32. Emmeline
32
Emmeline
I f I keep moving, I don’t have to feel.
That’s the rule I’ve lived by for the last three days now.
Keep busy. Keep focused. It’ll kept the ache at bay.
But sadly, the ache doesn’t care about my calendar, or the upcoming meeting I have today with my boss, and the biggest cause of my upset.
Oscar Remington.
My scent match. My mate.
And the man I genuinely thought I was falling for.
Why did I let him fool me? Why did I lower my barriers and let him in?
I’m an idiot.
I knew that this was all too good to be true, and yet I was stupid enough to let myself pretend.
I’m pathetic.
Weak.
An obvious omega who lets her hormones rule her brain.
I’ve spent the last three days hiding. Working late, working early, just working constantly. I’ve been pretending I’m okay as Uri joins me for lunch and dinner every day to make sure I eat. I won’t let on how much I’m struggling, no matter how often he prods.
I’ve worn the jumpers and jackets that Sterling has dropped off, without saying a real word. He hasn’t tried to push me, hasn’t forced anything out of me. And yet, a small, pathetic part of me wishes that he would.
Paxton’s been just as busy as I have, but I know that the gifts that keep turning up are from him, and our courtship. But does that even count anymore, when Oscar’s destroyed me so badly? The roses that sit in the beautiful vase on my desk that constantly whisper how foolish I was. The silver stud earrings that weigh me down more than my horrid thoughts.
I’m a mess.
It doesn’t help that Oscar’s hidden from me entirely since the HR meeting. He clearly knows what he did, and that I’m not happy about it.
I don’t blame him for hiding—not really. I’m angry, hurt, and so upset.
What makes all of this worse, is that really, Oscar isn’t to blame. I should’ve expected this. They’re my bosses, and this is their entire business on the line. Oscar has Odelia to worry about, and if I destroyed their credibility… I’d never forgive myself for the damage it could cause to her too.
So why then am I so angry?
If I can understand why he did it, why does it hurt? Why am I so heartbroken? Why is my pain so harrowing?
“Emme,” Brenda calls. I startle, and glance up at my open door with a guilty look on my face. My assistant is standing in the doorway, and there’s an uneasy look on her face.
Her grey hair is cut into a short bob that only reaches her chin, and her honeyed-amber eyes are narrowed as she takes me in.
“Are you okay, love?” she asks, approaching my desk hesitantly. “You seem upset.”
I wonder what gave it away—the darkness in my scent, or the tears dripping down my cheeks.
I laugh, hoping she doesn’t realise how brittle it is. “Hormones. I was just watching this campaign video and there was two young girls who were playing together. It was so… sweet.”
What a terrible lie. Could my brain not even spring for cute puppies or adorable penguins? I went with children playing?
Fuck me, I’m more transparent than a sheet of glass.
Brenda immediately laughs, nodding her head. “I remember those days. Then again, my grandkids are more often fighting each other more than playing nicely, so I bet that video would make me cry too.”
My laughter is more authentic this time. “With so many of them, I’m not surprised.”
“Soon enough, you’ll have your little one running rings around you,” she says, whimsically.
A wistful feeling fills me, and I smile down at my tummy. I rest my hands on the small bump I have, still not sure if it’s bloat, or evidence of the pregnancy.
The fact that Brenda knows about my pregnancy is a sore subject. I was right—by the time I made it back inside on Tuesday, everyone and their pack knew that we’re expecting.
Paxton’s given an interview requesting privacy, and thankfully, my name has been kept out of the media so far. I’ve been quiet when the topic arises, much to Paxton’s frustration, but none of my mates have pushed me.
Thankfully.
“Well, I was coming down to let you know that your meeting with Mr Remington has been cancelled.”
“Oscar cancelled our meeting?” I ask, not sure how this makes me feel. Did he cancel out of guilt? Or because he was busy?
Did he care about how not telling me himself would make me feel?
“No. Mr Sinclair did,” Brenda says. “He’s requested you meet him down in the foyer, as he needs your assistance with another client. He’s asked me to pass this folder over to you so that you can prepare.”
She places a grey folder on my desk that I hadn’t even realised she was carrying. As someone who is usually observant, that’s another failure that can be marked on my life chart.
“Thank you. Could you do me a favour and rearrange that meeting with Oscar, please? I need to finalise the budget for the campaign for Garret,” I say and she nods her head.
“Of course,” Brenda says gently, already pulling up her tablet. I was initially worried when I met her, due to her age, but I sharp realised how much knowledge she has.
She’s indispensable, and knows this department almost as well as I do.
“Would you like me to see if we can arrange something for Monday, or would later in the week be okay?”
“Monday morning, if possible. I want it done before the vendor call with Dare & Co. at eleven. If not, I’ll see if Uri can chase it up for me.”
“Got it. And—sorry to add more to your plate—but the approvals for the Leighton rebrand are still sitting in your inbox. The agency followed up again this morning.”
I sigh, already feeling the press of tasks tighten around my throat. I had fully prepared for being off from my heat, and yet somehow, my plate was overflowing the moment I got back.
Even with all my extra overtime over the last few days, I’m still behind.
“Okay. I’ll review those after I look through this folder.” I give her a tight smile, hoping that the scent neutraliser actually hides my frustration.
“And... the soundstage booking for next week’s shoot still needs sign-off. I know that Uri said to fast-track it, but Legal haven’t cleared the risk waiver yet, so if you could chase that?—”
“I’ll chase Legal,” I murmur, rubbing my temples. The headache that’s here is more from the baby, than stress, but neither is helping. “Anything else?”
Brenda hesitates, glancing at her tablet, before giving me a grimace. “The post-production schedule for the upcoming campaign was flagged by Felix. He says the new cuts you requested will throw off the timeline unless we bring in another editor.”
“We don’t have budget for that,” I mutter, reaching for my keyboard to find the email he sent on that. “Unless Oscar miraculously finds us extra money, we’re going to have to cut something else then.”
Brenda offers a small, sympathetic shrug. “I’ll warn Felix to prep for overtime, but it’s unavoidable I’m afraid.”
The joys of working with demanding omega models, and having an entire staff full of alphas who are biologically required to bend to their every whim.
Maybe if companies hired more omegas, they’d not lose upwards of 10 grand per budget for frivolous luxuries. I quickly email Felix, and make sure to CC Brenda in on the email, just in case.
“Do me a favour and tell… what’s her name? The new omega in the design team?”
Brenda’s brow furrows. “There’s a new omega?”
I nod, searching for the email I received from her a few days ago. “There she is. Cassidy. She seems nice, but I’ve not yet met her in person. Anyways, sorry, can you please email her and let her know that I’ll be reviewing the designs, and will sign off on the packaging mock-ups this afternoon.”
“Consider it done.” Brenda gives me a tight smile. “Anything else?”
Just my heart falling apart in the background.
“No. That’s everything.”
She nods, and heads out, closing my door behind her. I look up at the clock above it, my heart racing so much faster than the second hand.
My meeting with Oscar was meant to be in an hour and a half, so I’ve got eighty minutes to deal with my giant task list, learn whatever I need to from this folder Paxton has sent, and get my face to cooperate before I go join my mate for a business outing.
That’s doable, right?
I open the grey folder and flick through the first page without seeing a word of it. Tears blur my vision, and I can barely breathe through the emotional pain.
The doctor wasn’t lying when she said that I’d feel things far more intensely. I never thought that being a pregnant omega would come with the loss of my control—not after how long I’ve perfected it.
I take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, and start typing out a memo. I can do this. I can function. I can pretend. What’s another ninety minutes after three whole days of this?
There’s a soft knock at my door, and I don’t need to look up to know who it is. Each breath comes with a kick of spicy cinnamon and sweet vanilla. The perfect contradiction.
My heart beats faster. My mind clears. My tummy flutters.
And my scent perfumes, filling my office, no longer able to be contained by the scent neutraliser I put on this morning.
I can’t deny my reaction to my alpha—even if I wanted to.
“Now that’s a welcome reaction,” Paxton says, and if it wasn’t for the careful edge to his tone, I’d think he was excited to see me.
But he’s wary.
“You cancelled my meeting with Oscar,” I say, not looking up at my boss.
Sure, Paxton’s the CEO of my company, but right now, he’s nothing more than the alpha who has helped hurt me.
I don’t need to be as careful as he’s being. He’d never physically hurt me.
“I don’t think that meeting would benefit either you or Oscar right now.”
I frown, trying to calm my frustration. “I can function as an employee, just fine. I wouldn’t have caused any drama or?—”
“The fact that you’re immediately on the defensive here, little treasure, shows that something is bothering you, despite how many times you’ve argued otherwise,” he says.
His tone of voice is so matter of fact, and it infuriates me. I know that it’s an illogical reaction, but I genuinely want to just scream, and let some of this pent up annoyance escape.
“We’ll have time to talk about this later. For now, we’ve got a car waiting for us.”
I bite my lip, eyeing up the casual way he’s dressed. A white jumper, and a pair of suit pants. He looks far too attractive for my liking.
Oh, who are you trying to kid Emme? He looks like sex on a stick and the slick pooling in your panties is all the evidence that you love it.
But for once, he’s not in a full-suit when at work, and I get the feeling I’m being set up.
If we’re meeting clients, why is he not dressed to impress?
“Is this really a business meeting?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at my far too beautiful mate.
He smirks, and his scent becomes stronger. Harder to resist.
“Didn’t you get the file I sent?” he asks.
I raise a brow. “I wouldn’t put it past you to get me to read a fake file, just to trick me into coming out with you.”
He groans, but there’s also amusement etched into his far-too handsome face. His eyes light up, and I notice a dimple on his left cheek. “You’re funny, and I’m sure that’s a plan I’ll keep in my back pocket for a different day, but no, there really is a meeting that I’d like you to attend.”
“Fair enough.”
He reaches out for my hand, helping me up from my chair. He squeezes as he tugs me up, and I immediately step forward to wrap my arms around him.
This is the closest we’ve been in a few days, and the urge to break down and cry, and to reveal all my fears and my hurt, is hard to ignore. Especially when his chest starts vibrating underneath me, an encouragement from my alpha to be honest with him.
“You’re okay, little treasure,” he soothes, brushing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “We’ll get through this meeting, then we can talk, okay?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I lie, sniffling as I pull back from our hug.
Paxton doesn’t push, instead he nods. “If you say so. You ready?”
“Ready.”
My voice might be instilled with fake confidence, but there’s not a single doubt in my mind that I’m lying to him. Am I really ready to spend the next however long sitting with him, pretending that he doesn’t pretending he doesn’t still make my knees weak, my scent spike, and my brain betray me with fantasies I have no business indulging right now?
Especially knowing the conversation we’re going to have afterwards… fuck , I’m just not strong enough.
“ I
can’t believe you,” I gasp, staring up at Paxton in shock. Our clients from the Brighter Futures Foundation left only a few minutes ago, and we’re waiting for the car to arrive to pick us up.
But I’m still running on adrenaline, my mind on a true high from the seven-figure partnership that we’ve just landed. Paxton’s a fucking genius, and honestly, if we weren’t in public, I’d be extremely tempted to lay him flat, and show him exactly how appreciative I am of his finesse.
Not that I’d ever admit that out loud, though.
“You were the right woman for the job, Emme,” he says, softly. “Nobody could’ve closed that like you did.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter me.”
I don’t know how badly he thinks they’ve fucked up—if this is the reward he’s offering—but the Brighter Futures Foundation just named me as their direct contact for the campaign.
We’ve secured a full creative partnership to work with them on rebranding and relaunching their omega-led arts programme across the entirety of the UK.
It’s mine. Completely and utterly mine . My project. My team. My budget. My direction.
I’m so excited that even during the meeting, I couldn’t contain my usual omega reactions. Every excited squeal, and purr, that usually I’d smother just… ran free.
Paxton grips my chin, tilting my head up to look at him properly.
“I’m not flattering you. You’re my mate,” he says, his voice low and sure. “And I vow to give you the opportunity to orchestrate every single success that you want to reach your dreams. I’ve been trying to secure this deal for the last few months now, but I couldn’t. They needed you .”
“Me?” I ask, my voice small. A pang of surprise blooms low in my tummy.
He nods. “You ran a campaign a few years ago, for the diversity initiative in fashion. I saw how passionately you fought to spotlight omega creatives.
“You built something real—something that mattered. That campaign didn’t just win awards. On the financials side, it doubled their income over the last two years. I was told you were the one who pushed for that entire angle.
“I knew that if I could get you in that room today, that you’d show them exactly why they needed you .”
He pauses, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Does it hurt that I got to sit there and watch you in your element? No. Not one bit.
“But this deal… it happened because of you . And I never doubted that for a second.”
I shiver under the warm intensity of his gaze, and before I can do something stupid like proclaim my love, or knock him backwards as I straddle him, his phone buzzes, altering us that the car is here.
I lace my fingers through his, as he leads us through the busy restaurant, and I don’t say a word as we situate ourselves in the back of the car. There’s a privacy divide that’s already up, so I don’t see our driver, and based on Pax’s ease, I can’t tell if that’s the norm for him, or if he’s arranged it deliberately.
It’s time for our talk .
Paxton reaches over me, and pulls my seatbelt into place. His touch lingers, his scent wafting over me in a tempting way.
He’s gorgeous, and so careful with me, like I’m something delicate. Something precious.
His hand lingers on the seatbelt buckle for a second too long before he finally lets go, but he doesn’t move away.
Instead, he stays close. Quiet. It would be nice, if it wasn’t for the tension thrumming through me. I’ve spent the last three days anxiously holding onto anger and resentment to the four of them for messing with my job, my career, my entire life.
From as young as I can remember, I’ve worked to earn the right to be seen as capable as an alpha—as a man. For them to mess with my job without asking? To take all of that away from me?
It’s incomprehensible. It’s infuriating.
It’s everything I feared would happen as soon as I let my guard down, and let an alpha in. It’s one of the biggest reasons I’ve pushed against having a pack in the first place.
Against letting anyone close.
Alphas, men, friends… all they do is hurt you. Take from you. Doubt you.
I’m a professional omega in an alpha’s world, and there’s never going to be room for me to shine.
I fiddle with the hem of my sleeve, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he’s clearly waiting for me to start this discussion.
Or maybe he’s just as lost in thought as I am.
“You said we’d talk,” I murmur, looking out of the window, so I don’t have to face him directly. I can see the outline of his face, and body, in the window, just a slight reflection.
“I did.” He shifts to face me better, and I can see his face more clearly now. “I’ve got a lot I want to say. But I want to start with this—I’m sorry.”
I gasp, snapping my head to look at him, ignoring the rule I’ve just put in place. My brows furrow. “You didn’t do anything. Not really.”
“Not directly, no, but it’s my job to reign Oscar in,” Paxton says.
“How did you?—”
“It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, little treasure. You’re trusting us and relying on us before the HR meeting, but the moment you’re out of it, you’re full of tension and anxiety? Anger and resentment?”
I blink back tears, my gaze dropping to his chin, because I can’t face the disappointment that I’m sure to find there.
“Uri checked with HR, and the omega wouldn’t tell us why you were there, so I investigated. Your file was changed triggering a review.”
I nod, meekly. I want to protest at him calling Millie ‘the omega’, but now isn’t the time. It’s part of the problem that omega’s have in the workplace though.
We’re not seen as more than our designation.
Down in fashion, the omega models are revered. They’re treated like princes and princesses, fawned over and their every need met before it can be voiced. They’re doing what omegas do—look pretty, make demands, and have the spotlight on them.
But up here, in the corporate world? We’re seen as nothing more than little girls playing dress up in daddy’s clothes. Silly, fickle, people with vague ideas of what true success is.
It’s a joke. We’re a joke.
“I had a meeting on Wednesday, as did Oscar, Uri and Sterling. They wanted to verify our relationship. That’s when Oscar told us what he did,” Paxton says, with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t think to warn him against doing that, because I never once considered he would.”
“I don’t understand why he did.”
Paxton rubs the back of his neck. “This is going to sound like an excuse, but I need you to understand that it’s not meant to be one. Oscar… he sees the world differently than you and I do, Emme. You’ve been extremely understanding of the struggles he has due to his autism, and this is another one of them.
“Company policy dictates our relationship must be disclosed, therefore, he disclosed it. In his mind, it’s that simple. He’s so logical, that sometimes he forgets that emotions are a thing, and that his actions would come with consequences.
“He didn’t mean to hurt you?—”
“I know that,” I interject. “I know he probably thought he was helping, or maybe even that he was protecting you all, should things go awry. I know that. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t undo the damage that’s been caused.”
Paxton nods slowly, and that’s what breaks me. Because he’s listening, but he doesn’t get it.
He can’t. It’s not his fault, but he’s grown up with so much privilege, that he’ll never understand the way I live, because it’s so different from his own reality.
“Do you know what it’s like,” I ask, my voice tight with pain, “to spend your entire life trying to prove that you’re capable? That you’re worthy of being taken seriously?”
He doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect him to.
“My dads… they love me, but they don’t respect me. They don’t think I’m actually capable, or as good as my brother. To them, I was written off the day I presented as an omega. Sure, I was given the best childhood I could’ve asked for.
“I never longed for anything, never lacked care, or attention. But they never understood why I didn’t want to just settle down and give them grandkids. They’ve been desperate for me to play house, and just find stability.”
Paxton reaches over and wipes the tear my cheek.
“With my mum, I get it. They’re terrified I’ll end up just like her. And they resent it—they resent me. They don’t understand why I’d choose a career over courtship. Whenever Evander got a promotion, or celebrated a work win, they were so excited for him.
“But me? They’d ask if it meant I could cut back on hours, or finally stop working altogether. They’d put the doubt in me, that this was the best I’d ever get, and maybe I just need to find a pack and finally settle down.
“I like to believe that they don’t mean to belittle me, but they’ve never once believed that I was worth anything. That the most I could amount to is being an alive mother to my children.”
Paxton’s gaze sharpens, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not now that the damn has been broken open.
“Do you know how it feels to be seen as fragile and incapable your whole life? To spend your entire career walking a tight-rope, to be doubted every time you enter a room? And then finally, finally , carve out a place for yourself in the world. I start to succeed, and then one of the people I’m starting trust—the people I love —decides to take that from me. He decides for me because I can’t be trusted to decide for myself.”
Silence.
“The second Oscar decided to do that for me, he reminded me that no matter how competent I am, how hard I’ve worked… that I’m still just a weak omega. As soon as I get an alpha, that’s it. I’m no longer me , and I’m someone else’s responsibility—someone else’s property.”
My voice cracks, and the tears free fall. Paxton wraps his arms around me the best he can despite our seatbelts.
“You felt powerless.” His breathing is tight, but his control is tighter.
“I was powerless,” I whisper. “And that’s my greatest fear.”
He’s silent, as I do my best to compose myself. He holds me, his chest vibrating, low growls and soft touches. But he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t force me to be quiet and listen.
He gives me the space to feel how I feel, and that’s a gift I appreciate.
“I understand.” He tightens his grip on me. “It was never about revealing our relationship, but about what it represents.”
“Exactly.” I wipe my tears. “No matter how hard I work, how competent I am, how valuable I make myself… the second I became your mate, I stopped mattering outside of that.”
His face twists. “That’s not how we see you.”
“I know that. But it doesn’t matter, because that’s how the world sees me now.”
He exhales so sharply, and it’s like I’ve winded him. The car rocks slightly as we hit a bump in the road, but Paxton tightens his hold, anchoring me.
“I can’t promise he’ll understand it,” Pax says gently, “not the way you need. But I do. And I swear to you—we’ll never make that mistake again.”
“I don’t want to be protected. I just want to be respected .”
“You deserve that. You’ll have that.” His tone leaves no room for doubt. “I can’t promise Oscar will understand why it hurt the way it did. But I can promise we’ll all be better. And we’ll never make that mistake again.
“None of us are ever going to get in your way again. As long as what you’re doing doesn’t harm you or the baby. That’s our line. Beyond that? We’re here to support you with whatever you need.”
I nod, my throat too thick to speak.
“I love you, and that’s all that matters to me now,” he says, and I sniffle, resting my head against him. “Don’t say it back. Don’t do anything. Just rest.”
The car hums around us. Safe. Still. Quiet. It’s nice, and I let my body fully relax against his. His scent soothes me in a way I’ve been denying my body over the last few days.
“I think we need a conversation. A real one. All of us,” I manage to whisper. He arches a brow. “We need to talk, lay everything out… define what this is. Our relationship, our courtship, our pack. I can’t keep doing the half-in, unsure thing.”
I could blame hormones. I could blame my anxiety. But I know that the actions of the last few days, of pushing them away and punishing myself… this was me. My fault. My issue.
Uri sent me a list of psychiatrists last night, and I think it’s time for me to pick one.
A slow smile spreads cross Paxton’s face. “I’ll book us somewhere private.”