Appetite for an Alpha (Omega Quadrant #4)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

A few years ago…

P ierce Lambeau strode through the packed dining room, the king of his castle, assessing his team. They were finally back to right after he’d mistakenly hired a general manager who’d promised a lot and delivered little. Service had suffered. Regular guests had complained. Sales had slipped. All because he’d wanted the chance to get a life of his own outside the restaurant. Six months was all it took for him to fire the GM and reassert control.

Lambeau’s restaurant had been—and was once again—a well-oiled, fine-dining machine thanks to decades of hard work and perseverance—that and a well-trained, well-paid staff.

It felt good being back in the saddle, though he had decided to share a few responsibilities with his ma?tre d’ to free himself a little. It had taken a few weeks to get a couple of the new hires trained correctly, and the rest of the team back up to standard, but otherwise, all was right in his world.

He stopped at a few tables here and there, checking in with regulars and new guests alike, ensuring their service and the food had exceeded expectation. The reviews were glowing. He smiled to himself, pleased with another flawless service after their recent stumble.

But it wasn’t completely flawless.

Pierce noticed one of his runners taking an order. He frowned and quickly excused himself from the guest he’d been speaking with.

Crossing the dining room, he stopped the employee with a gentle hand and lowly murmured, “Why are you taking an order? You haven’t been trained for that.”

The runner, Eli, lifted his gaze, wide-eyed. “I was… just helping.”

“Whose table is that?” He didn’t have to ask. He knew. Their well-oiled, fine-dining machine had one cog that had never quite fit. “Let me guess. Brett.”

Eli released a pent-up breath. “Yes.”

“Why isn’t he taking the order for his table?”

“He has a VIP who’s been a bit demanding tonight. I was asked to pitch in on one table.”

“Brett wasn’t scheduled for a VIP service tonight.” As far as Pierce knew, all three private dining rooms lay empty that night.

“Max said it was a last-minute guest, and that Brett was personally requested.” Eli showed Pierce the ticket he’d written up. “I did it correctly. See? I think I’m ready to move up, Pierce.”

“We can discuss that later,” Pierce said. He scanned the order, and it did appear to be written correctly. “Turn this in while I go find Brett. He can finish tonight’s service.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli muttered before heading for the pass.

Pierce paused at the ma?tre d’s station where Max hovered, making a notation in his log while carrying a bottle of their most expensive champagne. “We have a last-minute VIP table?”

“Yep.” Max, his ma?tre d’, lifted his gaze from the log and dropped his pencil. “I’ve got it handled.”

“Some communication would’ve been nice.”

Max lifted a brow. “Why have you been stuck in the kitchen most of the night?”

Pierce clenched his jaw. Lambeau’s was usually ‘by reservation only,’ but if they had the room, they’d seat a walk-in or two. Thanks to his ex-GM, reservations had been down. They’d had more than enough room on a slower Wednesday night for the curiously large flow of walk-in guests. Pierce had spent the bulk of the evening working the pass so their executive chef could move into the kitchen—which meant Max had been just as busy in the front of the house.

“I’m doing my job and part of the GM’s. I can’t always run to you with every little issue,” Max said.

“Are you saying what I’ve asked is too much?”

“No. I’m not Peter. I’ve been with you for five years. Either you trust me to do my job, or you don’t. I adjusted for the VIP request and got it covered. We’re good.”

“But Brett?” Pierce asked. “You are allowed to say no to a VIP, if the request is out of pocket.”

Max cut his eyes. “Out of pocket? Brett’s a decent server.”

“Except when he’s not.” Pierce sighed. “I’ll go check in up there.”

“Room one,” Max said before zipping away, wending through the many tables to deliver the bottle of champagne.

Pierce marched toward the staircase to the private VIP dining rooms, forcing a smile and greeting guests along the way as he imagined all the ways Brett could screw up. As soon as he turned the handle on VIP Room One, he found it locked.

Fuck me. What is Brett up to?

All hell flew into him. Fortunately, he had a key for the VIP suites on his ring and immediately opened the door—where he found Brett seated across from his guest.

In the nude.

Pierce froze, lips parting on a barely audible gasp. Heat filled his face—and other places. He clenched his jaws, hearing his heartbeat raging in his ears.

A war erupted within… anger and desire swirling like one big fireball in his gut.

Brett glanced up from the playing cards in his hands, wearing the guest’s necktie around his head. His sultry smile evaporated the second his gaze locked on Pierce. Brett’s mouth dropped open for a second, his flash of guilt proving the guy did have a conscience of sorts, but it was quickly gone. Pierce slammed the door closed before another guest got a peek at what was going on inside.

Pierce eyed their VIP, Councilman Grandville Beck, and then back to Brett—who appeared to be fighting a smile. A fucking smile. The urge to wrap both hands around the beta’s neck sang like sweet music in his veins. He approached slowly, trying to maintain control and not make a total ass of himself in front of the councilman. “What… is going on?” He’d wanted to add in the words the and fuck between what and is , but he’d somehow found the strength to edit himself given who their guest was.

“Just a fun little game of strip poker,” Grandville slurred, sounding more than a few drinks deep. “I’m winning, too.” He tossed in another chip for added measure. “I call.”

“Read them and weep,” Brett said, laying his cards down.

“You rascal,” Grandville said. He chuckled and began to slide off his suit jacket.

“Enough,” Pierce said, teeth clenched. He urged Grandville’s jacket back up the man’s meaty arms. “This isn’t the appropriate place for this.” Pierce glared at Brett. “Get your clothes on.”

Brett rose, and Pierce was glad to see the beta wasn’t completely naked. He still had on briefs and mismatched knee-high athletic socks. Pierce didn’t want to look, yet he couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling from head to toe and back again.

That survey of silky, smooth flesh didn’t escape Brett’s notice, either. His gaze never leaving Pierce’s, he tugged off the tie and handed it back to Grandville, his sly grin speaking volumes. “Pierce is no fun, hmm, Grandy?”

“Nope,” Grandville said with a snicker. “No fun at all.”

“We were almost done anyway,” Brett murmured, cocking his head to the side.

Clearly. You’re almost naked.

Brett hooked his thumb under the waistband of his briefs and tugged them out a bit, baring another little scrap of bare flesh Pierce didn’t want to stare at—yet that’s exactly where his eyes went. “And these weren’t coming off, by the way.”

Pierce tried to drag his gaze away and failed. The worst part? Brett noticed that, too.

“I was hoping I might get you to change your mind about that—if I’d had a chance to win a few more times maybe they could’ve joined the rest of your clothes,” Grandville slurred, sliding his tie over his head and back into place.

“You know the rules, Grandy. The underwear stays on.”

You know the rules? Had other games of strip poker—or worse—gone on right under his nose? Pierce nearly vibrated with anger watching the pair, more so at Brett’s usual laissez-faire attitude. He couldn’t control a customer, but he had every right to assume his staff would act professionally at all times. That bored, nonchalant look on Brett’s face was one Pierce had seen way too often.

He saw it in the dreams he shouldn’t have, too.

You’re fired. Say it. Tell him he’s fired. SAY IT! Pierce opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He met Brett’s gaze, furious with them both. Brett for being so dangerously dismissive, and himself for being incapable of firing the guy he never should’ve hired in the first place. Over the twenty years he’d operated the business, he’d fired plenty of people. He’d never had a problem firing someone before—it was business, not personal—and some of the ones he’d fired had done a fraction of what Brett did on a weekly basis.

Why couldn’t he part ways with Brett?

“Put… your… fucking clothes on,” Pierce scolded under his breath as he neared Brett.

Lifting his chin, Brett held Pierce’s stare. It was as if the beta was challenging him to look his fill. Pierce told himself not to fall into the trap, but his gaze dipped down all the same.

Brett’s face was exquisite, that Pierce knew. Of course, the entire package was even better. He was small for a beta; his body lean and lithe. Tanned, perfect skin over lightly toned muscles begged to be touched. Pierce’s cock thickened, only pissing himself off more.

When he lifted his gaze, the corners of Brett’s lips curled upward.

“Like what you see?” Brett whispered.

“Not particularly,” Pierce lied.

He turned away from the hurt in Brett’s eyes—almost sure it was fake—and focused on Grandville, who rose from the table and pulled out his wallet. “Old man, you know I can’t allow you to play strip poker in here with my employees. I could lose my license.”

“I’m on the province council,” Grandville garbled. “There’s no rules about this in the books.”

“It could be suggested that this is a…” Pierce clenched his jaw. “A strip club and that’s not what’s on my business license.”

Grandville scoffed. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, Pierce. I’ll ensure you’re not in any trouble because of me and your sweet little employee here.”

“Still,” Pierce persisted, attempting to be as firm as he could with a powerful, wealthy regular customer. “This can’t happen again.”

“The door was locked until you barged in. No one saw a thing,” Grandville said. He leaned closer to Pierce. “I nearly had those briefs off, too. He said he wouldn’t take them off, but my charm knows no bounds.”

Grandville pulled out a stack of bills and tossed them onto the check resting on the table. He smiled at Brett—who was finally getting dressed. “The rest is for you, sweet boy.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card, adding it to the stack. “And my number, in case you want to finish our game in private sometime soon.”

“We’ll see.” Brett smiled at the man and added a wink. “Thank you.”

Pierce growled.

Grandville straightened Pierce’s lapels, snagging his attention. “Don’t be mad at the boy, Pierce. He only did what I asked. I needed some cheering up. I haven’t had this much fun in a long, long time.”

Pierce forced a smile. “I’m glad you had an enjoyable evening, but you must know this won’t happen again.”

Grandville appeared to sober a bit. “You won’t fire him, will you?”

Pierce cringed inwardly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Grandville dusted something from Pierce’s jacket. “He should stay. I’d hate to report you to the Council for prostitution up here in your VIP dining rooms.”

“There’s no prostitution going on under my roof,” Pierce ground out.

“Yet here I was with an almost naked server in mine,” Grandville whispered, grinning broadly.

Pierce glared at Grandville.

“I’ll expect him here when I return next week for supper,” Grandville said. He turned to wave at Brett. “See you next week, sweetheart.”

“Later, Grandy. You didn’t drive, did you?” Brett asked, tugging on his pants.

“My driver’s waiting right outside. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“Good,” Brett said before walking closer to Grandville and giving the old man a fierce hug. “See you next week.”

Grandville departed with a wide smile on his face. As soon as the doors closed again, Pierce spun on Brett.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing?”

Brett finished buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt, avoiding Pierce’s red-hot gaze. “He wanted to play poker, so I obliged.”

“Poker isn’t the same as Strip Poker.” Pierce narrowed his eyes when Brett finally looked up. “You’re not Grandville’s usual server, either. Why did he request you?”

Brett dragged his tie over his head as he replied, “I’ve waited on him before.”

“When?”

“He joined the Hightowers as a last-minute guest a few months back. It was my table. Remember?”

Pierce calmed—but only a fraction. He did recall that night. He’d been worried Brett would do something asinine all night and had thought they’d made it without issue. He’d clearly been wrong. “You serve him one night—and then jump to stripping for the man?”

“I’ve been his server since that night,” Brett snapped.

“That was over six months ago. Why am I only hearing about this now?” The reason hit him. His ex-GM had neglected to tell him they’d tossed a lit match on an open container of gasoline. Grandville was a character and larger than life. The two of them didn’t need to be paired together.

“He requests me because I’m fun—unlike the rest of the people who work here.”

“From the sounds of it, you took advantage that night with the Hightowers and moved in on an old, wealthy alpha.” Pierce eyed the stack of bills lying atop the check. “Did you need a new sugar daddy?”

Rage burned in the depths of Brett’s narrowed eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

Pierce shook his head, sensing he’d struck a nerve. “You were nearly naked when I walked in. Why wouldn’t I assume the worst?”

“You know what? Fuck you, Pierce.” Brett stormed past him.

Instinctively, Pierce reached out and snagged Brett’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “We’re not done here. Unless, of course, that was your resignation.”

The thought of Brett leaving robbed the air from his lungs. For a man he supposedly wanted to fire, he was awfully possessive.

Brett lifted his gaze and watched Pierce closely through his thick, dark lashes. Anger burned in his brilliant blue eyes, but there was something else, too. That something else set Pierce ablaze. He struggled to breathe. His entire body hummed with a current of sexual need. Brett’s tongue peeked out, wetting his lips. Lips sweet enough to kiss.

Kiss him.

Brett neared him… or maybe it was the other way around. He wasn’t sure who’d moved. Maybe it had been the very earth he stood on, for all he knew. Pierce couldn’t look away from those dusky red lips, imagining what they tasted of. The rest of the world could go fuck off.

A hint of Brett’s spicy aftershave tickled at his nose, goose bumps skittering over his arms. It made him want to press his face against the space where neck met shoulder and inhale the man’s scent, memorizing it.

He leaned down a few inches more, ravenous.

Brett stepped back, breaking the spell. He glanced around nervously, unable to meet Pierce’s gaze. He’d never seen Brett appear uncomfortable. He didn’t like it.

Nor did he like that he was the cause.

“Are you firing me?” Brett asked, his voice small.

Pierce cleared his throat. He should, even with Grandville’s threat looming. “I haven’t decided yet.” A non-answer. Logic and need were at war within him, so what else could he say?

Awkward silence hung between them a few seconds.

“You took things too far tonight,” Pierce murmured. A thought returned to his mind. That night might not have been the only night. “How many times have you played strip poker— strip anything —with a guest?”

“It’s the first time,” Brett said, straightening his collar and tie. He shrugged, rolling his eyes. “The strip part, anyway. Grandy and I have played cards plenty of times.”

“Why am I struggling to believe that?”

Brett finally met his gaze again. “I’m not lying. Grandy’s asked before and I’ve always said no—but?—”

“But what?”

Brett almost looked shamed for a split second—until he lifted his chin, full of arrogance. “I want to go away for spring break. I knew Grandy’s tip would be a good one if I bared a little skin, so I figured, why not? The dining room is private. I could lock the door. I refused to take everything off and told him so from the beginning.”

“Do you hear yourself? You took your clothes off for one of my regular customers to get some extra cash for a trip—and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”

Brett scoffed. “He saw no more than he’d see at a beach.”

Anger roared to life again. “I could lose my business and/or my liquor license because of something like this. If that happened, everyone in this building would lose their income and possibly the ability to keep a roof over their families’ heads. Did you consider that? No. Because you never think about anyone but yourself.”

Brett sighed. “We’re supposed to take care of our VIP guests, right?”

“Within reason, Brett!”

Brett glared for a moment before he sighed. “Fine… I won’t do it again.”

“What if another customer had witnessed something? The wrong person might’ve made a lot of noise if they’d gotten a peek in here—and potentially ruined Lambeau’s reputation.”

“The only one making noise is you,” Brett said. He crossed to the other side of the table and lifted the check.

Pierce marched up and snatched Brett’s wrist. He pried the check and cash out of the beta’s grip. He glanced at the bill before he counted the cash. “Twelve hundred left on a two-hundred check? He left you a thousand- reno tip?” Pierce met Brett’s gaze. “It was all harmless fun, hmm? I sure as hell wouldn’t pay you a thousand to strip down to your skivvies.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?” Brett asked, smiling and full of swagger. He turned his back to Pierce slightly. “You did see my ass, right? That’s a thousand-reno ass, if I do say so myself—even covered in a pair of briefs.”

Fire him. Fucking fire him.

Brazen, Brett smiled as the many reasons to fire him crossed Pierce’s mind. He seemed to know the effect he was having and was using it to tie Pierce into knots.

Fuck. Why did I have to think about knots right now?

Brett attempted to take the cash from Pierce’s hand. Pierce whipped his hand back, not ready to hand it over without some little sign of remorse. The movement caused Brett to stumble forward and almost crash into Pierce.

He froze, Brett’s body a fraction of an inch away. Pierce stared down his nose at the pretty little beta, knowing it was a thousand-reno ass—not that he’d admit that to anyone. The desire to reach out and drag Brett closer caused one fist to tighten. He dared not move. Brett had made it clear he wasn’t interested in Pierce’s touch.

Only, Brett didn’t move back that time. He stared up at Pierce, his cheeks growing redder. His chest rose and fell in quick breaths, hunger burning in those beautiful eyes.

The mixed messages played with his mind. One minute Brett distanced himself, the next he looked like he wanted that kiss he’d snubbed. Pierce backed away half a step and tapped the stack of bills against his fingertips of his free hand. “No server has ever gotten a thousand-reno tip off one table. You’re just a really great server, hmm? Is that what I’m to believe?”

“Jealous?” Brett asked. He paused a moment, searching Pierce’s face. “You are, aren’t you? But I wonder who you’re jealous of. Me or Grandy?”

Pierce growled, advancing a step, and pinned Brett against the back of a dining table chair—without touching him. There was a hair’s breadth between them. Fear shone in Brett’s eyes, yet there was need still simmering there, too. It screamed to be noticed amid the myriad of emotions swirling in the depths.

A realization hit him. Brett poked at the bear. Over and over again—until the bear poked back. Before he pushed too far, he was arrogant and full of bravado. Once the line was crossed, he grew wide-eyed and acted afraid. It was all another game. He was tired of those as well as the mixed messages.

Before taking a couple of steps back, he shoved the grand against the beta’s chest. “Get out.”

Brett shoved the bills into his pants pocket. “Do I return for tomorrow night’s shift?”

Pierce wanted to say no. “I should fire you.”

Brett took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Ready to poke the bear again. “That sounds dangerously close to a second chance.”

Pierce growled at the beta’s nearness until he backed up.

“I’ll email you by the end of the night—after I’ve had time to review the employee handbook, tally your crimes, and decide if you deserve another chance.”

Brett smiled. “Have a nice night, Boss.”

Brett left him there, clenching the back of a chair so hard his knuckles turned white. He stood there a solid five minutes, collecting himself before he walked out and had a busser go in and clear out the dining room. Then he crossed paths with Eli.

“Brett’s gone for the evening. You can finish his service.”

Eli’s smile lit up.

“But you’re still running, too.”

“It’s only one table. I can do both,” Eli said. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lambeau. I’ll make you proud.”

Pierce marched through the dining room and headed for a register. He punched the screen and shoved the money into the drawer to cover Grandville’s dinner. Then, he went straight to his office before he lost his shit in front of anyone.

Once behind his desk, he stared at the piles of invoices, notes, and time-off requests littering it. There was no way he was in the right frame of mind to go back out to the floor, so he dragged everything into some kind of order until he could cool off. Of course one of the first ones was Brett’s spring break request off. He scoffed and tossed it back onto the desk, tempted to deny the request on principle alone.

A knock sounded at his door. “Come.”

Abraham Norcross—his part-time bookkeeper and part-time server—popped his head inside. “Can I have a minute?”

“If this is about Brett,” Pierce said. “No.”

Abraham and Brett were best friends. How, he wasn’t sure. Abraham was everything Brett wasn’t. Hard-working. Detail-oriented. A sucker for the rules. Pierce’s books were in the best shape they’d ever been in thanks to Abraham—who was an Accounting major at nearby Walton & Maris University during the day. As was Brett. He pitied the company who hired Brett to do their accounting with that apathetic attitude.

Although, Pierce had Brett to thank for bringing Abraham in to interview, so there was that.

Abraham slid inside the office and closed the door. “I know what he did crossed the line…”

“Crossed the line? Do you know what he did?”

Abraham winced.

Pierce scrubbed his face with both hands. “If word of what happened tonight got round, do you know what kind of rumors that could ignite? It could ruin the restaurant’s reputation and drive it into the ground. I just reversed what Peter did. I’m tired of constantly cleaning up the messes others make.”

“I’m not trying to be argumentative here, but some of this is your fault.”

“My fault? Sure. For not firing Brett a long time ago.”

“A few months ago, I mentioned that Grandy didn’t seem to be doing well and shouldn’t be up there eating alone after losing his omega,” Abraham said. “Yet nothing changed. He was sliding deeper and deeper into depression.”

Pierce scowled. He’d sent flowers and even went to the funeral, to pay his respects—even as much as he hated going to the damned things. But after that, it had been hard to see Grandy and be reminded of where he’d once been. He’d kept his distance. It was wrong, but it had been self-preservation on his part.

“Seriously? You’re going to use that as Brett’s defense? Get naked and save a life.”

“The first night Brett served him upstairs, Grandy broke down. He was sobbing. Utterly lost. Heartbroken. Brett sat down, held his hand, and listened.” Tears shone in Abraham’s eyes. “Later that night, Brett broke down and cried in my arms. I know you think he’s shallow and dismissive, but Grandy’s pain affected him deeply. Since that night, he’s gone out of his way to make sure Grandy had fun when he was here. He flirts a little. They play card games. They joke around. Grandy’s starting to look and sound a lot more like himself. I can’t say that’s all because of Brett, but he does get some credit for it.”

Pierce sat with that knowledge a moment, his view of Brett shifting slightly.

Nearly two decades before, Pierce had nearly ended it all after he’d lost his omega. He’d had a lifeline of his own and it was the only thing that had seen him through that hell. That lifeline had been the restaurant. He’d poured everything into Lambeau’s, but he hadn’t figured out how to stop the flow. All he did was breathe, eat, sleep, and work. Twenty years later, he wasn’t sure he’d even truly had the time he needed to properly grieve.

Abraham stepped a little closer to the desk. “I think you know better than most how hard it is for an alpha to lose his omega.”

Pierce’s chest tightened. “Unfair, Abe.”

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel. Only reminding you that you might understand where Grandy was and what Brett did for him.”

“I appreciate him taking it upon himself to help an alpha in need, particularly one of our regulars. That said, tonight went too far.”

“I agree, and I told Brett the same thing,” Abraham said. “But I think he has a hard time telling Grandy no.”

“Lambeau’s is all I have. I won’t let him destroy my brother’s legacy.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t cross the line again,” Abraham said. “If he does, you can fire us both.”

“As if I could fire you.” With all his other responsibilities, he needed the certainty Abraham brought to his office—and the peace that afforded him.

Abraham sighed. “I don’t want to be here without Brett.”

He’d already been handed one ultimatum to keep Brett there. “You can’t force me to keep him by threatening to quit.”

Abraham gasped. “I wasn’t threatening.” He shook his head. “I just meant… he makes everything a little more fun. All I do is go to school and work these days. Without him around, I don’t know if I could make it through until graduation at the pace I’m running. I beg you to give him one more chance. For me. Please.”

“I should’ve fired him forever ago. I’ve given him chance after chance, Abe.” Pierce scrubbed his face with both hands again. “I can’t believe I’m considering letting him stay.”

The corners of Abraham’s lips curled upward. “I’ll keep a better eye on him and reel him back if he appears too close to a line. I promise.”

“Don’t you have enough stress on your shoulders without having to babysit a grown man?”

Abraham shrugged. “He can be hard to tame, but I love that asshole.”

Pierce shook his head.

“I know you’re all about precision and order, but sometimes perfection can get boring. With Brett, you never know what he’s going to do next.” Abraham smiled. “He keeps things interesting.”

Was that the allure—the reason why he never fired Brett? A little bit of danger and drama to keep the tedium of his day-to-day at bay. He wasn’t sure, but he did know that Brett had gotten under his skin from their very first meeting and didn’t appear to be crawling out anytime soon.

Abraham crossed his arms over his chest and hitched a hip on the corner of the desk. “And you say you hate cleaning up other people’s messes, but I think we both know that you secretly love it. I think that’s why you let Peter stay on as long as you did. It gave you something to do.”

Pierce scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Sure, sure,” Abraham murmured. “But I saw your eyes light up that first night after you fired Peter. You jumped in with both feet and turned this ship around.”

That wasn’t true.

Was it?

Pierce frowned at the thought. “I brought Peter in after all his promises, in hopes I could have a life outside of the restaurant. I let it drag longer than it should’ve because I needed the break.”

“Okay,” Abraham said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I clearly got that one wrong. But I’m not wrong about Brett deserving a second chance after what he did for Grandy. One misstep doesn’t equal a firing.”

“As if it’s one misstep,” Pierce spat. He shook his head. “Fine. He can stay—but you keep an eye on him and make sure what happened tonight doesn’t ever happen again. He’s not going to serve Grandville for a few weeks, either. I think they need a break from one other.”

“Grandy’s not going to like that,” Abraham said.

“I’ll deal with Grandville. You get your friend in line.”

Before he left, Abraham offered a small smile. “Will do.”

Once he was alone, Pierce spun his office chair to face the window behind his desk. The moon was near full and hung low in the sky. In another day or two, alphas and omegas would begin the ancient mating dance they’d shared for millennia. Seeing that moon was just another reminder that his omega was gone.

Simon.

He closed his eyes, but instead of his omega’s face, all he could see was Brett’s nearly naked body. His eyes whipped open, and his stomach turned. Spinning around again, he picked up the old, framed photo of him and his omega on the desk and stared at that, refusing to let Brett creep back into his thoughts.

Only he did.

Since Simon, Pierce had never wanted another man. Sure, he’d sated himself with a couple of friends with benefits or a few strangers he’d picked up over the years, but he’d never had another serious relationship. It felt disrespectful to the memory of his omega.

Brett was half his age and a beta.

His employee.

A bad one, at that.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Pierce hadn’t scratched his itch for far too long. He exited his office, checked in on the closing procedures, and once the cash was secured in his safe, he left his team to finish for the night. After running upstairs to his apartment, he freshened up and headed out. It was late. Too late for it to be anything but seeking a willing hole to warm his cock.

He leapt into his new cherry red sportscar parked out back and roared across town to an upscale lounge he’d frequented a time or two. He found himself a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey before turning to survey the metallic and glass interior. A man across the lounge caught his attention.

Brett? He narrowed his gaze, anger roiling in his belly…

He’d come to get his head straight—not make things worse.

Only he quickly realized it wasn’t Brett.

Why was his disappointment stronger than his ire?

The young Brett lookalike glanced his way, smiling wickedly when he noticed Pierce’s focused attention. Pierce offered a smile in return, knowing he shouldn’t. An hour later, Pierce found himself in the guy’s apartment, driving his cock deep into the beta’s hole, all the while wondering if Brett would feel the same under him.

Would he moan louder?

Would he squeeze my cock the way I like it?

“Yeah, Pierce,” the beta moaned. “Gimme that big dick, Daddy.”

While the face was close, the voice was all wrong. And he wasn’t into the whole daddy thing, either. Strikes one and two.

Pierce ignored the sounds, telling himself it was Brett. Pierce went near feral at the thought. It had been too long since he’d fucked anyone, that was all it was. He’d seen Brett almost naked, and it triggered a need he’d ignored. Nothing more. He pumped his hips, closing his eyes to the beta’s cries of pleasure. When he came, the satisfaction in it wasn’t what he’d hoped. He hadn’t gotten what he’d really wanted, after all.

On the car ride home, Brett came to mind again and Pierce’s cock thickened—regardless of if he’d just come less than an hour before. He needed to get the guy out of his system. One way or another.

I should’ve fired him.

Fuck.

Pierce parked his car and ambled up toward the private entrance to his apartment above Lambeau’s. A dark figure sat on the stoop.

As he neared, he narrowed his eyes.

“Well, Pierce Lambeau, are you doing a walk of shame at almost five a.m.? Color me surprised.”

Pierce growled, his body tensing. How the hell could he still want what he couldn’t have after unloading into another man, not once, but twice? “What the fuck are you doing here, Brett?”

“Honestly? I came to apologize. And thank you for letting me keep my job,” Brett murmured, his tone hinting at actual gratitude.

That threw Pierce off balance, coupled with finding the guy on his doorstep in the early gray morning light. He was used to mouthy, wise ass. Not appreciative and serious. The wide-eyed doe look got his cock hard again. “You couldn’t do that in the morning?”

Brett smiled prettily. “It is the morning.”

Pierce glared.

“I came back before the kitchen was closed to talk to you. They said you’d just left. I assumed you’d only be gone a bit. You’re always fucking here,” Brett said. “I sat down on your stoop and… I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Consider me apologized to,” Pierce said. “I need to get to bed. Goodnight, Brett.”

“Where were you tonight?”

“That’s none of your business,” Pierce snapped.

“Did seeing me almost naked give you a hard-on? You went out to get your rocks off after, didn’t you?”

Pierce growled.

“Oh, come on, Pierce. I saw the hint of hard outline in those dress slacks. I know you weren’t completely unaffected seeing me like that.”

“Fuck you, Brett.”

“Okay,” Brett murmured. He pressed his body close to Pierce’s and looked up through his eyelashes, two shades darker than his deep russet hair. “Right now work for you?”

Pierce backed away two steps. “Stop.”

“Whoever you fucked tonight didn’t do a great job if you’re still this pissed off and turned on.” Brett grinned, rubbing Pierce’s growing erection through his pants. “Did he look like me?” That merciless smile widened. “I bet he did. Wanna try the real thing?”

“Go home, Brett.”

“I don’t want to.” He moved even closer, massaging Pierce’s cock. “I know you want me. I’m willing and very able to ride that monster you’ve got in there.”

Pierce swallowed, angry—at himself for not stopping Brett’s hand on him.

He shouldn’t want Brett.

Yet he did .

He brushed past Brett and unlocked the private door to his apartment. As soon as he did, he spun and dragged Brett in behind him—then slammed the door. Their mouths clashed in the darkened hallway. Only a hint of light from the living room above filtered down over the half wall. He didn’t flick the switch, either. If he did, he might come to his senses and stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

Clothes went flying in the dim light. Soon, they were writhing together on the stairs, naked body against naked body. He dragged a condom and the small tube of lube from his pants pocket. After tossing the lube to Brett, he covered his cock with latex.

Watching Brett coat his hole with lube, sliding two fingers into the puckered opening, nearly caused him to come there on the spot. Pierce knelt on one stair and hovered over Brett’s body before sitting down beside the beta. Brett crawled onto Pierce’s lap, arched his back, and impaled himself in swift succession, head falling back with abandon as he filled himself. Pierce searched Brett’s face in the dark, memorizing every line and curve—as well as the dark desire etched on them.

Their moans harmonized with one another, the sound music to Pierce’s ears. Brett bounced on his cock with practiced motions, his ass squeezing Pierce’s shaft just right. Brett’s too-long curls danced on his head, and Pierce was tempted to dig his fingers into them. Instead, he grasped Brett’s hips, slowing the pace to make it last a little while longer before he shattered deep inside.

If Pierce was going to make a mistake, he was going to do it right. If he had his way, there would be no rushing. The beta wouldn’t be denied, though. He refused to let Pierce lead.

Surprise, surprise.

Pierce gave up trying and let the beta have his way. Brett’s body knew what to do, sending Pierce to the stratosphere in a matter of minutes.

“Pierce,” Brett gasped. He moaned, and the sound of it set Pierce’s teeth on edge. “It feels so good… gimme that big dick, Daddy.”

The familiar words made him gasp.

Ice water to his need.

Pierce opened his eyes—and found himself in the lookalike’s bed, gray morning light streaming into the bedroom’s large window. He lay there a moment, the dream of Brett so fucking real, he still wasn’t sure it hadn’t been. It wasn’t the first he’d had starring Brett, but it was the most vivid. When he got over the stab of displeasure, he quietly rolled out of the beta’s bed and drew his clothes on, which wasn’t easy with the hard-on the dream had caused.

The drive home was surreal—as if doing it for the second time. That fucking dream was playing with his mind in more ways than one. When he arrived at the apartment, no one sat on his doorstep with an apology and an invitation to ride his cock—and the disappointment of that twisted in his gut. It was then that he was finally able to admit to himself why he’d been unable to fire the guy.

He wanted Brett.

Desperately.

It wasn’t some itch. No other man was going to make the lust in his blood disappear. Pierce climbed the stairs knowing he and Brett would never happen. He couldn’t let it. Brett Boyd was a ticking timebomb. He was playing with fire allowing the beta so close to him and his business. It was only a matter of time before his world went up in flames.