Chapter Four – Bradford
The moment my father told me he was hiring someone to be my personal assistant, I knew what it was. He was making it clear to me he no longer trusted me to run Alpha Life by myself after my fuckup with Gideon’s omega and beta.
I resent my father for everything he is and everything he stands for, but I cannot argue with him. I did mess up. I own it. There’s no denying it. I learned very young there is no hope when it comes to arguing and trying to stand up for myself when it comes to him.
I should’ve expected the insult, truthfully. When I saw her, when I nearly ran into her in the hall, the moment those wide, green eyes met mine, I wanted to rage. A beta the size of an omega is my babysitter. I could break her in half with my goddamned pinky finger.
How utterly pathetic I am.
I told her to fetch me coffee, that that’s all I wanted her to do.
She did not argue with me. She played the assistant well, getting me fresh refills anytime I wanted.
I had to put her number in my phone, so she didn’t have to sit across from me all day and stare at me.
Maybe I’ll set her up in her own office next door.
I do not need her hovering around me while I try to get some work done.
It’s not easy, working from home while under such pressure. I’m still in the loop when it comes to emails, but missing the weekly meetings and not having a say in which direction Alpha Life is going is… it’s torture. Pure, miserable torture.
Sometime in the early afternoon I get up and stretch my legs.
I wander the house. I have zero idea where that girl is, nor do I care, frankly.
She’s honestly not my problem. I pass a window and happen to gaze outside, and when I do, I see the new groundskeeper trimming one of the bushes on the eastern side of the house.
He must sense me, because right when I spot him, he looks up, smiles, and gestures for…
something. Surely he doesn’t mean he wants me to come out and speak with him?
Please. I’m sure my father hired him as well, a replacement of the old groundskeeper.
I’m not dumb. I don’t need to talk to the man to know that.
I turn away from him and keep walking down the hall. Speaking with that girl was enough, honestly. Normally I don’t let myself get worked up—it’s easier to shut everything down and keep the emotions off—but I did let myself get a little too riled up when talking with her.
Kayla. Mackayla Prim. Wonder how long she’s going to last. If she’s the go-to between me and my father… my father has a habit of breaking the pretty, helpless ones in.
He’s not a good man. Never was.
I make my way to the kitchen. I suppose I should eat something. Hmm. Perhaps I can annoy the girl and make her my personal chef—cooking was never a strong suit of mine. My head is bent in the refrigerator when I hear a knocking sound on a nearby glass window.
Straightening out, I look to the window above the sink and see that Hayden had followed me. He’s currently outside on the patio that wraps around the majority of the back of the estate.
Seems as though he won’t take no for an answer. I slowly shut the door to the fridge and wander to the nearest door. By the time I get there, Hayden is on its opposite side, grinning at me like he’s the Cheshire Cat himself.
I internally groan as I open the door and step outside.
“Mr. Bentley,” he says, offering me his gloved hand. “I’m Hayden, your new groundskeeper.”
My gaze falls to his hand, to how dirty that glove is, and I don’t make a move to shake it.
“Oh, sorry.” He must get the wrong idea, because he slides off that glove and re-offers his hand to me—which I still don’t take. It’s a moment or two before he realizes I’m not going to shake his hand at all, and he drops it.
I don’t do handshakes. I don’t do a lot of things, and it isn’t because of the germs. I’m no germaphobe. I simply do not want to touch anyone, nor do I want them to touch me.
Like I said, simple.
Hayden says, “I just wanted to introduce myself—and also ask if you mind if I step in the house every now and then. I know some clients prefer their groundskeepers not to come inside, but it’d save me so much time if I don’t have to drive somewhere to use the restroom—”
If I was my father, I would scoff at the suggestion of him entering the house, but I’m not, and I really don’t care. “Sure. Come in whenever you want. It’s not like it matters much, anyway.” I turn away from him, seconds from heading inside the house, when he calls out to me.
“You meet Kayla yet?”
The look I give him asks, Are you stupid? I don’t say that, though. I say, “Yes. We met. Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure. This is a pretty big house. I don’t think she’s used to places like this.
” Hayden wipes the sweat off his brow. I don’t smell any alpha pheromones on him, which tells me he’s a beta—but if he is a beta, he’s on the opposite of the spectrum as the girl.
He’s huge, the biggest beta I’ve ever seen.
I instantly note the concern in his voice; I don’t know if they know each other, but it doesn’t matter. His concern for her is unwarranted. I’d never lay a finger on her. I’m not my father.
“Unless you’d like to waste more of my time,” I start, and he finally takes the hint and shakes his head, returning to his duties. I watch him go with a tight frown on my face.
This is going to be a miserable time. Being watched by both the girl and the groundskeeper. I’ll have to be on my best behavior, much as I hate to say it.
You’d think, being as old as I am, I wouldn’t be chained to my father and his legacy. You’d think I’d have a pack of my own by now, even little ones racing through the halls of this house. If you thought any of that, though, you’d be wrong.
I am shackled to my namesake. His blood runs through me, a fact he never lets me forget. He is the reason I am the man I am, and because I am who I am, finding a mate has never been a priority for me. I’m not interested.
I’ve always found it difficult to connect with people. They don’t know the full truth and they never will. They’ll never understand what makes me so different from them.
I am an alpha, an über alpha, whose instincts were beaten out of me long before I presented. Hell, I’m barely a person, a fact my father never lets me forget. I am eternally a disappointment, but I’m slowly—finally—coming to terms with not caring.
Why bother trying to impress my father when it’s clear I can do no right? I might as well give up attempting anything.
Fuck. Everything fucking sucks.