13. Emmeline
13
Emmeline
“ T
ake small sips,” Sterling says, handing me a bottle of water. I shake my head, trying to push it away.
“Now, Omega,” Oscar commands, and I’m frustrated that I can’t argue, that I can’t protest. My hands move of their own accord, accepting the bottle and uncapping it.
I whine, frustrated at the warring emotions inside of me. Part of me is content, happy that we’re being doted on, that we’re being cared for.
Another part is upset they didn’t listen, that Oscar acted as if he knows better than me, about my needs.
But mostly… I’m just terrified. Terrified to throw up again. Terrified by Paxton’s declaration that we’re scent matches.
Terrified of revealing the truth.
“Good girl,” Oscar says, rubbing my back still. “Small sips.”
“You don’t need to drink if you don’t want to, Emmeline,” Paxton says, his voice firm but steady. I’m relieved when he strides closer as the tension in the room seems to shift with his decision.
Paxton has spoken, and that’s the end of it. Oscar, who just seconds ago commanded me to drink, doesn’t push the issue further.
Even though we’re all wearing scent neutraliser and I can’t take comfort in their scents, it doesn’t change my reaction to their presence. Two strong alphas and a beta so close to me, hovering so protectively.
It’s intoxicating.
“I’m okay,” I say nervously, and as soon as they each take a step away, it’s like the baby inside me revolts, and my stomach is forced to pay the price.
The water Oscar forced me to drink comes straight back up, and I gag.
“What the fuck? Pax, call the fucking doctor, now,” Sterling snarls. “Oscar, get the door. We’re taking her to bed?—”
He’s cut off with a low growl from the doorway. My eyes dart up as the scent of honey and black pepper ripens the room.
With a relieved gasp of air, his scent works its way into calming the tiny baby inside me, and I can finally relax. I thought I might be desensitised to his scent after spending days clutching his tie.
But I’m not.
Nothing could prepare me for the rush it gives, for the way my entire body and system relaxes for the first time since the effects of my pregnancy began.
My headache begins to ease.
The nausea fades entirely.
And even the aches and pains that I’ve been feeling settle.
“You think I’d harm her?” Uri snarls, his tone laced with frustration. The air thickens with his presence, the weight of his words pressing into the space between us.
He doesn’t hide his anger as he glares at Paxton and Oscar, and I find myself a little intrigued by the dynamics. As the head alpha, I’m surprised Uri doesn’t defer even a little to Paxton.
I hadn’t noticed that both Oscar and Paxton have shifted in front of me, their bodies angled slightly towards Uri, forming an instinctive barrier.
It’s protective, automatic—but it doesn’t feel like a challenge. More like a test.
Uri’s eyes flicker, assessing the movement, but he doesn’t push against it.
Instead, his focus settles on me .
Sterling stands directly behind me, his fingers curling over the back of my chair, bracketing me in. My heart is racing at the close proximity, and I’m jealous of how unbothered he can seem.
I try to stay still, to keep my breathing even and steady, so as to not draw further attention. But there’s a clawing feeling inside me, my anxiety building. I’m trapped , and it’s not a good feeling since the tension in the room is stifling.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Uri hisses when nobody tells him anything. “Emmeline?”
“Um, how about we all sit?” I say, surprised when Sterling’s hands fall to my shoulders. His touch is gentle, soft, even.
A sharp contrast with the harsh tone he’s been using so far.
Paxton turns to me and raises a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
He exhales, then moves—deliberate and unhurried—as he claims the seat right beside me. If I move, even an inch, we’d be touching.
Unsurprisingly, Uri finds issue with that and growls low in his throat.
Even though there’s aggression in the noise, I don’t care. My body knows, I know, that Uri is my mate. That he could never physically harm me, that he’d never even try.
Shame that other types of harm are still on the table.
Surprisingly, Paxton doesn’t react in a growl or in anger.
Instead, he turns his head, eyes locking onto Uri’s with the kind of quiet command that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. A second passes, then another.
Uri doesn’t break his gaze, but his growl fades as he relents to Paxton. He takes the seat across from Paxton instead, and the tension in the room settles.
For now.
“What is going on here, Emmeline?” Uri asks with confusion. “Why are you here?”
“I reached out to you yesterday as we need to talk,” I say quietly. I can’t hide from this, no matter how much I want to.
Sterling moves from behind me, dropping into the seat directly opposite Uri. There’s an expression on his face that I can’t read, and, for the first time since entering the room, I’m upset that they too chose to use scent neutraliser today.
That I can’t use the shifts in their scent to detect their moods.
“I spoke to Sterling instead, and we arranged a visit for today,” I continue, not meeting any of their eyes. Instead, I look at the monitor directly opposite me.
“I don’t understand,” Uri says, and his scent shifts, portraying his confusion. “I never missed a call from you.”
“My bad,” Sterling says without an ounce of guilt or regret. In fact, he sounds smug . “After Emmeline left last week in her walk of shame, I?—”
“Why is it a walk of shame?” Oscar asks. I look to my left, since he’s not yet moved to sit down. “Emmeline was a single woman who is more than entitled to fuck whoever she pleased.”
“Is,” I correct.
Oscar looks down at me, an indulgent smile on his face. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.” Ignoring the whines from my omega, I shake my head. “You’re not even—I’m not…”
“You’re mine,” Uri says forcefully.
“She claims that I’m hers,” Sterling adds, leaning back in his seat, his arms crossing.
Uri’s eyes widen, but his scent seems relieved, excited, even .
I don’t understand his claim or his eagerness, considering he chose to leave me. I don’t know how I’d have reacted that morning if he were there, but I’d like to think I’d have been more receptive of him than I am now.
“I know that she’s mine,” Paxton adds firmly. “Even without a scent, my alpha knows.”
“Math dictates that if all three of you have a claim, then I do, too!” Oscar grins at me once more, his cheery disposition just a little off-putting. “So, you may want to claim single status, Emmeline, but you’re ours just as much as we’re yours. Clearly, we just need to work harder to have you accept it.”
“You don’t understand,” I say, looking down at my hands. “I don’t…”
I trail off and press my hands against the table, pushing back. The chair silently rolls over the hardwood flooring, and every eye is fixated on me. Sterling’s knuckles whiten as he clenches his hands that much tighter, and Paxton shifts forward a fraction as if to stop me.
Oscar’s gaze is sharp when it flicks to my face, but, as expected, he doesn’t move. Instead, the alpha stands there to the side, assessing, waiting, likely working out what my most probable cause of action is going to be.
Uri’s the only one to not move an inch, his warm brown eyes filled with concern and his scent a troubled cacophony.
Then Paxton breaks the tense silence. “You’re ours, Emmeline.”
His voice isn’t raised, isn’t aggressive. But it doesn’t have to be.
It’s final. Undeniable.
And none of them argue.
Hell, I can’t even argue.
But I know what will change his mind—change their minds. Every delay in breaking this news is because of me and my own dramatics, but I can’t hold it in any longer.
Not when they’re declaring things we don’t even know are true.
I take a deep breath and meet Uri’s gaze, since he’s the one who deserves to hear it from me. “I’m pregnant.”
“We care why?” Sterling demands.
Uri lets out a deep, satisfied growl. My eyes widen. He’s pleased. Accepting.
Paxton stills, his gaze locked onto mine, something calculating and unreadable flickering behind his eyes. I can’t look away, but the intensity in his deep brown eyes makes my breathing hitch and my omega unsettled.
A deep craving for our nest builds, and I think it comes from me .
“I knew it!” Oscar’s voice is laced with smugness. “I was wondering why you’d be on heat leave but not actually in heat, and then?—”
“She did go into heat,” Uri corrects, his voice rough.
“So you’re trying to, what… trap us with a baby?” Sterling scoffs.
The word strikes harder than I expect—considering I’ve had this exact thought myself—and my breathing shudders. I stumble back, the room tilting, as Uri’s scent darkens.
“Sterling,” Paxton’s voice is quiet, but the warning is unmistakable.
He’s trying to calm the beta down, to hold him back.
I don’t understand why.
“I have every single right to ask,” Sterling retorts, his words biting and full of malice. “If she’s going to fuck Uri and be stupid enough to get herself knocked up, I get to know her intentions.”
Shame fills me, and I wish I had the confidence to snarl like Paxton does. Or the rage to hide my hurt like Uri can.
Instead, I burst into tears like the weak and pathetic omega I am. Oscar takes a step towards me, but I back away, moving towards the corner, giving myself cover from the men and the tension they carry.
I slide down the wall, holding onto myself, desperately trying to hide my sobs from these people. I can’t give them the satisfaction. I can’t embarrass myself any further.
I’m furious at myself for being this dramatic, this much of a state. I hate that they get to see the way I’ve reacted, the pain his words cause.
I absolutely hate myself.
“That is enough!” Paxton’s voice raises, the growl clear to hear. “Sterling, if you can’t keep your mouth shut, you can leave. Oscar, take a seat, as your presence is making her more nervous.”
He releases an annoyed grumble that only agitates me that much further. I hunch in, pressing as close to the wall as possible.
I need a nest. I need comfort.
I need… I need to hide.
Am I scared? I don’t know. I’m absolutely mortified, and no matter how hard I’m trying, my tears won’t settle, my body won’t relax.
All of the weight of the last few days unleashes, and I’m just along for the journey.
“Uri, can you—” Paxton starts before cutting himself off. “Never mind. Sterling, go get Emmeline some tea.”
“Decaf,” Oscar cuts in quietly.
“Perfect,” Paxton says calmly. “Uri, throw over your jacket.”
My sobs quieten the more he speaks, but my traitorous body won’t calm down, the flow of the tears just as fast. My gasps for air echo loudly through the room.
I get the feeling that no matter how hard I beg for a wormhole to open up under me or a sniper to shoot me through the glass, fate won’t grant it. Not when I’m giving her this much of a good show.
“I’m going to come a little closer, Omega,” Paxton murmurs, his voice soft and steady. “I want to give you something.”
I lift my head ever so slightly, seeing him edge towards me. His steps are slow and careful, and when he offers out a grey jacket, I snatch it from him, bringing it to myself.
My purr is louder than any of their growls have been as I wrap myself up in the black pepper and honey-scented jacket. It’s warm and comforting, and the scent is so strong.
“So much better,” I whisper to myself, rubbing my cheeks along the fabric, trying to soak up as much of his scent as I physically can. It’s so much better than the tie, so, so much better.
I’m not giving this back. They’ll have to rip it from my dying body first.
Just in case they do try, I quickly pull it around me like a coat and slip my arms into the giant sleeves. I imagine I look much like a child playing dress up, but I don’t care. I can burrow into the high-quality material and be truly encased in my alphas scent.
Because he is.
Mine.
My alpha.
Mine.
“You’re such a good omega, Emmeline,” Uri says, and my head snaps up, noticing that he’s crouched down next to Paxton.
They’re both a couple of meters away, but where they’re both tense, nervous, I’m relieved. My omega and I are in agreement on these men—on Sterling and on Uri, at least.
They have hurt me. Deeply.
And I’m allowed to be angry about that.
But, right now, I need to apologise for being so… unprofessional. No matter the situation, these men are still my bosses. Sterling’s already threatened to have me fired once. I cannot have them try again—not after I’ve already admitted they were basically my only option in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” I say, cringing as Uri’s scent shifts into anger once more. “I was… I didn’t mean to be so dramatic and rude. I was just?—”
“Reacting as anyone who was attacked that way would.” Paxton’s tone is so gentle, so full of warmth and care.
“Do you want to move through to Sterling’s office?” Uri asks, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to mimic Paxton’s tone, but the quiet, slow way of speaking sounds strange coming from him.
“I think she’d prefer mine,” Oscar interjects. I look up at where he’s sitting in the seat I vacated.
I feel a little numb, a little spacey—drunk on Uri’s scent, maybe. I don’t know what to say or how to react. I’m just exhausted.
I mostly want to go and build myself a nest so that I can take a nap—after stealing something of Sterling’s to put inside it, too, of course.
Stupid omega hormones.
The man detests me, and yet, I crave him.
It’s pathetic.
“Sterling’s making you some tea, little omega,” Uri continues. “But I think you’ll want to be somewhere more comfortable. Oscar’s office is scent-free, as is his attached bedroom.”
My lips part, and I can’t deny that the idea is intriguing. It’s… stupid.
“No, it’s okay.” I shake my head and try to ignore the urge to cower when both their faces harden.
“One day, Emmeline, you’re going to understand that it is our job to give you whatever you could need, whether you think you deserve it or not,” Paxton says calmly, and my heart thuds against my chest. He pauses for just a second before rising to his feet. “But since today is not that day, let’s go back to the table. I do not like seeing you cower as if you’re afraid.”
And just like that, the tension shifts. I thought that, in coming here, I might have the upper hand. I knew with certainty that I didn’t want Uri, that I didn’t expect him or Sterling to help me or to care about my baby.
But I was so wrong, so foolish.
Because the upper hand does and always has belonged to Paxton.
He holds out his hand, and I only hesitate for a second before accepting it. Sparks fly between us, my body heating up from his touch, and he squeezes so gently to let me know he feels the same way.
Nobody makes a comment on my stolen jacket or the way I tighten it around myself as Paxton guides me to one of the empty chairs.
Oscar doesn’t offer me mine back, but when I slide into Uri’s previous seat, I don’t complain.
Of my two confirmed scent matches, only Uri’s scent is available for me to enjoy, and I won’t refuse it. Not when it’s calmed the turbulence inside me and eased my pregnancy symptoms.
In fact, I wouldn’t even know I was pregnant now.
“Good girl,” Paxton whispers before sitting down beside me. “Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head, looking down at my hands to avoid the intensity of their stares.
“I’ve got a blanket I can get you,” Oscar offers. “It probably smells like all of us.” My face scrunches up, and he laughs. “I’m sure your reaction was from fear, Emme, but I feel you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I cringe at the huskiness of my voice, the tell-tale sign that I’ve been crying.
“Oscar doesn’t do scents,” Uri says when Oscar just shrugs. “He’s quite sensitive to them, and certain scents agitate him a lot. You’ll find that when not at home, Oscar is completely scent-free so that he doesn’t carry any of his scent anywhere.”
“Do you know how often people steal scents?” Oscar asks, and based on the frustration in his voice, it’s clear this is a common annoyance of his. “You touch a door knob or brush shoulders with someone, and they carry around part of you all day long. They shake hands with someone, sharing your scent that much more, and it’s personal .
“My scent is mine. They don’t deserve it. They’ll ruin it, tainting it with their disgusting scent or let their unruly emotions dilute it and twist it. Imagine if I shook hands with a client who stole part of my scent, then I met them later on, and they’ve abused it?”
Oscar gags. “And don’t get me started on how disgusting other people smell. A mixture of nineteen different people, and it’s only breakfast time. It reveals who is unhygienic, who thinks that being fresh is a wasteful endeavour.
“It’s absolutely disgusting and should be outlawed?—”
“Who brought up the scents issue?” Sterling asks with a sigh as he enters the room. His eyes flicker to me, narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t comment on the jacket.
Instead, he places a tray on the table. It’s fine china, one they likely use for clients. The items are gorgeous, and I bite back the urge to ask where they got them from.
Or if I can have them.
Paxton pulls the tray towards himself as Sterling rounds the table to sit in between Oscar, who is at the head of the table, and Uri, who is directly opposite me.
“I did,” Uri admits with a laugh. “I didn’t expect him to go on this much about it, though, given our company.”
Oscar rolls his eyes. “Joke’s on you. I personally think everyone should understand it.” Oscar’s eyes are wide and full of innocence as he asks, “What do you think about it?”
“I do apologise for never thinking about it,” I offer, and he sighs. “I quite like scents, most of the time.”
Paxton laughs, gently placing a mug of tea in front of me. I don’t hesitate in sipping the hot liquid, unsurprised he’s mixed enough milk in to cool it. It’s sweet—honey, instead of sugar, I think.
It’s very nice.
“Omegas always do,” Oscar groans. “Lia’s the same way, and it’s so annoying.”
“Well, now that you’ve turned Oscar against you,” Sterling says dryly, “are we going to talk about the… baby in the room?”
I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m surrounded in Uri’s comforting scent or that I’ve already had an epic breakdown and lost their respect, but I straighten up in my seat, my confidence growing immensely.
I don’t give a fuck what they think now. They know of the baby, I achieved what I set out to do. Now, it doesn’t matter.
They can refuse me.
They can refuse our child— my child.
But I can at least sleep tonight knowing that this was their choice. I put my fate—my child’s fate—into their hands, and no matter what happens, I will stand by that decision.
“Smart move, Mr Carter.” I give him a cold look as I lean across the table, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. “It wouldn’t be wise to call the hormonal omega an elephant, would it?”
“I didn’t think it would, no.” His eyes lighten in amusement, but I don’t care.
Fuck him.
I look at Uri before settling on Paxton. I know who is in charge around here. “I want to make it clear that I don’t want anything from you—from any of you. I only wanted to make you aware.
“I’m content in surviving this pregnancy and raising my child alone. Your only obligation to me and my child will be to sign your rights away when they’re born.”
Silence.
It stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. A pause where I expect a fight, expect something—anything—to counter my words.
But nothing comes. All four men are dumbfounded. They say nothing. They do nothing. And for the first time, I feel nothing, too.
I push back my chair, and once more, the wheels roll softly and quietly, not disturbing the calm silence. My hands tremble, but I curl them into fists in Uri’s sleeves, pressing my nails into my palms to steady myself.
Uri and Paxton look up at me, but Sterling and Oscar don’t move. They don’t react, they don’t care.
“I don’t need your approval. I don’t need your opinions. I just needed you to know.”
My voice is quiet. Unshaken.
I lift my chin, meeting each of their unreadable expressions.
“And now you do.”
Without waiting for permission, without waiting for them to argue, I turn on my heel and walk out the door.
As I stride through Sterling’s office, my legs tremble, but I don’t hesitate, knowing that if they were to try and catch me, they only have until I open Sterling’s office door to do so without causing a scene.
One step.
Two steps.
The exit is in sight.
I grasp the handle, twisting forcefully so that I— slam .
The force of the hand against the wooden door makes me flinch, my fingers jolting off the handle. The air shifts, and I turn, carefully, warily.
My back presses against the door, and my gaze meets sharp hazel eyes.
My breathing falters.
The silence is deafening.
But the look on his face? Hungry.