Feeling the Heat, Part Two (Blossomverse Omegaverse #3)

Chapter 1

Pleading with hiring managers to convince them I’m a good fit for roles I’m vastly overqualified for isn’t how I envisioned my forties going. Then again, nothing has gone according to my reasonable and, frankly, mediocre expectations for my life.

Instead of continuing the status quo of going to work, coming home and rotting on my couch with a book, I was hiding my new designation at work.

Instead of avoiding thoughts of dating and my loneliness at all costs, I was courted by a pack of men who felt like they were ripped from my imagination.

And to top it all off, instead of getting to reap the benefits of over a decade of working my ass off for my employer, I got fired because a member of the aforementioned pack outed me as an omega.

So here I am, trapped in a stuffy conference room, fighting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down the back of my neck. Trying not to look too desperate to please as the beta hiring manager looks up from scanning my resume for the third time.

The smile the woman almost half my age gives me as she sets the paper down is pitying.

Guilty. It’s the look of someone who already knows they won’t hire me, and who also knows their reason is bullshit.

I like that look even less than outright disdain for me being an omega daring to interview for a high-pressure job.

Dammit. So much for hoping this fledgling firm would look past my designation for the sake of hiring someone with my considerable professional connections and experience.

I plaster on my best placid smile as I go through the motions of the interview, knowing the decision was made before I stepped foot in the building.

When I first started my job hunt, I tried to change their minds.

Laid on the charm and used my best tactics to sell my abilities.

I addressed the elephant in the room, letting them know I understand my designation isn’t common for the role, but went on to explain in detail how it won’t impact my work.

Hell, once I resorted to listing off some high-profile omega politicians who show it’s possible for omegas to remain calm under pressure.

None of it mattered.

They see the fact that I revealed as an omega and subsequently got fired from my previous position a few months later as irrefutable proof I can’t do the job.

Why do they bother bringing me in? It’s a waste of everyone’s time.

My best guess is they have to meet some kind of diversity quota for job candidates.

They bring me in to go through the charade of pretending they didn’t immediately put me in the “no” pile when they saw my designation so they can claim they have inclusive hiring practices.

I mentally check out until the beta across from me gives me another one of those damn pitying smiles and pushes back from the table. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Clairmont. We’ll be in touch.”

“No, you won’t,” I mumble under my breath as I stand, my omega too overheated and frustrated to care if she hears me.

What’s the point of trying to seem professional when everyone automatically assumes I’m fragile and needy?

I squirm out of my blazer as I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, ignoring the glare of distaste from the beta sharing the space with me. I fan myself and mutter under my breath about how everything is bullshit, I’m tired of this, and that I should’ve stayed home in my nest.

By the time I’ve made it out of the building, I’ve cooled down a bit.

The one good thing about dealing with interview after interview is that I’ve gotten better at regulating my omega’s reaction to things.

It’s also shown me that, nine times out of ten, even if her reactions and instincts annoy me, they’re correct.

I’ve spent so much of my life pushing away emotional reactions and gut instincts for the sake of being logical.

Shoving down what my body was trying to tell me and turning every red flag into a sign I’m being irrational and need to calm down.

I’m tired of being calm. I’m tired of doing everything I can to prove to others that I’m enough. Where has that gotten me?

With my job gone, I’m lost. The only things I have left are my brother and dad who I rarely get to see, and my best friend, Astrid. I whittled my life down, keeping people out in order for my life to stay “calm”.

I’ll also literally lose my apartment if I don’t get a job soon. My emergency fund is drying up quickly between the astronomical cost of getting heat suppressants while uninsured and paying my rent.

I glance at the clock on my phone to see if there’s enough time for me to grab a pity scone before my next interview. Unfortunately, that’ll make me late, so I sigh as I walk past the bakery and promise my omega consolation pastries when I get home.

Part of me thinks I should cancel my next interview and get started with my pity party right away. I’m tired and pissy, and I’ve been dreading this interview since they reached out to me. But I can’t afford to skip it.

This is my last chance. I’ve applied to—and gotten rejected by—every PR firm within a fifty-mile radius. The prospect of moving makes me want to curl up in my nest and never leave.

Nothing like going into a job interview with that level of pressure and desperation.

The only glimmer of hope is that they contacted me.

They knew about my designation and reached out anyway.

It’s not ideal, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I just hope I don’t have to stoop to extreme groveling to secure the role.

“Camille! It’s so good to see you again.

” Alex smiles warmly as he meets me in DesigNation’s reception area.

The lanky alpha’s enthusiasm startles me, and I smile back as best I can while he gives me a vigorous handshake.

Apparently, either Alex hasn’t gotten the memo that I’m an omega, or he doesn’t treat them like they’re made of glass.

Praying that it’s the latter, I follow him into a sunny conference room, where he gestures for me to take a seat. I watch him warily, but his posture is relaxed. Oddly enough, he seems thrilled that I’m here, which I have to assume means he’s desperate for my help.

Huh, this might actually work. Not that I want to work with DesigNation’s perverted, omega-harassing CEO again, but I don’t have a choice.

I mentally weigh the merits of playing it cool and pretending like I’m not as eager to get a job as they are to have me working for them, as Alex offers me a glass of water.

“Thanks so much for fitting us into your schedule,” Alex says, smiling broadly again. “When you left Pulse PR, it was a big loss for us.”

“Are things really that bad?” I ask bluntly. I should’ve kept that thought to myself, but the reception I’m getting is throwing me off-kilter.

Alex chuckles and shakes his head. “Let’s just say it could be a lot better if we had you on our side again.

Mr. Diaz is going to continue being his…

colorful self no matter how hard we try to persuade him otherwise.

With the frequency of his indiscretions, we’ve decided to move our PR efforts into an in-house position.

You’ve already proved you’re up to the challenge, and we’d love to offer that role to you. ”

I blink at Alex, and a long moment passes before my brain catches up and realizes he’s offering me a job, on the spot, without an interview or an interrogation about what went down at Pulse. He hasn’t mentioned my designation at all.

Is it possible he didn’t read over my resume?

My stomach clenches, and I really don’t want to bring it up because I need this job, but I’m not about to repeat the fiasco that happened when I didn’t disclose my new designation to my previous employer.

“I’m definitely interested in working with DesigNation again, and appreciate that I’m your top choice for the role—”

“Oh, thank God.” Alex lets out a relieved exhale, cutting me off before I can continue.

“We can match whatever Pulse was paying you, plus we have a fantastic benefits package and healthcare. Just please say you’ll help us out, Camille.

I’m drowning here trying to handle it on my own.

The guy they pawned off on us after you left Pulse was incompetent.

I force a laugh. “That’s a very generous offer. However, I do need to inform you that my circumstances have changed.”

Alex’s grin falls. “Dammit, did you already accept another offer? We can offer twenty percent more on top of what they’re offering. Hell, I could probably get it up to thirty.”

Wow, it must really be bad.

“No, but, uh, you know I’m an omega now, right? You saw that on my resume?”

I expect Alex to blanch, but his smile returns, and he nods emphatically. “Yes! It’s not a problem. Honestly, having a PR head who is an omega will be a great PR boost on its own.”

I raise an eyebrow at his assessment, and he grimaces, waving his hand. “That’s not why we want you. It’s your proven skill managing our unique challenges that we want. The optics of you being an omega are just a bonus.”

I search his face for any hint of insincerity or alternate motives. Alex has always been friendly and professional, but he’s also an alpha, so my omega is wary. And even if he turns out to be as harmless as he seems, what about their pervy CEO?

“Does Mr. Diaz know?” A sick sensation roils in my gut. “Is that why you want to hire me?”

“Absolutely not! Mr. Diaz is aware of your designation, but I can assure you he wants to hire you for strictly professional reasons.”

I’m not sure if I believe him, but what other options do I have?

“Alright. That’s good.”

Alex leans forward a bit, and my omega bristles, but I stay still, reminding myself it’s not a threatening posture, it’s a sign of his eagerness. “So you’ll consider the role?”

I take a moment to pretend I’m thinking about it, then nod. “When would you want me to start?”

“Now!” Alex says with a laugh. “Or as soon as you can. No rush. But also maybe a bit of a rush. Mr. Diaz is on vacation right now, so that means we’re on the verge of another shitstorm at any moment.”

He says it flippantly, but it’s clearly an actual concern. For the first time, I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the premature greying at his temples. “How do you deal with it? How does it not get to you?”

He leans back and sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“I won’t lie. It’s exhausting. I know I should try to put a rosy spin on it, but you’ve already seen how much of a mess he can create.

I stay because I care about DesigNation’s mission.

The work we do here is important. It changes lives.

Do I wish our CEO wasn’t an omega-harassing creep?

Of course. But there’s no company without him. ”

It’s reassuring to know that at least Alex cares. “I’m sure the benefits package doesn’t hurt either,” I say with a small smile.

“Hah! Yeah, not at all.”

A mix of trepidation, dread, and relief washes over me. “Alright. I need to think about it, but if you email the offer for me to look over, I’ll get back to you within a few days.”

This is by no means ideal, but it’s a job. One where I’m valued and well-compensated. I may have told Alex I need to think about it, but there’s no doubt in my mind I’m taking this job.

I watch my email like a hawk as soon as I get home, waiting for the job offer.

Alex said it was a done deal, but all the rejections have made me paranoid.

I stress bake muffins and eat three as I sit in front of the television trying to distract myself with one of my comfort movies.

The email finally pops up at 7pm, my stomach jolting at the ping of the new message notification.

I swipe open my email app, frowning when I see there’s no attachment.

My stomach sinks as I read the email.

Camille,

Thank you so much for meeting with me today. I don’t know how to say this, but we won’t be able to offer you a position at DesigNation.

There’s an article on Alpha Net that has gained traction over the past few days. One we weren’t aware of until after your interview. I’ve provided the link in case you’re also unaware of it.

I feel sick writing this, and while you have no reason to believe me, I tried to advocate on your behalf.

Mr. Diaz is adamant that he doesn’t want to associate the DesigNation brand with the discourse on this subject.

I can’t express any more of my thoughts here, but if you’d like to discuss this with me privately, I’ve provided my personal contact information below.

Again, I’m truly sorry that we won’t be working together again. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.

Sincerely,

Alex Montgomery

Dread courses through me as I read, then re-read the email. The link stands out to me like a beacon. What could it possibly be? I’m terrified to click on it, but confusion and worry win out.

I gasp as the page loads and I’m confronted with my Pulse PR website headshot, and a giant headline.

Designation Deception: Omega Lies Create a Dangerous Workplace

What. The. Fuck.

I close the link before I can read any more, heart racing.

I can’t believe this. Did I do something to cosmically piss off the universe?

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat and open the link again, scrolling further down. I can’t focus enough through the pounding of my heart to read it, but words pop out at me.

Old Omega.

Omegas make the workplace toxic.

Got what she deserved.

More regulation of designation.

At the bottom, it shows how many likes and comments the article has gotten.

22.4k likes and 400 comments.

Oh god. A whine tears out of me, and I drop my phone, then stumble into my nest and burrow under the blankets.

Tears spill down my cheeks as I futilely try to soothe myself.

I dig out the t-shirt I’ve had wedged in my pillowcase for months, pressing it to my nose in a pathetic attempt to get a hint of Jackson’s long-faded scent.

It’s a good thing I left my phone in the other room, because the urge to call him or Ambrose and beg for them to come hold me is overwhelming.

A rough sob punches out of me as grief from losing their pack mingles with everything else crushing me.

I’m a pathetic old omega who is the laughingstock of the internet, with no job prospects and nowhere to turn.

I cry until I pass out, my omega whining over and over for someone to save me, even though I know I’m on my own.