Chapter 15 Nicholas
Nicholas
The conference table in Lorenzo’s office is a repurposed door balanced on two filing cabinets.
I’ve sat across negotiating tables worth more than this building, mahogany surfaces in corner offices with harbor views, attorneys billing four hundred an hour, and clients who treated a handshake as ironclad.
None of those tables taught me anything about the people around them. This one tells me everything.
The door is solid oak, salvaged but with history to it, dents and knicks that speak to use rather than just for show.
The filing cabinets don’t match: one’s black, the other gray, and the gray one has a dent near the bottom drawer that looks like someone kicked it.
Oliver, probably. On the surface, Lorenzo’s documents are arranged in neat stacks, each folder labeled in handwriting so precise it could be typeset.
“The lease challenge needs to go through commercial arbitration.” I slide the document across the door.
“Voss structured the increase to look market-justified, but the comps don’t support it.
Every comparable property on the boardwalk is renting at twelve to fifteen percent below what he’s charging you, even before the new terms.”
Lorenzo picks up the pages and scans them. “You pulled the comps yourself?”
“This morning. My attorney is reviewing them now, but the pattern is clear. Voss has been overcharging since the original lease. The thirty-two percent increase sits on an already inflated foundation.”
Oliver leans forward. “So we can fight it?”
“You can win it. The arbitration filing alone will freeze the new terms while the case is reviewed. That buys you six months minimum.” I pull another folder from my bag.
“I’ve also drafted a counter-proposal for the common-area fees.
The boardwalk improvement assessment is a surcharge he invented.
There’s no precedent for it in any of the other tenant leases. ”
“How do you know what’s in the other tenant leases?” Wilson’s voice cuts across the room from the doorway, flat and careful.
I look up. “Public filings. Commercial leases in this district are recorded with the county. Anyone can pull them.” I meet his eyes. “I pulled all of them.”
I watch Wilson’s jaw work as his gaze drops to the folders on the table, the stacks of research, the hours of work spread across Lorenzo’s salvaged door. Something flickers across his expression, but he smothers it before it fully forms.
“Next steps,” Lorenzo says, setting the document down in front of me. “What do you need from us?”
“Access to your financial records for the last three years. I need to build the operating history to support the arbitration claim. And I need to meet with your attorney to coordinate the filing.”
“We don’t have an attorney,” Oliver blurts out, the admission as casual and embarrassing as revealing the lack of a second car.
“You do now. Margaux Chen, commercial real estate. She’s the best in the district, and she owes me a favor.” I slide a business card across the table. “She’s expecting your call.”
Lorenzo picks up the card, his thumb tracing its edge.
His posture, which was rigid when I arrived, has softened, the tension draining from his spine.
Recognition glints in his eyes where there’d been calculation.
Oliver can’t hide it. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks ache, foot tapping against the chair leg with barely contained energy.
“This is—” Oliver starts.
“A good start,” Lorenzo finishes. He stands, straightening his cuffs. “Oliver, get Wilson a coffee. He’s been standing against that wall for an hour and he hasn’t blinked.”
“I blinked,” Wilson mutters.
“Barely.” Lorenzo’s mouth twitches. “Nicholas, stay a minute?”
I watch Oliver grab Wilson’s arm and tow him out of the office, chattering about the espresso machine he’s been trying to convince Lorenzo to buy. Wilson’s protest fades down the hallway, the sound disappearing the moment the door falls shut.
Lorenzo settles back into his chair. The pink suit he wears should look absurd in this cramped office of salvaged furniture and dented filing cabinets, but it doesn’t. He wears authority the way other people wear cologne. It precedes him into the room regardless of what he’s wearing.
“Thank you for the work.” His voice changes with the room empty, the performance stripped away. “The comps, the attorney, the counter-proposal. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
I shrug. “I wanted to.”
He leans forward. “I know. That’s what concerns me.” His fingers lace together on the table. “Nicholas, I don’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to. So, I’m going to ask you something directly, and I’d appreciate the same in return.”
I meet his gaze. “Ask.”
He fixes his eyes on me. “What are your intentions with Wilson?”
The question lands, a simple, direct thing that requires a similar response. Lorenzo’s eyes stay steady on my face, his expression carrying nothing except the focused attention of a man who protects what’s his.
I take my glasses off and wipe the lenses on my shirt, the nervous gesture buying me a few seconds.
“I’ve been in love with Wilson since I was twenty-four years old.
” The words come out plain without any drama or embellishment, my emotional range distilled into a sentence that costs everything to say.
“I was in love with him before my brother claimed him. I was in love with him during the years Sebastian had him. And I’ve been in love with him for the two years since he disappeared. ”
His expression doesn’t change, obviously waiting for the full story. I’ve never answered to a Beta before but with Lorenzo, I don’t feel disrespected. I feel like he’s asking me to prove myself to someone he’s already taken under his wing.
“Sebastian took Wilson from me deliberately. My brother and I have a history that predates Wilson by a long time, but Wilson became the sharpest weapon Sebastian ever used against me.” I trace the edge of the table with my thumb, feeling the smooth wood putty where the handle used to be.
“Sebastian saw how I looked at Wilson. He catalogued it the way he catalogues everything he plans to use. And then he charmed Wilson into a bond before I could—”
Before I could what? Claim him first? Beat my brother to a bite? The truth is uglier. I was slow because I was being careful. I was giving Wilson time to trust me, time to choose, time to be sure. Sebastian saw that patience and exploited the gap.
“The nights Sebastian invited me into their bed were calculated.” My voice stays level, though I’ll pay the cost of that later, alone in my apartment with a glass of bourbon.
“Sebastian wanted to remind me of what he’d taken.
And I went because Wilson was there and my body has never been able to refuse Wilson.
Every time, I told myself it was just physical for him, that I was a novelty.
Sebastian’s brother in his brother’s bed. ”
His chin dips a fraction to show that he’s listening.
“I found out two years ago that Wilson had the bite removed. Sebastian called me at two a.m., drunk and furious, raging about Wilson going behind his back. That’s how I learned Wilson was free.
” My thumb stills on the wood putty at the shock on Lorenzo’s face.
Fuck, Wilson probably hadn’t explained that but it’s out now.
“I waited for him to come to me. For two years I orbited the edges of his old life, hoping he’d surface, telling myself that patience was respect when the truth is that I was terrified.
Terrified that if I reached for him, I’d look like Sebastian, that wanting someone who’d just escaped a controlling Alpha would make me the same thing my brother is. ”
Lorenzo leans forward just a little more, his head tilting to the side. His scent softens slightly, encouraging me to continue.
“I had no idea Wilson was here until I walked in for my shift last week and saw him behind the bar. I thought I was imagining it.”
Lorenzo’s jaw shifts, the first sign of reaction since we started talking.
“And your intentions? Because my first priority is to protect him, regardless of your investment.” I open my mouth to say something but he just shakes his head.
“I know what we both want but I want to make sure it’s good for the people it would hurt the most should it go sideways. ”
I couldn’t be more honored to be part of something with Wilson with Lorenzo as the lead.
I am so happy he found someone like Lorenzo after all he’s been through.
“I don’t want anything from Wilson that he doesn’t want to give.
” I spread my hands on the table, palms down, showing a piece of submission to the Beta sitting across from me.
“I don’t want to push. I don’t want to crowd.
I don’t want to be another Alpha who stands too close and calls it love.
If Wilson wants me in his life, I’m there in whatever capacity, whatever distance, as long as he needs me on the other side of whatever wall he’s built. ”
“And if he lets you in?” Lorenzo’s question is quiet, each word weighty.
“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure he never regrets it.”
Lorenzo unfolds his hands, pressing his palms flat against the table, mirroring mine.
An understanding settles between us as he lets out a small sigh.
“Wilson flinches when Alphas raise their voices,” Lorenzo states, each fact delivered without ornament.
“He’s had nightmares that wake him gasping.
He apologizes when someone touches him and his body responds.
He’s apparently spent two years learning to survive alone and he’s very good at it. Too good.”
I feel responsible for some of that but the only thing I can do now is make amends.
“Oliver and I have been taking care of him. He’s sleeping in our apartment.
He eats when we feed him. He lets Oliver hold him after the nightmares, and he lets me touch the back of his neck when he needs to come back to himself.
” Lorenzo’s gaze holds mine. “He’s starting to trust that he’s allowed to want things.
If you crack that open before he’s ready, you won’t just lose him, you’ll undo everything he’s built in the last few weeks. ”
I nod. “I understand.”
“I need you to more than understand.” Lorenzo leans forward again, placing his forearms on the table.
“I need you to hear me when I tell you that being an Alpha won’t save you from me if you hurt him.
I don’t care about designation. I don’t care about your money or your attorneys or the fact that you could break me in half.
” His voice drops. “If you damage what we’re building with Wilson, I will take you apart. And I will be precise about it.”
His words hang in the air between us. I meet his dark, steady gaze. There’s no posturing. He’s stating a fact the way he states the club’s operating costs.
“I hear you.” My voice stays low. “Lorenzo, I’ve spent five years hating that I share a last name with the man who hurt Wilson.
I’ve spent five years carrying the guilt of every night I was in that bed and didn’t see what was happening or didn’t let myself see it.
” My shoulders fall in defeat. “I’m not Sebastian.
I will never be Sebastian. And if I start becoming him, I’d want you to stop me. ”
He studies me for a long moment, searching my face, testing my words against what he sees. Then something in his expression resolves. “Wilson doesn’t know any of this.” Lorenzo straightens in his chair. “What you’ve told me stays in this room until he’s ready to hear it from you.”
“Agreed.”
“And the money. The investment stays clean. I don’t care what your feelings are. The club’s finances are separate from whatever happens between you and Wilson.”
“That’s how I built the offer. No strings. No conditions.”
He nods, then extends his hand across the salvaged door. We hold the handshake a beat longer than business demands.
“Oliver is going to be insufferable about this,” Lorenzo says, a faint edge of warmth creeping into his voice. “He’s been planning your integration into the pack since the night you had drinks with us.”
“He’s not subtle.”
“My Omega’s never been subtle. It’s one of his better qualities.” He releases my hand. “Thursday, we have another meeting with the county clerk about the code violation. I’d like you there.”
“I’ll be there.”
The office door opens and Oliver's face appears in the gap with glitter catching the hallway light, two coffee cups balanced in one hand. "Are you done with your secret Alpha-Beta bonding ritual? Because Wilson is stress-organizing the stockroom again and I need backup."
Lorenzo stands and buttons his jacket with deliberate fingers. "We're done."
Oliver studies us both, his gaze moving between our faces with an accuracy I find unsettling.
His mouth curves slowly upward as he thrusts the coffees through the doorway.
"Good. Because I promised Wilson a cinnamon roll and somebody needs to go get it.
" His eyes find mine, pinning me in place.
"Nicholas. You know the place on Fifth and Maple? "
My chest tightens as memories flood back. The coffee shop where Wilson froze on the sidewalk, unable to cross the street. The window table where I watched him walk away into the rain. "I know it," I say, my voice lower than intended.
"They have the best cinnamon rolls. Wilson won't admit he likes them but he ate three the last time Lorenzo brought them home." Oliver grins, teeth flashing white. Little fucker is lying through his teeth, kind of. He’s the one who’s in love with the sugar but somehow got Wilson hooked on them as well. "Grab a box on your way in Thursday?"
The weight in my chest transforms into something warmer, something that pulses beneath my ribs with each heartbeat. I reach out and take the coffee Oliver offers, feeling the heat seep into my palm. "I can do that."