Cassidy #2
I clutch my laptop tighter against my chest. “I just… this is a lot.”
“The bouquet?”
“No.” I shake my head rapidly, shrugging helplessly. “All of it.”
His jaw flexes.
“You’re upset because Isaac spent time with you,” he says flatly.
“What? No.”
Is that what he thinks? That I’m upset about Isaac? Isaac has done nothing but be kind to me.
Far kinder than I have deserved.
“You’re worried about him working late because of you. You’re apologising for flowers. You’re trying to hide them from your family.” His eyes drag slowly across my face. “You keep acting like caring for you is some unbearable burden.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes sting with the effort of holding back tears. He says it like it’s obvious. As if caring for someone is supposed to be easy.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper.
“Then help me understand it, daisy.”
I take a small step backwards instinctively, and his expression darkens immediately.
Oh.
Oh, no.
“You really do want me gone,” he says quietly.
“No!” The word escapes too fast. “No, I just—Van, please stop giving me things. Stop making Isaac waste his time looking after me. I can’t—I don’t know what you want from me.”
Something fierce flashes across his face.
“Waste his time?” he repeats. “Isaac wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t want to. I never forced him to stay.”
I stare at him blankly, my heart hammering against my ribs. The corridor suddenly feels much too small.
Much too warm.
His scent presses against my senses now that we’re standing so close.
“You seem stressed,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I don’t like this habit of yours of hiding yourself from me.”
Before I can react, his hand closes around my wrist, and he brings it to his lips.
I don’t know what to do. How to stop him. Or how to encourage him.
How to beg him for his scent.
Something inside me leans towards him without my permission.
His thumb brushes over the delicate skin beneath my scent gland, and something in his expression shifts instantly.
The air thickens.
Sharp coffee and dark chocolate flood the corridor so suddenly my knees almost buckle, and my scent glands ache beneath my skin.
“Van—”
His pupils flare.
For one terrifying second, he looks almost as startled as I feel. Then his grip loosens abruptly.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
I blink up at him, completely disoriented, and he runs his hand through his hair in annoyance.
My watch beeps, alerting me to the next hour, and I’m now officially late.
Fuck.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
His eyes drag slowly over me again, and something heated twists low in my stomach despite my panic.
“You can’t run from me, Cassidy.”
“I’m not lying,” I say quickly. “I have a meeting, and I can’t be late, and—”
“As long as you understand,” he says. “This is far from over, little daisy. Run along to your meeting, now.”
I nod, ducking my head, as I rush towards Harlan’s office.
My pulse refuses to settle.
Every breath I take drags rich coffee and dark chocolate into my lungs, thick enough that it feels lodged beneath my skin.
Oh, my gosh.
Oh, my gosh.
My fingers fly to my wrist, rubbing frantically at the place his mouth touched, but the friction only pulls more of his scent from my skin.
What the hell was that?
The corridor blurs slightly as I hurry towards Harlan’s office, my heart hammering hard enough to make me feel sick.
I’m late.
And I smell like I’ve been standing far too close to an alpha.
Harlan prefers me as a blank slate, not… well, like this.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
I skid to a stop outside his office door, trying to steady my breathing before knocking quickly and stepping inside.
“Cassie, you’re late,” Harlan says before the door even closes behind me. “Wasn’t an hour lunch enough for you?”
My flinch can’t be hidden as I continue to the desk. He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, which makes the weight of his anger worse.
“I’m so sorry, sir, I was stopped by—”
“I don’t care for excuses. Sit,” he says, gesturing to the seat in front of the desk. “Did you get the notes sent to everyone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. What’s that awful smell?” He lifts his eyes, looking at me directly. “Are you trying out an alpha scent as a way to hide your omega one?”
I shake my head rapidly. “No, sir, I’m sorry. I, um, bumped into someone and must have—”
“Let me add clumsy to your talents,” he mutters with a shake of his head.
Humiliation burns hot beneath my skin.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again because I don’t know what else to say.
Harlan finally leans back in his chair, sharp green eyes fixed fully on me now.
The attention is almost worse.
“You apologise too much.”
My lips part slightly. “I—”
“There.” He points at me with his pen. “You just did it again.”
Heat crawls up my neck because part of me wants to argue, but I also know I can’t.
“I’m trying to be polite, sir.”
“You’re acting like every conversation we have is a fucking disciplinary meeting,” he says. “I’m not going to fire you for opening your fucking mouth. It’s exhausting. You are exhausting.”
My stomach twists painfully, and I nod once. I want to cry, to apologise, to tell him I won’t do it again.
But I know it’s a lie.
His jaw tightens slightly, eyes dragging over my face before settling back onto the files spread across his desk.
“And stop calling me sir every five seconds,” he snaps. “My name is Harlan.”
I blink at him in surprise.
“Yes, si—” I catch myself awkwardly. “Harlan.”
One of his brows lifts slowly, and I can’t decipher the look on his face.
“Sit down properly,” he says gruffly. “We’re just waiting for Silas, and then we can go over the meeting notes together.”
I lower myself into the chair opposite him, clutching my laptop to my chest for a second too long before setting it down carefully.
The rich scent of coffee and dark chocolate still clings stubbornly to my skin, and I can’t decide if it’s comforting or an extra layer of anxiety.
Harlan’s jaw flexes, his nostrils flaring slightly as the scent reaches him.
A sharp knock echoes through the room, and Harlan’s expression hardens again immediately.
“Enter.”