Chapter Eleven – Kayla
So, apparently, when Bradford said he ordered me clothes, he didn’t just order me a new pair of dress pants. Nope. He went ahead and practically bought me an entire wardrobe. Multiple pairs of pants. More shirts than I can wear in a week.
When they arrived, I was feeling better, so I ventured out of the bedroom to watch both Bradford and Hayden bring them into the house.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“Clothes” is what Bradford says, while Hayden just shrugs. After all, the latter did not order these clothes himself. The former did.
“I thought you were getting me a new pair of pants,” I say as I go to peek into the nearest bag.
Based on the name on the bag, there is no way in hell I’ll ever be able to pay him for these.
No way. That fact is set in stone when I pull out a pair of pants from that bag and see the still-attached price tag.
I almost faint. Seriously. The pants themselves have a retail price of over double my and Jeremy’s monthly rent. How’s something like that possible? Who can afford this stuff?
Oh, yeah. Someone like Bradford.
“I was, and then I decided to get a few more.” The way he says it, so off-handedly, like this isn’t something huge, makes my head spin. “And then I figured, I might as well just keep going, so…”
He might as well keep going. Like, keeping clicking add-to-cart? Seriously, what the hell?
“There is no way I’ll ever be able to pay you back for this,” I say, feeling the need to hyperventilate over being in supreme debt to my boss.
My new boss, by the way, who I totally embarrassed myself in front of today.
At the rate I’m going, I won’t have this job in a week.
I can only beg to keep the job so much before the begging rings stale.
“And I told you you don’t have to,” he says, dismissing my concern entirely. “I don’t need you to pay me back.”
I decide to try going about it a different way. “I can’t take all of this home.” But then, after I say that, I realize I can’t explain why I can’t take it all home—I’d have to get into my brother, who I don’t really want to talk about right now.
Or, you know, ever.
“Then leave some things here,” Bradford says simply. “But do pick a pair of pants to change into. You will not be leaving the house to meet with my father in Alpha Life looking like that.”
I glance down at myself, at the basketball shorts I wear. They hang loosely on my hips. Thank goodness for the elastic in the inner waistband that I was able to tighten and tie.
He’s right. They don’t scream professional.
I glance at the pants I pulled out of the first bag. They’re a plain black, nothing special about them, so I seriously don’t understand why on earth they’d retail for so much. But then again, people with money like blowing it on stupid stuff.
Hayden asks, “Do you need help?”
“With changing? No, I think you’ve seen enough of my bottom half today, thanks.” My remark comes out drier than I intend, but oh, well. It’s true. It’s not a lie. I did not have letting both Hayden and Bradford see me in my underwear on my bingo card for today.
Today definitely took a turn, didn’t it?
Hayden gives me a wickedly goofy grin, while Bradford coughs and averts his eyes, as if I’m dropping my pants right then and there.
I’m not. I wait until I reach the nearest bathroom before I change into the pants.
Surprisingly, they fit perfectly. They’re hemmed to my ankles, almost like they were made for someone of my stature, for an omega. Crap. I hope fitting into expensive omega clothes doesn’t give anything away to the guys. That would be bad for too many reasons to name.
I return to the guys and find them in the entryway of the house, the bags around their feet. They weren’t in the middle of a discussion, but still, the silence that radiates around them changes, shifting into something different when I appear.
Bradford appraises me in a mathematical light, “They fit. Good.”
Hayden, on the other hand, breaks out into another goofy grin, dimples and all, when he says, “You look nice in them, Kayla.” The compliment flows off his tongue easily, but it doesn’t change how it lands.
I don’t think I’ve ever had someone tell me anything like that before. I don’t know how to take it, so in the end I don’t say a word.
Bradford checks his watch. “It’s time. You two better go.” To me, he says, “Remember—”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember what you told me. I’ll let Hayden be my escort and I’ll holler if your father makes one wrong move. Satisfied?”
The breath that leaves his wide chest tells me one of two things. A: he’s either not thrilled with the attitude I’m giving him, or B: he’s worried I’m not taking the meeting with his father seriously enough.
Though he probably wants to say something else to me, Bradford just sighs and says, “Go, then. I’ll bring these to one of the bedrooms. You can decide whether or not you want to slowly take anything home or leave them here, in case, you know.”
In case I’m clumsy and weak again and somehow hurt myself without meaning to? Yeah, odds are that just might happen. My track record when it comes to that sort of thing isn’t too great, I’ll be the first to admit.
I leave the house, trailed shortly by Hayden. We walk to his truck, which is parked near the garage, and it’s only when we’re buckled up and on the road that Hayden gives me a lingering look and asks, “You sure you’re up for a meeting tonight?”
“It’s not like I can say no,” I mumble.
“Yeah, I guess, but if you tell him you’re sick or something—”
“I just started this job. I can’t take off time like that.” I don’t really expect someone like Hayden to understand where I’m coming from. He’s probably never struggled a day in his life, which means we come from different worlds.
“Bradford seemed really concerned about you meeting with his father.”
I pucker my lips as I gaze out of the window, at the giant houses we pass by on the residential street. “He mentioned something before, but I thought… I don’t know. I guess I thought he was just blowing things out of proportion.”
“It sounds like Bentley Sr. is bad news.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s bad news or not. He’s the one who hired me. He’s technically my boss, not Bradford. No matter what happens, I need to suck it up.”
Hayden lets out a soft puff of a breath, clearly unhappy at my statement. “No amount of money is worth the chance of you getting hurt, Kayla. You should know that.”
Psh. I can get hurt in my regular, day-to-day life, so I might as well throw in a paycheck. I don’t tell him that, though. I say, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand where I’m coming from.”
He’s quiet for a while, but I can tell it weighs heavily on his mind. If he could, he’d say whatever he has to in order to convince me that this job isn’t worth it. Alas, nothing he could say or do would work on me.
Eventually, he says, “I just… I worry about you. Seeing you today, so weak, bleeding from wounds that were one hundred percent avoidable… please don’t take any offense to this next question, but are you okay? I mean, are you really okay? Is someone making you do all of this? You can tell me.”
My skin suddenly itches. I don’t like how he pretty much hit the nail on the head with his assumptions, and I don’t appreciate how earnest he sounds when he says any of it. Like he means it. Like earlier wasn’t a fluke.
As if he likes me.
I can’t tell him about Jeremy, just like I can’t tell him about the fact that I’m not okay, that I’ve never really been okay, and that I probably won’t ever be okay. This is my life, and as sad and pathetic as it is, there’s nothing I can do to change it.
“You’re overthinking things,” I tell him. “I’m fine. Really. Today was just… a lot of bad luck, that’s all.”
The sound that escapes him right then informs me he doesn’t quite believe me, but that’s okay. As long as he drops it, we’ll be good.
Thankfully, he doesn’t keep pushing. He lets it drop.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t talk about anything else, so it’s a long, tense ride to the Alpha Life headquarters downtown.
He manages to find a parking spot two blocks away, one that requires paying a two-hour meter, but thankfully he has some quarters in one of his cup holders.
We head to the tall skyscraper, and I’d be lying if I said my stomach isn’t churning.
It is. It is totally churning to the point where I want to be sick.
All this talk of being cautious and wary when I’m with Bentley Sr., not to mention those scars on Bradford’s back… I can’t help but think they’re related.
If Bentley Sr. would do something like that to his own son, I don’t want to spend too much time thinking about what he could do to me, a random girl he hired off the streets to be a watchdog for that same son.
Someone like that doesn’t care about life. Someone like that is plain old cruel.
We enter the building, and as Hayden sticks his hands in his pockets and glances all around, I go to the woman sitting behind a grand marble desk and say, “Hi. I have a meeting with Mr. Bentley at six?”
The woman, a pretty beta, gives me a once-over and smiles.
“Of course.” She must have been told about me and the meeting, because she doesn’t say another word as she stands and directs me to follow her.
She brings us past the main set of elevators, to a private hall and, I assume, a private elevator, where she punches in a code in the wall.
As the elevator doors slide open, she steps inside and punches the correct button—and then she sees I have a very masculine shadow. “I’m sorry,” she says, “who are you?”
“Oh, I’m with her.” Hayden stands close to me as we enter the elevator. “Pretend I’m invisible.” Though I don’t look up at him, I can feel the grin in his voice, the way he oozes a disarming charm.
The woman chuckles softly, and unless I’m mistaken, a slight blush creeps up her cheeks under the sheer force of the wide grin on his face.