Chapter 7 Mattaniah #2
"In the most depressing corner of the building." He tilts his head toward the hallway. "My office is quieter and the coffee doesn't taste like it was brewed last week."
Everything Mom trained into me says an Alpha who seeks you out is an Alpha who wants something.
Dominic's directness I can see coming and brace for, but Amos' warmth puts me more on edge because I never learned how to defend against kindness.
Mom's marks were never kind enough to require it, and kind is exactly what Marcus was right before everything blew up in my face.
But Richard might come looking if I stay visible, and Amos is already walking away like my following is a foregone conclusion. The break room is depressing enough that even a potential trap sounds better than another twenty minutes of eating alone.
I follow, the ease of the decision bothering me more than the decision itself.
His office is smaller than I expected, cluttered with the organized chaos of someone who actually uses their desk for work instead of intimidation. His scent saturates the space with a thread of Dominic underneath that tells me the two of them spend time in here together.
The combination hits me in the chest and I press my nails into my palms as he drags a chair from the other side of his desk and positions it right beside his own, close enough that our elbows will nearly touch.
I sit because objecting would mean explaining why the proximity bothers me, and that explanation would crack open things I can't afford to let out.
"You studied business, right?" He angles his monitor toward me. "Finance concentration?"
"How did you know that?"
"Your file." He says it like reading someone's personal history is just how Tuesdays work around here. "Father keeps dossiers on everyone in this house. Yours mentions a degree from Baruch with a focus on financial analysis."
Nobody has ever shown the slightest interest in my education.
Mom called it a waste of time and Richard hasn't acknowledged it all morning.
I went to school on scholarships and stubbornness, fitting classes between Mom's operations, and the degree has sat unused since graduation.
Hearing Amos mention it does something to my chest that I don't trust at all, because the one piece of me nobody's ever valued is suddenly being held up to the light by an Alpha whose warmth already makes me stupid.
"Look at this." He pulls up a spreadsheet and shifts closer. "Southeast division revenue forecasts. See these projections for Q3?"
My training kicks in before I've finished scanning the column. "They're inflated. The growth rate doesn't track with the historical trajectory. Someone has adjusted the baseline to make the upward trend look organic, so the real value is somewhere between twelve and fourteen percent."
Amos goes still beside me.
"Sorry, I don't mean to, I know it's not my—"
"Don't apologize." Something sharpens behind his glasses, a wicked smile forming on the Alpha’s lips. "You caught that in thirty seconds. It took me ninety minutes."
I try to curl in on myself, but any of the training I should be following falls to the wayside.
He praised me. Clearing my throat, I bite back the excitement that comes with being right about something and brush off my accomplishment.
"It's just pattern recognition. My, um, my actual concentration was forensic accounting.
" The words tumble out the way they always do when someone's attention makes me nervous.
"The technical term is fraud detection. The fabrication isn't subtle if you know the markers. "
He walks me through the rest and I forget to keep my guard up.
The data pulls me in because I love this work, and Amos feeds that love with questions that treat my intelligence as worth engaging.
He asks what I think and waits for the answer.
He builds on my responses instead of dismissing them.
My scent sweetens as my guard drops because my stupid body can't tell the difference between an Alpha who respects my brain and one who's using my brain as bait.
Amos' nostrils flare at the shift. He leans closer to point at a figure on screen, his breath grazing my ear. He doesn't need to be this close, and we both know it.
"This routing number here. What does that tell you?"
My head turns to answer, the movement baring my throat. I don't register the Omega response until Amos' fingers are already there, tracing the line of my neck from jaw to collarbone. The whimper that escapes me would be humiliating if I had any dignity left to protect.
His fingers settle against my pulse as he turns my chin toward him, his thumb stroking my cheekbone before he presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is soft, barely there, my body answering before my brain gets a vote.
My lips part and my hand finds the front of his jacket because the warmth of him fills something hollow in my chest that I've been pretending doesn't exist. He tastes like coffee and pine and something underneath that makes me want to crawl into his lap and never leave.
He pulls back just enough to break the contact, his thumb still moving against my skin. "You don't have to fight so hard, Niah. Not with us."
That us hits me like ice water. It means this isn't just Amos.
It's both of them, both of my stepbrothers, and I just kissed one twelve hours after the other made me come apart in the dark.
I push away from him and to my feet, immediately putting distance between us.
"I need to get back, thank you for the, um, the coffee and the spreadsheets. "
Amos catches my wrist as I turn. His thumb finds my pulse and presses against the hammering there for two seconds before he lets go. "The offer stands, Niah. Anytime you need somewhere quieter."
I make it two steps out into the hallway before the woman this morning leads me to the executive floor.
“You’ll be over here, Mattaniah. Should Mr. Hale need you again, he’ll call you on your desk phone.
” She points to the item in the corner. “Mr. Hale had me place some documents on your desk to sort but if you need anything, please let me know. I’m sitting a few cubicles over. ”
She disappears and I plop into my seat, ignoring the bland work I’ve been given just so Mr. Hale can keep an eye on me. That’s all this is. I press my hands flat on the desk until the shaking stops.
"You okay?" The woman from the break room perches against the neighboring partition with a manila folder giving her an excuse to linger. Now that she’s so close, I can pick up her muted scent, the Beta faintly smelling like a floral shop.
"I'm fine, just settling in."
She checks the hallway and drops her voice. "You were with Amos Hale. I saw you leave the break room together."
"He was showing me some company reports."
"I'm sure he was." There's no malice in it, but the weight behind the words tightens my skin. "Look, this is none of my business. You seem decent and I know they’re family but someone should probably tell you."
My hands go still on the desk.
"Dominic Hale will ruin your life and won't lose a minute of sleep over it.
He doesn't get close to people, he acquires them.
Anyone who's thought otherwise has walked away with their career in pieces.
" She watches my face as that lands, then continues.
"But Amos is the one you really need to watch, because Dominic at least looks dangerous, so you can see him coming.
Amos will make you feel like you're the most interesting person in the building, and by the time you figure out what's happening, you're too deep to climb out. Those Alphas are bad news."
She taps her folder against the partition and walks away. She's probably right about all of them, and Mom would definitely agree. But two of those Alphas touched me this week without once making me feel like existing was an inconvenience, and I don't know what to do with that.