Cassidy #4
Persephone rises too quickly, her knees catching the edge of the sofa bed as she gives me an apologetic look. “This is Cassie, one of the stylists that work here. Cassie, this is Vincent Callow, and Cyrus Langston, my agent.”
Vincent barely glances at me before speaking.
“And we’ve got work to do, so buzz off, Omega.” He checks the face of his expensive watch as though I’m already wasting his time.
Panic builds in my gut, and I feel Evander’s anger pulse down in response. He’s not close by, I can feel that much, but knowing he knows I’m struggling helps.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Persephone says sharply, her scent perfuming her office. She gives me a soft smile, the apology clear on her face. “You can let Mr Mercer know I’m available, and ask him to touch base with Cy, if possible.”
Cyrus steps farther into the room, placing his lean frame between Vincent and Persephone without seeming to think about it.
Gold catches in his deep hazel eyes when he looks me over, his leather-and-cardamom scent flaring in protective response.
“I’ll keep an eye out for the email, Cassie. Do you need an escort back downstairs?”
I shake my head, trapped between the desk and the two alphas filling the doorway. The atmosphere in this room is far too tense for me, but I feel so horrible leaving Persephone to it.
“Bye now, Omega, you do not have the right to be here for this,” Vincent says, and I shudder.
Cyrus turns so he’s both between me and Vincent, and between Vincent and Persephone.
“It was nice to meet you, Cassidy,” he says reassuringly. He gestures to the door, and there’s an almost trust me, I’ve got her look about him.
I can’t protest it, no matter how much I wish I could. Evander’s concern is still pressing down our bond, and it’s only when I grasp onto it that it settles slightly.
I escape the model floor, passing bright fitting rooms and rolling clothes racks in a blur. My breath heaves as panic clutches at me without permission, but the echo of Evander’s concern keeps me moving.
This is awful, and I just want my mate.
I need him.
My phone buzzes before I reach the office we were in earlier, and I’m very relieved to see Harlan’s messages.
Harlan
Don’t come back in here, luxury. It’s a shit show.
Harlan
Draft an email for Persephone outlining the pitch, and send it to me for approval.
Harlan
Then work through her dossier, matching fabrics and jewellery with her skin tone.
Harlan
See you soon.
Normally, having a plan would help. Instead, I close my office door behind me and lean against the cool wood, breathing through the lingering tightness in my chest.
Vincent’s voice keeps scraping through my thoughts.
Buzz off, Omega.
He was awful, and I have no doubt he’s part of Persephone’s fear when it comes to working with Evren Vasile.
Everyone knows he’s been with Vincent since the start of his career, and his agent is a major… alpha.
I cross the quiet office and lower myself into my nest beneath the window, dragging the blanket Silas made for me over my lap. The scents of my pack cling to the fabric, but today, I need more.
I want Harlan’s grouchy muttering from the other room. Silas sitting nearby, pretending he isn’t watching everyone.
Evander’s unfiltered laugh taking up space. Isaac quietly understanding without making me explain.
I want my pack.
A few weeks ago, I’d have been mortified by that thought. Now… not so much.
That might be the strangest part.
My phone lights up again.
Evander
Help is coming, daisy.
Evander
Don’t worry, okay?
Warm certainty washes through our bond, and I sniffle, blinking back the rush of tears.
I still don’t think I deserve them, but I’m trusting that they want me anyway.
A few moments later, someone knocks.
Isaac opens the door far enough to peer inside, his dark hair still immaculate despite the morning’s chaos. He carries two coffees in one hand and his laptop tucked beneath the other arm, caramel and butterscotch slipping into the room ahead of him.
“Van’s trapped in a meeting,” he says apologetically. “He sent the inferior mate instead.”
Relief rushes through me so quickly the tears fall anyway.
“You’re not inferior,” I say through a watery smile.
“I didn’t think so, but I’ll be excited to let him know he is,” Isaac says teasingly.
He sets one coffee on the corner of my cluttered desk but doesn’t come closer.
He’s waiting patiently, giving me the choice of whether I can ask for what I want or not.
My fingers tighten around the edge of Silas’s blanket. “Isa?”
“Yeah, shortcake?”
I swallow past the vulnerable ache in my throat. “Will you come into my nest with me?”
Isaac goes completely still, then his expression softens into something so tender that my chest hurts.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’d really like that.”
He sets his polished shoes neatly beside the sofa before climbing in carefully, folding his long frame into the limited space without crushing any of my blankets.
He makes sure not to knock me or disturb anything as he arranges himself next to me.
I rest against his shoulder, his caramel-and-butterscotch scent warm in the small nest, and balance my laptop across my thighs. I don’t have the courage to open up to him right now, but he doesn’t push.
Instead, he opens his laptop across his knees and starts doing his own work.
Nothing is fixed with me. Persephone is still upstairs handling whatever is going on there. The campaign is still having a minor setback.
Isaac settles beside me, quietly working while his scent slowly settles through my nest, and I breathe around everything I can’t yet say.
For now, that’s enough.