Evander #2
He shifts his attention to the alpha. Despite only being a few years older than us, the faint lines around his eyes and the salt-and-pepper at his temples make him look practically ancient beside the fresh-faced trainees.
“And you”—a faint smirk tugs at his mouth—“you’re not stupid enough to let anything pass you by. You’re someone everyone looks up to. You know where the bodies are buried, who buried them and who pulled the trigger.”
The alpha huffs, but there’s no argument. Then Isaac looks at the blonde.
“And you…” he pauses just long enough to make her lean forward, eager. “People forget to stop talking around you.”
Her smile widens instantly, and Isaac’s mouth barely curves, but I know him well enough to see the satisfaction there.
I don’t question Isaac’s choices often, not when I know how accurate he is. Every decision Isaac makes is calculated in a way I’ll never fully understand.
Still, my gaze flicks back to the blonde with disgust. Everything about her feels manufactured—the synthetic peach pheromones, the glossy makeup, the carefully curled blonde hair and the practiced wide-eyed innocence.
If she’s the department’s best source of “insight”, we’ve got bigger problems than inefficiency.
Isaac’s expression doesn’t change, but based on the amusement in his eyes, he can read my expression very clearly.
“On Monday, we’ll be meeting with each of you. Let me know your direct supervisor so we can let them know, and feel free to get back to work,” I say firmly.
As expected, the dark-haired woman is efficient with her handover, and Grandpa doesn’t waste time lingering either. The blonde, however, hovers by my desk.
“I just wanted to say what an honour this is, Mr Whitmore,” she says, her voice pitched to sound alluring, but all it does is grate on my nerves. “I’ve admired your work for years. I’m Gemma Powter, as I’m sure you know.”
I raise a brow, as Isaac discreetly closes the door once more.
“You’ve admired my work?” I deadpan.
My work? I doubt she even knew my name before today.
I’m not stupid—I know I’m attractive, and with more zeroes in my bank account than on the waistlines upstairs, I’m a decent catch.
But going on the work angle is ridiculous. The business Isaac and I are in is not one that wins awards or gets big fucking productions made out of it. We get brought in to clean up disasters, and then we disappear before anyone has to admit that we’re there.
Nobody proudly advertises the fact that their company needed saving.
She nods brightly. “And that of your sister, of course.”
And there it is.
As the bonded omega to Opus Media’s founding board, my twin sister’s name carries weight in this company. She’s talented in her own right—but she’s on maternity leave, which means whatever standards she enforced have clearly slipped. This year’s intake proves that much.
I guarantee this first-year knows very little about Em.
Fake, lying bitch.
“Oh, of course,” I say dryly. I lean forward on the desk, lacing my fingers together. “We’re actually curious about someone in your department. I think you might have some valuable insight into her.”
She simpers at me, scooting her chair closer to the desk. My nose burns hard enough that tears prick at the corners of my eyes. It’s like she’s marinated herself in the stuff.
If she dares touch me, I’ll—Isaac coughs lightly, and I glance up to see him shaking his head in warning.
Prick.
It’s not like he could know what I was thinking.
“Would I know her?” she asks, leaning forward with just enough suggestion that her intentions are clear.
Isaac moves over to my side, hovering nearby but not interfering.
Yet.
“We thought everyone was present for this meeting, and yet, we noticed at least one of the first-years were missing.” I watch her face closely, but she doesn’t react. “She’s an omega—”
“Cassidy,” she says immediately, cutting me off.
Cassidy.
Cassidy!
I mouth the name silently, already liking the way it feels on my tongue. So, that’s her name. Soft enough that it already feels addictive.
And now I finally have something to call the clumsy omega who’s been stuck in my head all fucking morning.
Something to call her when I finally find her and express my disappointment that she’s evaded me.
The blonde’s lips curl into a slight sneer, and something ugly flashes across her face.
“I’m not surprised. She’s not worth your attention, sir. Trust me. She’s still clinging to a place on the graduate programme because her cousin owns the company, but she’s terrible at her job, so they quietly moved her out of the department.”
That’s not the answer I expected.
Which one of Emme’s mates is related to Cassidy? Hm.
“I see.”
“HR came and got her earlier this week, and she’s now being supervised directly by Director Mercer. Harlan’s apparently the only one who can keep her under control.”
Harlan? A bit personal for a first-year to refer to her boss.
Isaac doesn’t hide his sneer quickly enough, but Gemma doesn’t notice.
“What kind of problems are we talking about here?”
I think back to the clumsy omega I’d run into earlier—all delicate wrists and wide doe eyes. Barely 5’2” with a tiny build, she looked like a strong wind could knock her over. She’s young, sure, but she’d seemed professional enough.
If you ignore spilling my coffee over herself and stumbling around like a startled little fawn.
“She constantly stayed late because she had no idea what she was doing,” Gemma says, shaking her head. “She’s always running off to the bathroom because she can’t handle stress. Plus, she’s always trying to get special treatment because she’s an omega.”
Gemma bites her lip and glances at the door—and Isaac—before looking back at me with simpering eyes. “I don’t usually pay attention to rumours, but there’s a big one about her you’ll probably want to hear.”
Fucking liar. I know girls like her. They’re usually the ones starting the rumours. Emme has dealt with this shit her entire life.
I don’t trust a single thing this woman is saying, not when she’s so obviously bitter about Cassidy being an omega when she’s not.
Whatever’s going on with her, I’ll figure it out—but I’m not trusting a fucking word out of this bitch’s mouth.
“We asked for everything you knew,” I say, trying to keep my words even. It would do no good to snarl at her, even though I’m desperate to do so. “Sometimes rumours tell you exactly who people are.”
“She’s a rich girl who has never had to earn anything in her life, and she’s desperate to get ahead. By any means necessary. There are rumours about her and some of the senior staff…”
“And these rumours are?” I ask, raising a brow. Isaac looks seconds away from laughing, which somehow makes the tension worse.
Gemma clearly regrets opening her mouth now.
“Well? Spit it out.”
She shifts, batting her eyelashes at me. “People think she’s sleeping her way to the top. That’s why Director Mercer took her under his wing. Why else would he take an omega with no real talent?”
“That’s great, Gemma, thank you,” Isaac says before I say something I can’t take back. “We’ll speak to you later.”
She nods quickly and practically flees the room. Isaac closes the door behind her with a smirk.
“Don’t,” I snarl, shaking my head. I slam my hands onto the desk, hearing the wood crack beneath the force of it.
“We don’t know this girl, and for all we know—Gemma’s not far off,” Isaac says diplomatically. “She seemed sweet, sure, but omegas know how to weaponise that shit. I think we need to feel her out ourselves.”
“That’s the kind of bullshit people always said about Em, and you know—”
“I do know,” he soothes. “I was there for it all, remember? But don’t let that make you reckless, Ev. This omega is not your sister—she’s not Emme, and you don’t know what she needs yet.”
I flip him off. “And what’s this shit about her being related to one of the bosses? It’s clearly not Oscar, since it’s only him and Lia.”
“It’s not Uri—at least, not a biological one. I doubt it’s Paxton. Sterling makes the most sense, since he’s got the largest family.”
“And it makes sense if she is a nepo hire—he’s the closest to his wider family,” I add. Isaac nods. “So, we’ll talk to her ourselves, and then maybe I’ll invite myself over to dinner this weekend and interrogate Em’s men about her.”
“Oh, so inconspicuous,” he taunts. “Head down to Mercer’s office and see what you can figure out—”
“Since when did you become the boss?” I demand, and he snorts. “Fuck off. You’re the bitch—I’m the genius.”
“Honestly, without me, you’d never organise your life. We’ve had this argument before—being your assistant is not the same as being a normal assistant, you prick.”
I smirk. “Either way, your title starts with ‘ass’ and mine doesn’t.” I button my jacket back up as I stand from this chair. “I’ll text you whatever I figure out.”
“Good. I’ll get coffee. Probably best to wait until after you track down Little Miss Butterfingers.”
“You’re such a prick,” I say, laughing. I follow him out of the room, noticing half the bullpen tracking our every movement on the way out, and only once the door closes behind us does the room return to the loud chaos that it was when we arrived.
I’m confident Isaac and I are the discussion topic for at least half of them right now.
Good. Let’s hope it makes them think twice about continuing to slack off.
Now, all I need to do is find the omega who has somehow managed to disappear from me all fucking morning.
Cassidy is somehow harder to find than classified government documents.
I wander down the corridors of Director Mercer’s floor, reading each door, but it’s hard to find someone when I don’t even know her surname. All of the offices are labelled with first initial followed by surname.
“What are you doing without your shadow?” a gruff voice drawls.
I turn, rolling my eyes as I spot Uri leaning against the wall behind me. He’s exactly the same as this morning—just missing the watch Dellan stole.
“What are you doing here without your watch?”