The Flavor of Us (Beta Accepted)

30. CARLEEN

Chapter thirty

CARLEEN

The morning sun filters through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room. Today’s the day. The day. My chest feels tight, my stomach swirling with nerves and something heavier—something that feels suspiciously like hope.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, adjusting the sharp lines of my charcoal-gray pantsuit. It’s perfectly tailored, hugging my curves without being restrictive, the blazer cinched just right at my waist. Underneath, a crisp white blouse sits flawlessly against my skin. Professional. Commanding. But still me.

Behind me, Tati lounges on the edge of my bed in one of my oversized hoodies, her bare legs kicking softly as she watches me with those wide hazel eyes. She’s got a sleepy smile on her lips, her hair still messy from last night, but goddess, she’s beautiful.

“You’re staring,” I murmur, my lips curving into a faint smile as I catch her reflection in the mirror.

She grins, propping her chin in her hands. “Can you blame me? Look at you, boss lady. All powerful and sexy.”

I turn, rolling my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is undeniable as I cross the room and drop a soft kiss to her lips. She sighs against me, her arms looping lazily around my neck.

“You’ve got this, Alpha,” she whispers, her voice soft but certain. “You’re going to walk in there and absolutely crush it. They’d be idiots not to choose your menu.”

I exhale slowly, pressing my forehead against hers. “Thanks, sweetheart. I needed that.”

She pulls back, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll do amazing. Now, go. Ashton and Ryder are probably already there, doing Alpha things.”

That earns a snort from me, but I kiss her one more time, slow and lingering, before pulling away and grabbing my leather portfolio from the dresser. “Wish me luck,” I murmur.

Tati sits up straighter, holding up two fists like a miniature hype coach. “You don’t need luck, but good luck anyway! ”

I chuckle as I leave the apartment, her voice echoing softly behind me.

The drive to Culinova feels longer than it should, the city buzzing around me as I navigate traffic. Every red light feels like an eternity, every second ticking by sharpening the knot in my chest.

But when I finally pull into the sleek, modern building with its glass walls and steel accents, my pulse steadies. This is my element. This is where I shine.

As I step out of the car and make my way toward the entrance, I spot them immediately. Ashton, leaning casually against one of the pillars with his hands tucked into his slacks, his blazer open, his grin sharp as ever. Ryder, standing a little further back, his broad shoulders pulling at his dark suit jacket, arms crossed over his chest, his piercing blue eyes fixed on me.

They both straighten as I approach and I’m hit with a wave of their scent. It wraps around me like a weighted blanket, grounding me even as my nerves fight to bubble back up. Ashton steps forward first, his grin softening as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the edge of my sleeve.

“Damn, Alpha. You’re going to own that room.”

I smirk, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders ease. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he says confidently before his hand drops away.

Ryder steps closer then, his hands coming up to rest lightly on my shoulders. His thumbs brush against the fabric of my blazer, his gaze steady as he looks me over.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like it’s just for me.

I nod. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

He gives a single, slow nod before stepping back, his presence like an anchor even as he lets me go. “Good,” he says simply. “Let’s do this.”

Ashton gestures dramatically toward the glass doors. “After you, madam chef extraordinaire.”

I snort, rolling my eyes, but my steps are steadier as I stride through the towering glass entrance of Culinova with my two Alphas flanking me on either side. The lobby is sleek, buzzing with quiet energy as staff and clients move about in their carefully tailored outfits. But the moment we step into the room reserved for the tasting presentation, all the noise fades away.

The boardroom is as intimidating as I expected—long glass walls, an imposing table with sleek leather chairs, and a view of the city skyline that screams power. It’s not my first time in a space like this, but it still feels like walking into a den of wolves. Fitting, considering the company.

R. Alexander sits at the head of the table. He’s sharp, graying at the temples, with piercing green eyes that miss nothing . Around him sit a few members of the event committee, their polished smiles fixed in place as Ryder, Ashton, and I head to the front of the room.

“Ms. Monroe,” R. Alexander says, standing as we approach. His hand extends, and I take it, shaking firmly.

“Mr. Alexander,” I reply smoothly, flashing a confident smile. “Thank you for having us.”

"Robert, please."

"Then please call me Carleen.

He nods and gestures for us to sit, Ryder and Ashton flanking me on either side, their presence grounding me. Ashton’s posture is relaxed, his lazy smirk firmly in place, while Ryder sits with his hands folded on the table, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

“I understand you’ve had a productive week with the St. James pack,” Robert says, one brow raised.

I glance briefly at Ashton and Ryder before nodding. “They were exactly what I needed. Professional, insightful, and annoyingly good at pulling me out of my head when I was spiraling.”

Ashton chuckles softly and Ryder’s lip twitches at the corner, but they stay silent, letting me handle this.

Robert’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, let’s talk about this menu of yours. The samples, if you please?”

I reach for the leather folder I brought, sliding it across the table before pulling out the carefully packed samples. Each dish is plated with precision, the small tasting portions nestled perfectly in their containers. As I start explaining each dish, the ingredients, the inspiration, the textures—I lose myself in it. This is where I shine. The room fades away, the eyes of the committee blur into the background, and it’s just me and the food.

The seared duck breast with cherry glaze, the hand-rolled gnocchi in sage butter, the citrus panna cotta with edible gold flakes—it’s all me. Every dish tells a story and every story is personal.

As they taste, the silence is heavy. Forks scrape against plates, quiet murmurs exchanged. Ashton and Ryder remain still, their gazes flickering between the committee members and me. Finally, Robert sets down his fork, dabbing at his mouth with a pristine white napkin. “Carleen, this is…” He pauses, looking around the table. “Exceptional. Truly exceptional.”

A rush of relief blooms in my chest, but I keep my expression composed, hands folded neatly in front of me. One of the committee members—a woman with perfectly styled dark hair and sharp crimson lipstick—leans forward. “Your flavors are bold but refined and the presentation is flawless. I don’t think I’ve seen a menu like this in years.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice steady despite the rapid flutter of my heartbeat.

Robert leans back in his chair, his green eyes steady on me. “You’ve got the event, Carleen.”

The words hit me like a freight train, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. Ashton lets out a low whistle, nudging my shoulder with his. “Told you, boss lady.”

Ryder’s hand lands on my knee under the table, a firm but reassuring weight.

I exhale a soft laugh, leaning back slightly in my chair. “I mean… you didn’t really have anyone else, right? It’s not like you had a backup plan.”

The room chuckles lightly, but Robert’s brow dips into a faint frown. “No,” he says firmly, his voice dropping into something serious. “We didn’t.” Robert’s eyes lock onto mine, his expression unyielding. “We found your catering. We saw your work. And from the moment we did, we knew we didn’t want anyone else. There was never a question of asking another chef. It was always you after we lost the original caterer, Carleen.”

My throat tightens, and for a moment, I can’t find my voice. It’s one thing to believe in your own work, to pour your soul into every dish, every detail—but to hear someone like him validate it? To know they chose me deliberately, without hesitation?

It’s overwhelming.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice softer now. “That means more than I can say.”

Robert nods once, sharply. “We’ll have our team reach out with the official contract and event details this afternoon. Congratulations, Carleen. You’ve earned it.”

The meeting wraps up with a few more pleasantries, some handshakes, and a promise to meet soon to finalize everything. The afternoon sun hits just right as we step out into the parking lot, casting everything in a warm golden glow. I did it. We did it.

Ashton practically skips ahead, digging into the inside pocket of his blazer with that signature cocky smirk on his face. Ryder stands close beside me, one large hand casually brushing against my lower back as we walk. He doesn’t need to say anything—his steady presence speaks volumes.

“Alright, boss lady,” Ashton announces, turning on his heel with a dramatic flourish. In his hand is a tiny bottle of champagne, the kind they sell in little gift boxes. “Couldn’t let such a moment pass without a little bubbly, could I?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Seriously? You were carrying that in your jacket pocket during the meeting?”

He shrugs one broad shoulder, grinning. “Always prepared for success, darling.”

I take the bottle from him, twisting the cap off with a satisfying pop. The fizzy scent of champagne wafts into the air, and without hesitation, I tip the bottle back and take a long sip. The crisp bubbles tickle my tongue, the cool liquid sharp against the heat in my chest.

Ashton’s watching me when I lower the bottle, his smile softer now, less teasing. I see the shift in his gaze, the way it drops briefly to my mouth before flicking back up to meet my eyes. My stomach flips, and my pulse quickens. “You want some?” I ask, holding the bottle out to him.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But… can I have something else?”

The world narrows down to just us, the faint hum of traffic in the background fading away. His eyes are warm, filled with something deep and unspoken. My heart hammers in my chest as I nod, my voice catching in my throat.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Yeah, you can.”

Ashton steps closer, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek as he tilts his head down. His lips meet mine softly at first, almost hesitant, like he’s waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. I lean in, my free hand finding his chest, fingers curling against the soft fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepens, his mouth pressing more firmly against mine as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His other hand finds my waist, pulling me just a little closer, and I let myself fall into it. It’s warm and electric, sending a pulse of heat straight through me.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. Ashton’s forehead rests against mine, his grin lazy but soft. Ryder clears his throat lightly, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when I turn to look at him. His blue eyes are bright, filled with amusement and something deeper that makes me want to lean into him, too.

“You two done making out in the parking lot or are we gonna head home and celebrate properly with our Beta?” Ryder drawls, one brow raised.

I grin, swatting lightly at Ashton’s chest as I step back. “He’s right. We’ve got a certain Beta waiting at home for us, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to want in on this celebration.”

Ashton chuckles, reaching down to take my free hand in his as Ryder steps closer to my other side. “Think Tati’s gonna lose her mind when she finds out?” Ashton asks as we walk toward the car, his voice filled with boyish excitement.

“Oh, absolutely,” I reply, smirking. “But it’ll be worth it. She’s been our biggest cheerleader through this whole thing.”