15. Tarquin
15
TARQUIN
The office is my sanctuary—dark wood panelling, leather-bound books, and the subtle scent of aged whiskey that permeates the air. Morning light filters through the windows, casting shadows across the antique desk where I’ve been reviewing contracts since dawn.
A light tap on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. “What?”
It opens, and Synthia stands there, dressed in a tight white dress again, but this one is different, with bare feet and smelling of slick. It arouses me more than it should. “Sorry to bother you,” she murmurs. “But I could do with a drink.”
“Does this look like a kitchen to you?”
Synthia hesitates in the doorway, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she straightens her spine. “No, but I tracked the scent of a fine whiskey and, oh, look, there it is…” Her eyes dart to the crystal decanters arranged on the sideboard to the left of my desk.
I raise an eyebrow, studying her. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, and there’s a slight tremor in her hands she’s trying to hide, not to mention the scent of her slick hanging heavy in the air. Something has rattled her, and I have a strong suspicion I know exactly what—or rather who.
“It’s not even seven in the morning,” I say, leaning back in my leather chair.
“I’ve had a difficult start to the day.” Her voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. The scent of her arousal mingles with something else—distress, confusion.
I set down my pen deliberately. “Declan?”
Her eyes widen slightly.
Before she can answer, I stand and move to the sideboard, selecting a crystal tumbler. “What did he make you do?”
She remains silent, watching as I pour two fingers of amber liquid.
I hand her the glass, our fingers brushing. The contact sends an unexpected jolt through me that I refuse to acknowledge. She gulps it back, closing her eyes briefly as the liquor burns its way down before she holds the glass out for more.
I stare at it. Most omegas would be on their arse already, not having the constitution for neat whiskey gulped back like an old drunk barely clinging to the end of the bar. It makes me more curious than apprehensive. I take the glass and place it down. She purses her lips, but then her eyes light up as I pick up the bottle and hold it out to her. Getting her drunk is, without a doubt, the worst idea I’ve ever had, but something about it makes me want to see how it plays out.
Synthia takes the bottle from me with a steady hand, her eyes never leaving mine as she raises it to her lips and takes a long pull. I watch her throat work as she swallows, admiring her boldness despite myself.
“He made me whip him,” she says finally, lowering the bottle. The words hang in the air between us.
I keep my expression neutral, though inwardly, I’m rolling my eyes at my less-than-tactical pack mate, who is always pushing boundaries. “I see.”
“Do you?” She takes another swig, smaller this time. “Because I certainly don’t. I don’t understand any of this—you, him, this whole arrangement.” Her voice has an edge of frustration that cuts through her usual composure.
I move back to my desk, putting distance between us before I fall to my knees and lick her pussy until I’ve taken my fill of her. “You’re not paid to understand.”
“No,” she agrees, following me with those keen brown eyes. “I’m paid to spread my legs and take whatever you dish out. But that doesn’t mean I can’t question it.”
The whiskey has loosened her tongue, or perhaps it’s the lingering shock from her encounter with Declan. Either way, I find her directness both irritating and refreshing.
“Your service doesn’t include interrogating me about my pack dynamics,” I say coldly, though I can’t help but admire her nerve. Most omegas would be cowering by now, not challenging me while drinking my expensive whiskey straight from the bottle.
She takes another swig, grimacing slightly as it burns down her throat. “Your contract also didn’t mention I’d be forced to whip one of you until he came.” Her eyes flash with defiance. “Or is that just a standard service you forgot to list? Perhaps we need a renegotiation.”
I lean forward, resting my palms flat on the desk. “Did you just question the contract?”
“There is no contract, remember?” Her challenge is laid bare, but she is agitated.
I let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I remember. No negotiation. One million for one week.”
“I want two million,” she says boldly, coming closer and placing the whiskey bottle down between us.
I stare at her, momentarily speechless at her audacity. The room feels suddenly charged, the air heavy between us. Synthia meets my gaze unflinchingly, her dark eyes holding mine in silent challenge.
“Two million?” I finally repeat, my voice dangerously soft. “You think you can walk into my office, drink my whiskey straight from the bottle, and demand double your fee?”
She doesn’t back down. “I think I’m worth it, considering what I’m being asked to do.”
I circle the desk slowly, each step measured, until I’m standing directly in front of her. She tilts her head back to maintain eye contact, her spine straight despite the slight tremble I can detect in her lower lip.
“One encounter with Declan and you think you deserve twice what we agreed upon?” I lean closer, deliberately invading her space. “That’s not how this works, Synthia.”
“Two encounters with that psychopath,” she says, holding her fingers up. “I think this is exactly how it works. Half a million to deal with you and half a million for him. He is a loose fucking cannon. You know it, I know it. People know I’m here. If he hurts me?—”
My hand shoots up and squeezes her throat tight enough to cut her off. “He won’t hurt you.”
Her pulse flutters rapidly beneath my fingers as I hold her throat, but she doesn’t struggle. Instead, she stares at me with those defiant brown eyes, refusing to show fear even as I control her very breath.
“Won’t he?” she whispers hoarsely. “Or you won’t let him?”
I loosen my grip slightly, allowing her to speak, but keeping my hand firmly around her delicate neck. “What’s the difference?”
Synthia swallows against my palm, her eyes never leaving mine. “The difference is intent. Is he naturally restrained, or are you his leash? Because if it’s the latter, what happens when you’re not around?”
I release her throat but remain close, our bodies nearly touching. The scent of her—whiskey, arousal, and that sweet omega essence—clouds my judgement more than I care to admit.
“I’m always around,” I say, my voice low. “And the fee remains one million.”
She shakes her head slightly, a bitter smile curving her lips. “Not good enough.”
“Not your decision to make.”
Her hand moves unexpectedly, fingers trailing up my arm with feather-light pressure. “What if I sweeten the deal?” The whiskey has made her bold, reckless even. “What if I give you something extra?”
I capture her wrist, halting her touch. “And what might that be, because from where I’m standing, you have yet to give me the one thing I actually want you for?”
“The purr,” she murmurs. “You wanted me to purr while I came all over your dick. But I can purr all you want for the right incentive.”
“The right incentive? And one million pounds isn’t that?”
“Two.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to make demands, Ms Fuller. Come with me,” I take her hand and pull her out of the office, forcing her to keep up with my longer strides until she is practically jogging.
“Where are we going?” she pants.
“There is something off with your calculations.”
“What is that, then? If you have something dangerous in mind, we are not done talking about the fee.”
I take the stairs two at a time and haul her down the hallway, now half dragging her, squealing, until I reach Tristan’s bedroom door. I kick it open in my fury, not startling Tristan in the slightest, seeing as he must’ve heard us coming.
“Three alphas, not two,” I state, shoving her towards him. “Give him whatever he wants, or you will be out on the street, drunken, shoeless and dressed like a fucking whore.”
She gasps at me as I turn on my heel and march out of the room, my hands shaking with fury at this little omega and what she has done to me. She is cracking the walls, and I cannot allow that. Not with her.