Chapter Twenty-Nine – Kayla #2
The owners of the businesses that are bleeding people dry. The CEOs and stock traders that make more money in a day than most people could comprehend. It would make me sick if I wasn’t so nervous about this whole thing, whatever it is.
Seriously, what’s going on?
It’s about a twenty-minute drive before we reach our destination: a mansion that dwarfs the others, the biggest one on the street.
We pull into a spacious garage full of other sportscars and even a few motorcycles, and he gets out of the car once it’s off.
I don’t, but he rectifies that by coming around to the passenger’s side and opening the door for me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me out like I’m a ragdoll.
And to someone like him? That’s what I am. I’m nothing. I’m a toy. I’m one hundred and ten percent disposable.
Bentley Sr. doesn’t say a word as he drags me into his house.
I don’t even have time to admire the paintings on the wall—they’re probably unique, hand-painted pieces that cost a fortune.
I don’t see someone like him decorating his house with canvases he bought from a grocery store’s markdown section.
Through the house we go, until we end up in an office, where he pushes me onto a leather seat and tells me, “Sit. Don’t move a muscle.”
I face a grand mahogany desk, my heart in my throat, and I wait for him to go into a nearby armoire, pull out a glass, and pour himself some kind of alcohol that doesn’t need refrigerated. I don’t drink, so I don’t know what it is.
Sparkling glass in hand, he moves around his desk, taking a seat across from me. His black eyes are much like his son’s, only his stare holds nothing but malice while his son’s, I’ve realized this past week, hides pain.
I don’t like this guy. The vibe I got off him when we first met was spot-on.
“So,” he starts, setting down his glass, “Mackayla Prim. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you.”
My traitorous inner omega lowers her head at that, forcing me to do the same. Even though I don’t like this man, I still don’t feel good hearing him say that.
“When we first met, I really thought you were something else, the perfect person to hire to spy on my son for me.” He snickers.
“Turns out, you are something else—you’re not a beta, are you?
I can smell the scent-blocking cream on you.
You weren’t wearing it before. In fact, there’s something different about you now, other than that cream. ”
I swallow hard, still unable to meet his stare, afraid I’ll give it away. But based on the things he’s saying, it sounds like he already knows. That’s bad.
Bentley Sr. says the one thing I’m dreading: “You’re an omega, aren’t you?
An omega who has, possibly for years, pretended to be a beta.
Don’t tell me being around my worthless son has somehow drawn out that inner omega of yours?
” He mocks me and his son in the same breath, and he does it while wearing a sneer, as if the mere thought of an omega truly wanting his son is preposterous.
“I did offer to take care of you if you got close to my son, and that offer still stands: did you get close to him? Is that why there’s a new sparkle in your eye, omega?”
I shake my head.
“No? Hmm. Then that begs the question why.” He takes a small sip from his glass.
“Do you think my son would be happy to know you’re here with me, alone?
” Unless I’m mistaken, there’s an added edge to his voice when he asks that particular question, and it makes me even more uncomfortable than I already am. “Speak.”
With a shrug, I say, “I don’t know.”
“Lies. You do know. Tell me the truth, omega.”
I close my eyes. “No. He wouldn’t be happy.”
The über cocks his head at me in a very calculated manner. “And why would that be?”
“He…” I need to tread carefully here, otherwise I’ll get myself into trouble—trouble I don’t know if I can come back from.
It’s one thing to face my brother. I know what he’s capable of.
It’s another thing entirely to be alone with an über like this, someone who could make me disappear and no one would ever know.
Bradford would. He’s the only one.
Finally, I say, “He warned me not to be alone with you.”
The man across from me smirks, although there is no mirth in that expression at all.
It’s vile, devious, the kind of smirk that threatens to choke you from its sheer acidity.
“My son actually warned you to not be alone with me. Perhaps I didn’t give my son enough credit.
For him to go out on a limb and warn you…
that must mean he cares for you. I can’t imagine him warning a stranger off the street like that. ”
He cares for me. Does he? It’s true he gave me a place to stay while I was in heat, but he didn’t come to me, didn’t offer to help me in that way. If Bradford does care for me, as his father thinks, it must be in his own way.
Bentley Sr. chuckles darkly. “And here I thought my son lost his balls.” He takes another sip from his glass.
“And all for what, for you? Who even are you? Nobody, as far as I’m concerned.
” He finishes his glass. “You and I are going to teach my son a little lesson… although, come to think of it, you might not particularly enjoy the lesson, either.”
I want to get up and run out of here, but even if I wasn’t stuck to the chair like glue, I know that if I do manage to bolt, he’ll come after me and he’ll be much, much quicker than me. He’s taller, stronger, and more fit than I am even though he’s pushing seventy.
I can’t move. All I can do is sit there and wish this wasn’t happening.
He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out his phone. He unlocks the screen with his face and then fiddles with it for a few seconds. It takes me a while to realize what he’s doing: he’s calling Bradford.
My stomach sinks to the floor. Call me psychic, but this isn’t going to be good.
Bradford must not pick up, because it sounds as though his father leaves him a message when he says, “Bradford. Why does it not surprise me you’re choosing to ignore my call?
Nevertheless, this is a courtesy call. I’m sitting here with your new assistant—she is remarkably pliant and obedient, but I suppose it’s because she’s an omega, and an unclaimed one at that.
Give me a call back, when you can. Until then, I’m going to continue to get to know Ms. Prim in your absence. ”
Though he doesn’t outright say what he’ll do to me, I detect the threatening tone in his voice. It’s the same tone Jeremy gets when he’s about to lose his cool, those critical moments before he snaps and loses control, and I end up sporting bruises the next week.
As if I need a reminder, my throat burns in memory of my brother’s hands wrapped around my neck.
That happened almost a week ago now. It feels like another lifetime, and yet here I am again, only instead of facing Jeremy, I’m facing someone worse, someone who could end my life with the snap of his fingers.
Someone who wouldn’t care at all if he killed me.
Then again, sometimes I wonder if Jeremy would care, too. How can anyone hurt the ones they claim to love? It’s something I never understood.
He sets his phone down on his desk, gets up, and goes to pour himself some more.
Instead of sitting back down once he has his glass half-full, he moves to stand between me and the front of his desk.
The way he sizes me up over the rim of said glass is the way I imagine a tiger looks at its prey before it pounces, the gaze of a predator.
And I’m the prey.
“How long do you think it’ll take him to call back?
” he asks over the glass. The glass itself does not hide the sneer on his lips, nor does it do anything to lessen the tension in the air.
“The moment he hears I have you, I bet he’ll call immediately.
I’m counting on it, in fact. Don’t worry, though.
Even if he could leave the house, it isn’t like he could get here in time.
I could do whatever I want to you, and he couldn’t lift a single finger to stop me. ”
Bentley Sr. laughs, as if it’s the most amusing thing in the world. “And how could he? I broke that out of him a long time ago. Ever since he was a child learning to speak, he’s been nothing but a—”
Before he could finish that thought, his phone rings, and he turns his top half around, sets the glass down on the desk, and picks up his phone.
“Bradford,” he muses. “Did you listen to my message?” A short pause before he goes on, “Yes, yes. Let us get straight to the point, then. This omega, you care for her, don’t you?
Oh, don’t be daft, of course you do. Why else would you warn her to never be alone with me? ”
As I listen to him speak to his son, I want to crawl out of my skin and slither away. The more time that passes, the worse this is going to be.
He chuckles. “Did you tell her everything I did to you? I doubt it. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her all about the things I did to you before I do the same to her. By the time she’s found by the authorities, let’s just say there won’t be much left of her to see. She’s already so small—”
The über makes a face, then pulls his phone away from his ear and glances at the screen.
“Wow, he hung up on me. Now that’s a first.” He places the phone down on the desk once more, turning his full attention to me.
“You must have more sway over him than you’re aware of.
The son I know would never have done that. ”
I can’t even be happy at that. How could I when he basically just said he’s going to torture me, beat me, and kill me?
I used to think I wasn’t afraid to die, but…
but I am. I don’t want to die. I don’t want this asshole to kill me.
There’s still so much I want to experience in life, so much left to do.
Hayden. Bradford. I don’t want to never see them again.
No, in fact, I want the opposite. I want to see them every single day from here on out.
I want to memorize every feature on their faces, their laughs, the way their eyes light up when the sun shines on them.
There’s so much I want, and now I fear I’ll never have any of it.
“Now, back to what I was saying before,” Bentley Sr. says, “my son has been nothing but an eternal disappointment. I may have mentioned this the last time we saw each other, so frankly, the fact that you make him have a backbone again is remarkable. Honestly, I thought I beat that out of him decades ago.”
Hearing him say it so casually fills me with rage, and a certain type of helplessness that makes me want to go back in time and save Bradford from ever experiencing something like that.
He flashes a smile in my direction, but again, it’s not a smile of happiness.
No, it’s icy, the kind of smile that wordlessly warns you you’re on thin ice, and you’re about to plunge into such deep, dark waters that you’ll never be able to surface again.
“You have something to say? Say it. Speak your mind, omega. It might just be the last time you’re able to. ”
I know this game. I’ve played it with Jeremy on multiple occasions. It’s a trap. If I say anything he doesn’t like, anything he doesn’t want to hear, the repercussions will be swift and severe. He’s baiting me.
But this isn’t Jeremy. I’m not the old me. I learned to keep my mouth shut when asked a question like that by my brother, but if this is going to be it for me—if this asshole is going to hurt me, torture me, and then kill me—I’m going to say what’s on my mind.
“You’re his father,” I say, refusing to meet the über’s eyes. “You were supposed to love him, be a role model for him. You were supposed to show him how to be a good alpha in this world, not abuse him—”
“Abuse him? Is that what you want to call it? How quaint. I only did what my own father did to me, and look at how I turned out.” He holds out his arms, palms up, gesturing around us, as if this grand mansion is enough of a sign that he turned out well enough.
“I built an empire from the ground-up. I’m from the last generation of true alphas.
All the alphas you see now are nothing more than betas dressed up in musk.
They’re worthless, and that includes my son. ”
A generational divide. A stupid one. One that ignores the fact that now alphas are trying to make society better for everyone, not just themselves.
For betas and for omegas, too. An alpha doesn’t need to be beaten senseless when he’s a child to become a leader among men, but that’s exactly what this guy seems to think.
It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.
Bentley Sr. shakes his head. “I thought I was doing right. I thought I was teaching him, molding him, creating a better alpha—but sometimes it’s in the blood.
His mother was weak, and he clearly takes after her.
I’ve tried and tried to find someone worthy of producing a true heir for me, but this world…
it breeds nothing but weakness. True strength is dying out. ”
I want to say that’s good, but I know if I speak on it, it won’t end well for me. The most I can do right now is to keep him talking.
And men like him love to hear themselves talk, so it should be easy enough, right?