive supporting evidence. Would you like the medical, financial, or emotional version?

Luke glowered. “Single alphas die sooner, are more prone to a scary list of physical ailments, experience more anxiety and depression, and a fuck ton of other problems. We know that, asshole. Doc Gardiner gave us the same training she gave you, Lando the Great and Goddamn Powerful. But we’re healthy as horses—it’s why we qualify to be temp alphas at all. The medical issues add up financially, but we have more money than God, so I don’t give a shit about that argument. I guess you better try the emotional angle, genius.”

Orlando steepled his fingers and gave his packmates his frankest stare. “We are not okay , and you both know it. We agreed that moving out of the city was for the best, but it’s allowed you to withdraw from the world. The temporary omegas cheer us all up, and it’s been too long since we’ve tended one. You’ve been wallowing and you need to get laid. I don’t enjoy seeing you unhappy, so for me you’re going to give the new temporary omega a chance and you’re going to make appointments with your therapists.”

He waited, letting his words hang in the air for a long moment. As much as he might enjoy their verbal sparring, Orlando loved his packmates deeply. Their unhappiness felt like a personal failure, one he simply couldn’t allow.

“We have to start living again,” he added quietly. “You know Evie wouldn’t want this for us.”

Both of his packmates winced at the sound of their omega’s name. More evidence of their unmanaged grief. After nearly a decade, they should be able to speak of her without such obvious pain. They should be able to laugh over the many beautiful memories, while still finding happiness in the present.

“Nobody says get laid anymore, Grandpa Rossi. And I only need one therapist, so if you don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself from your office now,” Luke groused, standing to leave. “I’ll make the damn appointment and meet the damn omega if you stop looking at me like I pissed in your cornflakes. Good night, assholes.”

“Good night, jackass,” Gabriel replied cheerfully. When Luke had gone, he turned back to Orlando, still smirking. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, Lando. You do know I’m forty-four years old, right?”

Orlando raised his eyebrows innocently. Of course, he knew that Gabe was a grown ass man—the salt and pepper hair and beard he sported made it painfully clear they were all far from the pretty young things they’d once been—but he couldn’t help seeing the younger alpha as that goofy, artsy kid he’d met so long ago.

“I didn’t single anyone out.” Orlando shrugged.

Gabriel grinned, obviously not buying it. “I already made an appointment for next week. I knew I was struggling, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until I tried to paint the other day. The colors were all wrong—muted, somehow, like life has been. But I don’t think the sadness is the same as before. It feels kind of like the last throes of a storm. I’m so close to being out of the rain, but I’m also so used to it that I’m kind of scared I’ve forgotten how to be dry. You know?”

Orlando nodded. He did know. He would never phrase it in such flowery metaphorical language, but that was why he was the businessman and not the artist. Another way Gabriel neatly counterbalanced he and Luke.

Gabriel stood to leave, placing a hand on Orlando’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. All of us. Luke will come along kicking and screaming, but he’ll still get there. You’re making the right decisions, Lando. Our problems aren’t a reflection on your leadership. Life just sucks sometimes. It’s no one’s fault.”

Orlando swallowed, covering Gabe’s hand with his for a moment. His packmate had a unique way of seeing through to the truth of a thing. His artistic eye had uncovered solutions over the years that neither Orlando nor Luke ever could’ve. He really was the heart of Pack Rossi.

“And people still say get laid . Mostly old people, but still.” Gabriel grinned boyishly, the sight of it warming Orlando’s heart. He strolled from the room, leaving Orlando massaging his temples again, but smiling.

He went to bed that night feeling cautiously optimistic.