Chapter 8 Kady #2
He’s exactly the type of reporter I hate. Someone who plays dirty games. Aside from Devon, there are no other alphas on The Valley Voice team, and that’s how I like it.
“You stole the position.” I jab my finger into his chest.
He chuckles. The fact that his gravelly laugh sends a tremble of longing up my thighs only makes him more infuriating. “Because you think it should have been yours?”
“I didn’t say that.” I’m usually unflappable, but this alpha has me going from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye. “I’m sure there would have been plenty of great applicants.”
He nods at the folder poking out of my backpack. “Is that your application?”
Before I have a chance to think up an incredibly witty response, he swipes it from me with the swiftness of a striking cobra. How did he even move so fast?
“Hey, that’s mine!” I lunge for it, but he raises his arm in the air, holding it out of my reach. “I didn’t say you could take it.”
“But it’s addressed to the editor of The Valley Voice, is it not?” He brings it down to eye level then scans it. “I believe you had to write an essay about your vision for the paper.”
I snatch it back before he can steal any of my ideas. “I’m sure you can come up with your own vision, considering you’re so familiar with the paper.”
“It would be good to read some of your work.” He glazes over my sarcasm.
“Of course, I need to read back over previous issues. Maybe you could help point me in the right direction? It’ll be hard to find anything in this mess.
” He surveys the office, nose scrunched in disapproval.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to give some order to the chaos. ”
My hands curl into fists, almost shaking in fury. I’m the one who is supposed to bring order to the chaos. I’d even spent hours mocking up new office layouts. How dare this alpha-hole roll in, put his feet up behind what should have been my desk, and act like he owns the place?
“I’m sure you have plenty of suggestions for how we could improve The Valley Voice,” he continues. “I’d love to hear your ideas.”
“Ideas?” I see red. “Why would I help you?”
“Because you care about this paper. Why else would you be here at…” He checks his watch. “9am on a Sunday?” He inhales deeply before his gaze lands on my food from Noodles and Chill. “Two boxes?”
“One was for Leah,” I hiss.
“Well, she won’t be eating it now.” Calder helps himself to one of the delicious-smelling boxes. “Better not let it go to waste.”
I’m stunned by his sheer audacity. He stole my job, and now he’s eating my food too!
Calder Soren may be the most arrogant alpha I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.
He grins as he sinks his teeth into a bao bun then groans in pleasure.
A moan like that is practically indecent.
How am I ever going to get any work done with Calder around?
“Shit.” Seconds later, the smile on his face vanishes, his hands jump to his throat, and he lets out a strangled rasp.
“What?” I scowl. “My stolen food not good enough for you, asshole? Or would you like to take my lip gloss too? Or how about my phone? You seem to just take whatever you want.”
He drops the bao. His face turns pink as his breathing comes out fast. “Are there peanuts in this?”
“Mei always adds them to Leah’s food. They’re her favorite.”
“Fuck.” He starts digging around in his briefcase. “I’m allergic.”
He clutches his throat with one hand as he fumbles with the briefcase with the other, eventually flipping it upside down.
“Sit down.” Realization hitting me, I jump into action. Although I don’t like my new editor, I refuse to be caught with his corpse. It’d be the plot of a terrible murder mystery. “Let me help you.”
“It’s in here somewhere.”
“I said, sit down!” He looks startled when I shove him back into his chair. “Quit fussing, and focus on your breathing.” I calm my voice. “It’ll be quicker if I do it. You’re less methodical when you’re panicking.”
I rifle through his belongings—mainly a load of notebooks—but there is a crumpled-up photo that falls out of a book.
It’s a much younger Calder along with two older men—one of whom has Calder’s light brown hair—and a woman, who I can only assume is his mother.
She’s absolutely stunning. Something about their faces look familiar, but I can’t place them.
My mind doesn’t have time to dwell as my fingers close around his EpiPen.
“Do you need—”
He grabs it from me and injects himself, his shoulders instantly sagging as his breathing slows to a normal rate. “Much better.”
“Do you want me to call anyone for you?” I ask. “Your pack, maybe?”
He shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
I pull out the chair opposite him.
“What’re you doing?” he asks.
“You shouldn’t be alone so soon after a reaction. What if you keel over and die?” I drum my fingers on the desk in front of me, my nails tapping on the surface. “I’m doing it for my conscience, not for you.”
He cracks a wry smile. “If I died, at least you’d get the editor position.”
I roll my eyes. “Imagine the scandal.”
“A front page story, I’m sure.” His eyes twinkle playfully.
Maybe he’s not a total monster after all, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting him off the hook so easily.
“I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here.” I hurl the food container with the offending peanuts into the nearest trash can. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours?”
He chuckles wearily, the slight redness around his mouth already fading. “I also should know better than to take an omega’s food.”
“You should.” I scowl at him. “Especially when it’s from Noodles and Chill. That shit is plain addictive. Take my fix away, and you’ll pay.”
“Duly noted.” He smiles. A smile that completely changes his stern expression. The kind of smile that would make most women melt. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?”
“We can try,” I huff. “But if you think I’m going to forget saving your life, you’re mistaken.”
“I guess I’m in your debt. How can I repay you?” His gaze trails down to my lips. “Dinner, perhaps?”
I cross my legs. The intense way he looks at me, similar to the way I’d pore over a mid-century painting, causes the air between us to thicken. His sunshine lemon scent sweetens, making me dizzy.
“After everything that just happened…” After seeing the hungry look in his eyes, I have to shake away the rogue thought that pops into my mind about how good it would feel to be bent over the editor’s desk. “You’re inviting me on a date?”
“I owe you a meal.” He motions to the trashcan. “You said it yourself, I stole the food.”
How am I going to tolerate a boss who goes from cold to hot within seconds, giving me emotional whiplash? The crinkles around his eyes deepen as his smile broadens. Self-assuredness is a quality I find attractive, but damn.
“Business and pleasure don’t mix,” I tell him firmly. “I don’t know what omegas were like at your last college, but at SVU, omegas don’t drop their panties for jerks who steal their jobs, their food, and don’t even thank them for saving their lives.”
“Thank you, Kady.” His deep voice drips with sarcastic sincerity. “For saving my life.”
“You’re intolerable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
An invisible force seems to tug us together, making me thankful that I took a double dose of suppressants this morning.
After stargazing with Riven last night, my sensitivity to alphas’ scents seems to have increased.
I need to keep my omega instincts under control.
However, Calder’s sunshiny aroma appears to be chipping away at my resolve.
Suddenly, the office door flies open, and Devon races in, his usual spikey mohawk uncharacteristically flat and his T-shirt on backwards.
“Devon?” I spin, pleased that his interruption broke whatever moment I was sharing with Calder. “What is it?” It must be serious if he hasn’t gelled his hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without his mohawk 4” high.
“Thank fuck you’re here.” Panting for air, Devon’s gaze flits to Calder. “Who is he?”
“Our new editor.” Devon’s eyes widen in surprise, but I wave away his questions with a flick of my wrist. “Just ignore him.”
“Ignore him?” Calder’s jaw drops. “I think you’ll find—”
“What is it, Devon?” I press.
“It’s the article I wrote for you about the Blandon Pack,” Devon replies. “Did you read it?”
“I skimmed it before I left. It’s not my favorite photo, but it’s exactly what I wanted. Is something wrong?”
“One of the nationals has caught the story and is running it.”
My blood runs cold. “W-what?”
“Here!” He thrusts his phone into my hands to show me a headline on one of the country’s biggest newspapers’ website with the title, ‘Sinclair Heir Packed Up.’
“No, no, no,” I murmur in disbelief.
No courtship featured on The Valley Voice blog has ever made it into national news.
I read the article:
Kadence Sinclair, the daughter of Richard Sinclair and sole heir to Sinclair Enterprises, has officially announced her courtship with the Blandon Pack.
Tyler Blandon, pack leader, gave us an exclusive comment, gushing, “It was love at first sight.” Packmate Kyro Cockburn added, “She couldn’t keep her hands off us. ” In addition, the…
Those traitorous little fucks! I grind my teeth, holding onto Devon’s phones so tightly that it’s a wonder the screen doesn’t crack.
This news story catapults our relationship into a whole new stratosphere.
One that’ll be part of my permanent history, tainting me by association forever.
To make matters worse, my father will go absolutely ballistic to hear that one of the few newspapers he doesn’t own has broken the story with an exclusive. This is all the Blandon Pack’s fault!
“This isn’t good,” I utter.
Calder’s jaw tenses as he scrutinizes his phone, presumably reading the article. “You have a pack?”