20. Jordan
Chapter twenty
I stare at the unsolicited email from Cyrus Stargazer, fuming.
When it came in two days ago, I nearly broke my phone screen from hurling it against the wall.
Who does he think he is? Does he think two lines are enough to make up for years of pain?
Lanie crosses her arms and taps her foot, impatiently waiting on me. "Are you done yet?" she huffs, leaning forward to squint at my computer screen. "You're late for your ten o'clock. What is so important that you're going to keep the Alphamatic team waiting?"
I roll my eyes before paging away from the offending email and pressing send on the other one I was writing. "Nothing, let's go."
I'm all of four minutes late for the meeting. I don't know why she's so bent out of shape about it.
But it's done. Pressing send on that email was the last step at making Vick and I officially pack.
It's my fuck you to the Stargazers having Cyrus's email up at the same time I apply to be recognized as a part of Pack Valentine.
As we walk to the conference room, Lanie hands me a folder. "Alphamatic is undergoing a huge expansion, selling franchises left and right, so they're looking to put in a couple of magazine ads. Of course, they know we're the best, so they want us to create the ads and find placement for them."
"Full creative control?" I ask as I flip through the folder.
"Almost, they have one request. They've got a spokesman they want us to use."
I grab coffee from the pot in the break room, tentatively sipping the tepid liquid before putting the cup back down and groaning. "Can we get an espresso machine for the office?"
"Sure, of course. So about the spokesman…"
My body freezes halfway through the conference room door because, as if reading his email summoned him, Cyrus Stargazer sits directly in my line of sight.
The massive Alpha is as handsome as ever. His curly brown hair is pulled up in a top knot, and his broad, muscular body is wrapped in a sinfully tight blue shirt. Several buttons on the front are undone, giving me an eyeful of his golden-toned skin.
I place my hand on the door frame and back up, letting the door slam closed behind me as I spin on Lanie. "Cyrus Stargazer is the spokesman? And you didn't think to warn me?"
"I'm sorry, I was trying to-"
"Trying to? You had so many chances to. Fuck, I would've turned this account down. I thought you were vetting these clients?" I lean against the wall, forcing my breathing to slow, but I still feel too overwhelmed, too restrained. The pencil dress I have on feels so tight. I'm suddenly aware of the way my belly curves at the bottom, how my thighs dimple when I sit down.
And shamefully, I wonder what Cyrus is going to think of me. Of how I look now.
But there's nothing I can do but push through this meeting and then turn the account down.
I pin Lanie with a glare. "This isn't over, Lanie," I sneer before I reenter the room that contains the embodiment of my trauma.
Cyrus stands, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. "Jordan, honey," he begins.
"Mr. Stargazer," I reply cooly. Cyrus freezes, his fingers flexing, but I turn away from him.
"Jordan, this is Nolan Sloane, owner of Alphamatic," Lanie says, gesturing at a handsome Alpha with buzzed hair and rich brown skin. He's not dressed in a suit like most of my clients are, but that's not surprising considering what he does. Instead, he's in nice jeans and a plain black shirt.
He holds his hand out, which surprises me since, now that I'm an Omega, the Omega that gave him that shiny scar could get upset about him touching me. But there is no hesitation as he extends his hand to me, so I don't show any either and grasp it tightly. "Nice to meet you, Nolan. I'm Jordan. This is your first major ad campaign, right?"
I settle into my seat, keeping Cyrus in my periphery but not giving him any of my attention. Nolan smiles warmly and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah, my Omega thought it would be a good idea. We've got a lot of franchises that have been opening up lately, and while they can do their own local ads, we think a nationwide campaign may be beneficial."
"We? Do you have a business partner who needs to be included in these conversations?" I open Lanie's folder, flicking through the papers for mention of someone else working with Nolan.
"I mean, we, as in my pack, is all. We're all quite excited about this partnership. When Cyrus agreed to be our spokesman and his agent insisted we work with you…"
"Oh, insisted, did he?" I spin in the chair and pin the Alpha in question with a glare. "Insisted?"
Cyrus smiles, utterly unabashed in his machinations. "You're the best, Ms. Knight."
"Valentine," I say through gritted teeth. "As of today, I am officially Jordan Valentine."
"Oh, congrats!" Nolan says, oblivious to the tension flowing between the two of us. "Your pack must be thrilled!"
"We're only a pack of two, but we're quite happy together," I tell Nolan, turning my back on Cyrus again, ignoring the angry rumble he's emitting. "Anyways, I'd love to be able to help you, Mr. Sloane, but I'm not sure if our ideals align."
"Jordan," Cyrus says lowly. "Don't do this."
"Mr. Stargazer, I don't believe this has anything to do with you." I can hear him pushing to his feet, feel him stalk around the table, and stand behind me. And then he's turning my chair, his arms caging me in as I try my hardest to avoid breathing and scenting him.
But Cyrus ducks his head, burying his nose in the crook of my neck, his strong hands holding the chair and stopping me from fleeing his attention.
"Of course," he mumbles softly, pulling away and looking at me with reverence. "You smell like springtime. Like sunshine and wisteria."
Memories flood me of hiding beneath the purple blooms, doing homework in the fading sunlight, sneaking glances, and hiding pencils from one another.
Of a beautiful childhood together.
We were just kids, and it was all innocent, but he'd pass me notes in class and tell me to meet under our tree.
Our tree that had beautiful purple blooms and a rich floral scent.
And with one inhale, those memories merge, changing into nights as teenagers when we whispered secrets as we sipped cheap wine. Cyrus would gather me in his arms and feed me berries we stole off the neighbors' vines, and we'd laugh until the early hours of the morning.
Those memories morph into a sticky, sweet scent of blackberry wine, that subtle undercurrent of alcohol sharpening the freshness of the berry. Of drinking it from a plastic cup as I watched him across the room at a party and catching his eye before he'd ditch whoever he was talking to so he could spend time with me.
Scents hold memories, and this one emanates from the massive Alpha in front of me, caging me into this desk chair, oblivious to the others in the room.
"Cyrus, you need to go," I say quietly around the lump in my throat. "This is my place of business you have chosen to ambush me at."
"We're going to step outside. Mr. Sloane, how about we go get a coffee?" I hear Lanie ask before they shuffle out of the room. The door closes behind them, but my vision is entirely blocked by the massive Alpha before me.
"Cyrus," I hiss again. "Back up."
He listens this time, removing his hands from the chair and slowly backing away, giving me some much-needed breathing room. I bend over, my hands clasping together behind my neck as I slow my breathing in an attempt to calm my panic.
A heavy hand rests on my shoulder, and I flinch away. "Don't touch me!"
"Fuck, Jay, I…"
"Why can't you leave me alone, Cyrus?"
"You didn't respond to my email," he says with a huff. "I had to get your attention. We need to talk, Jordan."
My mouth gapes as I stare at him. The absolute gall of this Alpha to try to tell me what I need to do. His body is wound tight, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stares me down. I won't let him intimidate me into submission.
"It wasn't enough for you to break my heart and destroy my life, but you have to come into my place of business to fuck with me?"
"Destroy your life?" he says incredulously. "Broke your heart, sure. But how could I destroy your life?"
"Forget it," I say, pushing to stand and smoothing my dress. "We're done here. We're done forever. I'm not taking Alphamatic on as a client."
"Then I'll find someone else. Everyone wants to work with me. I'll keep showing up here. You can't turn everyone down." He shrugs dismissively, grinning at me like he's got me beat. "You will talk to me, Jordan. We will get past this. You were always meant to be mine. We just need to talk through this."
"Talk through this?" My laugh is a quiet staccato. "There's nothing to talk through with you. I've done my fair share of talking. Thirteen years of it in therapy." His face blanches a bit, but I don't stop there. "You didn't think I got away unscathed, did you? Did you think it was just a little teenage heartache?"
I push the chair I was sitting in underneath the table and gather up the folder that rests on top of it. "No, you're right. Just a little teenage heartache. That's all it was. Teenage heartache is known to cause inpatient psychiatric treatment, right? After all, questioning your sanity because the one thing in life you were sure of was destroyed is totally normal. Because there was no way I could be an Omega scent matched to the boys I grew up loving if they had an Omega of their own, you know?"
When I turn around and look at the Alpha, his jaw is slack as he stares at me. I feel unhinged, like my tenuous grip on sanity is failing, and there is nothing I can do to retain it.
"Do you know the day I was in the hospital was the day I presented as an Omega? Thirty-two years old, and presenting as an Omega. That has to be some kind of record right? The world's latest presentation? I spent sixteen years being told that I was wrong about my body. From everyone. My parents. My doctors. The boys I loved." My voice cracks embarrassingly at that word, and I lower my voice. "No one believed me. No one. Not even my therapist."
"Jordan, baby, I-"
"I'm not done," I snap as I cut him off. "Do you want to know the only person ever to believe me? A doctor from the Design Clinic. I had an appointment with him the day I presented. Doctor Icarus Valentine." His eyes widen when he hears the last name. "Yeah, my Alpha." My emphasis on the title makes him cringe, his golden skin paling.
"Turns out he's my scent match. His working theory is that being around my scent matched Alpha is what finally drew my Omega out of me." I place a hand on his broad chest, tapping three times.
"Isn't that funny? I had three scent matched Alphas who pushed me away. But all they needed to do was spend time with me, and I would've presented. Late, of course, but not sixteen years late. Probably only three or four." I push past him, wrapping my hand around the doorknob. But before I open it, I glance over my shoulder. "Isn't that funny, Cyrus?"