1. Willow #2
Setting, the brush down, I rub my fingers together.
“Money, darlings. You can’t fight off an alpha.
We’re not physiologically engineered for that.
So, what you need is a reputable security service with call outs, cameras, and for those of us in the public eye, a security team.
And all this costs dollars . . . which is precisely why I’m always talking about finances. ”
Out of sight of the camera, Mr Shares belly crawls toward me, head cocked as if he’s listening to my spiel. But the truth is, he’s listening for distress in my voice. I smile, my dog the key pillar to my sanity.
I turn my attention back to the recording. Where was I?
“I can’t even begin to tell you the peace of mind that comes from knowing your property’s got cameras and alarms, and help’s just one panic button call away. What I wouldn’t have given for some of that ten years ago.”
I pause for effect, letting the message sink in. “So, take my advice. Claim back your freedom and your safety, and make sure you’re the one pulling the strings, not your alphas and betas. Newsflash! It’s your responsibility, not anyone else’s.
“And if you’re not sure how to do that, hit the subscribe button, because that’s what we’re all about here on the Boss Omega channel. Then jump in the comments and say “blueprint” and I’ll send you my guide on how to reclaim your financial independence.”
Almost done, but I need to keep my viewers on the hook so they keep coming back for more.
Flourishing for attention, I add, “Tomorrow, I’ll post my five criteria for choosing a good security company. But, if you’re in a hurry, check out the description. I’ve linked my top recommendations there.”
With a dust of blush and powder, I quickly finish my makeup. “All right, Omegalings. I’m heading off to the office now. Hopefully the traffic isn’t too bad today.” I flash my signature wink, then close with, “Stay bossy out there,” before ending the recording.
Phew. I take a deep breath and steady myself on the vanity. My heart hammers as I take the phone off its cradle. Did I talk too fast? I’m sure I sounded confident and smooth, but maybe it’ll only be seen as arrogance. I get enough comments calling me a cocky bitch for broaching these topics.
Mr Shares thumps his silky tail as I leave the bathroom.
“What do you think?” I ask. “Was the product placement too obvious?”
He cocks his head, panting lightly.
“Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t done a promo for a while.” I lean down to fondle his ears, my tension draining away. “I thought I was pretty natural?”
He whuffs in agreement and dances around, clearly my biggest fan. Although I still doubt myself, my delivery’s improved a lot since I first started.
“So what if it’s a lie?” I scoff under my breath as I limp to the laundry and scoop out the dog biscuits. “My whole life is a lie, but what am I supposed to tell them? Incapacitated by lightning strikes? No one would even believe it, plus a shut in doesn’t make for an omega role model.”
Mr Shares parks his rump on the ground, watching me closely, his big black eyes devoid of judgement. Unlike the rest of the world. When it comes to the sphere of influencing and omegas, anything less than perfection is crucified.
And I’m far from perfect.
The moment I think it, the voices of the past murmur in my ears, quiet to begin with but growing louder.
“You? What can a weak omega like you do?” Fingers trailing up the back of my neck to grasp my hair.
“High school dropout. No education. No parents. You think you have something to contribute? Don’t make me laugh, Willow.
You’re lucky we took you in, because no one else would have you.
Tell me, where are the alphas lining up to listen to your every word, huh? ”
Laughter echoes in my ears. I crouch down on the tiles and cover my head with my hands, trying to silence the mocking voices. But that doesn’t stop the memories.
“Wanna know where your place is?” The grating scrape of metal as he unzips his fly. “Right here, on the end of my cock. Open wide, Willow.” Laughter, and more zips unraveling.
I gasp, and look around, frantically checking if they’re here. My pulse pounds in my ears and my breath grows shallow. Sweat dampens my upper lip. How many years has it been, and I still can’t get rid of those voices?
Mr Shares nudges his head under my locked arms. As I open up, he crawls right up onto my body, panting lightly and licking at my neck.
They’re not here. It’s just me and my dog. I bury my face in his fur. They can’t control me anymore. I’m safe.
Pressing one hand to my chest, I ask myself, “What five things do you appreciate about yourself, Willow Sheldon? Hmm?”
I list them off aloud, blind to anything else. Persistence, nice eyes, animal-lover, business-oriented. The counting helps as much as the self-care. I’ve built so many routines to stop the terror, to escape their taunting voices. But at this point, I’m starting to think I’ll never break free.
Willow Sheldon doesn’t get to be happy.
With a huff, I push away from the cupboard, straightening my spine and lifting my head. I’m the Boss Omega. I’ll tell as many lies as necessary to prevent even one omega experiencing the hell I went through.
And to keep my mask in place.
Mr Shares whines, checking me all over with his cold nose. Although I’ve just filled his food bowl, he’s not interested in eating when I’m on the brink.
“Go on, eat your food,” I coax.
He leans on my leg for a long moment before moving to his bowl.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I mutter.
My cuckoo clock chimes in the kitchen, telling me the stock market’s about to open. “Hear that, Mr Shares?” I force a smile. “Time to buy more shares.”
I shake my head at my own joke as I limp back up the hallway. My dog’s name makes the best wisecrack for a woman who gives financial self-help advice, but he also lives up to the other meaning of the word: he shares everything with me. Helps keep the nightmares at bay.
Even if I’m housebound and can’t take him for walks. Dogs are good like that. People? Not so much.
I settle in at my desk and get to work scanning the stock markets and assessing my portfolio.
A niggling voice in the back of my head says I need to boost my dividends producing portfolio.
Expenses are rising, and my own security costs bucketloads.
Necessary steps to ensure I’m never taken advantage of again.
If I go down that mental garden path, I’ll end up huddling on the floor again.
So I check my thoughts by putting the concern on a sticky note and setting it in my diary to review tomorrow.
Truth is, I’m wealthy enough not to worry about money, but it’s become a habit after working so hard to climb out of the hole those assholes left me in.
Mr Shares wants to go out after his meal, so I take a quick break for breakfast, eating at a small table with views over the expansive backyard. The breakfast bagel’s halfway to my mouth when I spy a real problem.
About a foot tall and glossy red, the squirrel climbs down my fence and pokes its nose into a camelia bush. This side of the fence. My heart sputters.
“Oh, no,” I whisper, rising. My hip locks up and I curse as I stumble. I must get to the door before—
The golden retriever spots the squirrel and lets out a ferocious bark. He bounds across the yard, silken hair flying out behind him in rippling waves.
“Hey!” I cry, ambling toward the door while gripping my throbbing side. “Stop!”
His good boy persona doesn’t exist in the face of squirrels. The oversized rodent bolts for the fence, plumed tail waving like a red flag my dog can’t resist. Chattering with rage, the critter bounds up the bricks and disappears over the wall.
Mr Shares growls, barreling full tilt at the fence. My breath catches as he flies upward, toward the wall I had raised two feet higher—the one backing onto the neighbor’s property, the place with the awful guard dogs.
My dog’s paws catch on the fence top, and for a moment he scrabbles for grip before hauling himself up over the lip and vanishing from sight.
I throw open the sliding door and hobble out under the covered patio. But my feet won’t step out onto the lawn. A frustrated sob catches in my throat as my body rebels, locking up like I’m made of stone.
Nothing can force me out into that dangerous open ground—not even to save my best friend.
As I stand there, shaking with fear, snarls and yelps erupt on the other side of the fence.