9. Severance & Bonds
Chapter 9
Severance & Bonds
B rinley was sure there were at least one thousand reasons she should be running at top speed in the opposite direction from Lennox Mitchell. She had worked hard for most of Sunday to keep an objective eye open while they’d just essentially hung out, taking the time to talk about whatever popped into their minds. The only time he truly flexed his wallet was in his insistence on having her apartment cleaned while they were out, including laundry. She’d thought the suggestion was absurd—no matter how much she wasn’t looking forward to the task—but he made the call anyway. And when he took her home that night, after a long and surprisingly comfortable day, her jaw had nearly scraped the floor to see that her apartment was cleaner than she could ever remember it.
She blamed that shock, that bubbling gratitude, and most definitely not any internal desperation to keep him near her, for why she had agreed to accompany him the following day. She had no business being part of this. It really should make everything more awkward.
Yet awkward was not what she felt as she followed Lennox down the familiar little hall that led to the veritable bullpen that was her former place of employment. She felt … strong. Strangely empowered. There was a flicker of apprehension somewhere in her chest, but it didn’t catch. And she suspected all of that was to do with the powerful alpha walking just ahead of her, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides of the hall before he cleared it. Even in the glare of the fluorescent lighting, Lennox looked every bit the indomitable businessman he was as he strode into the room in a pressed charcoal suit that pulled perfectly against his muscles.
She nearly forgot, just for a moment, about the equally sharp-dressed pair of lawyers following behind her. Lennox’s team, though she’d been so flustered outside she’d already forgotten their names. It was strange how that sensation had vanished the moment Lennox had squeezed her hand and led the way inside.
Brinley forced the reflection from her mind for the time being, her gaze traveling over her former colleagues while she side-stepped closer to Lennox. He’d asked her to stand with him, and if she was being genuine in her pursuit of giving him— them —a chance, she needed to act like she belonged there.
Her colleagues were visibly restless and every pair of eyes swung to Lennox immediately. It didn’t take long for most of them to shift to her, and most of those to show visible surprise or suspicion. Her firing the previous week hadn’t been quiet.
“What the fuck is this?” Jerrod demanded, his tone startlingly aggressive, as he rounded from his cubicle. He gestured between Lennox and Brinley, but of course his glare landed on her. “You were fired , you useless—”
Lennox snapped his fingers, the sound so unexpected in the otherwise silent space that it caught everyone’s attention and even managed to shut Jerrod up.
Almost simultaneously, the lawyers went into motion. The younger of the two hefted his briefcase, swiftly unlatching it with a single hand and balancing it on his other arm. The older one reached inside and extracted a slim folder that couldn’t possibly contain more than a few sheets of paper. Nor could he have actually seen what he was grabbing, yet he turned and with efficient movement passed the folder to Lennox.
Brinley watched as Lennox thumbed open the folder and her brows nearly leapt off her forehead. Inside was a single piece of paper, beneath a crisp, green bill. She couldn’t quite see it well enough to identify the number, but she was thoroughly intrigued.
“Jerry, was it?” Lennox asked without inflection.
Brinley bit back a laugh.
Jerrod, of course, bristled at the barb. “ Jerrod .”
Lennox ignored him, further proving his perfection, and handed over the half-open folder. “Your severance package.”
A few of the other employees murmured as soon as the words left Lennox’s mouth.
Jerrod’s gaze dropped to the folder. His nostrils flared and his face immediately turned red. He yanked the cash from within and raised it up for emphasis as he began to shout. “ Twenty dollars? What the hell is this?”
Brinley sank her teeth into her lips in an effort to keep a straight face.
Lennox’s response was cool and even. “It’s what you’re worth.”
Someone in the back snorted.
Jerrod got redder. “You son of a bitch! You can’t treat me like this! I’ve been with this company for—”
“That company no longer exists,” Lennox said, projecting his voice. “This is your last day. All of you. You have until noon to accept your individual severances, sign the papers, and remove your personal affects. My teams take over the building promptly at noon, anyone lingering will be charged as trespassers.”
Multiple voices spoke at once.
Jerrod took a step closer and chucked the manila folder at Lennox. “Fuck you and your stupid severance! You can’t treat me like this!”
Anger sparked in Brinley’s chest as she watched the harmless folder and the lone sheet inside tumble to the floor. The items had rebounded off Lennox this time instead of her, but the visual was a reminder of her last experience under this roof all the same.
Lennox didn’t flinch, or otherwise react to the weak assault. “Technically,” he said, his low voice carrying effortlessly, “your employment ended two days ago.” He motioned to his patiently waiting lawyers and the briefcase that remained propped open. “These offers are unnecessary reflections of my generosity , to which you are not entitled.”
It was almost laughable the way more than one of her former colleagues managed to look confused at his words, and even offended.
Lennox added one final note. “If you choose to decline these offers, then leave. Immediately.”
Brinley watched Jerrod fold the twenty-dollar bill over his fingers and slide it into a pocket. She watched him turn, stomp back to his desk, reach across and grab his weathered fanny pack from underneath. She watched as he shoved his phone and several smaller things—a stack of half-used sticky notes, a handful of pens, a handheld hole-puncher, his preferred form of white-out strips—inside. She watched him toss the pack over his shoulder, making no bones about the items he’d just stolen in plain sight, and turn back around to walk past them. All with the twenty still in his pocket.
She balled her hands into fists, snatched up the paper he’d rejected previously, and stepped in his path. Though it made her skin crawl, she smacked the paper against his chest. “If you’re going to take the money, and all those things that never belonged to you in the first place, then the least you can do is sign the damn paper, Jerry.”
For as often as he’d belittled her, she realized in that moment he’d never looked at her with true hatred before. Because he definitely was now. “You calling me a thief, Young?” He raised his voice before she could answer. “This is obviously your fault! You stupid, useless slut!”
A larger hand closed around Jerrod’s throat, silencing him even as it hauled him out of swinging range. With a rush of movement Jerrod’s fanny pack was split open and spilling its not-so-secret insides across the floor while Jerrod himself slammed into the nearest wall. But nobody moved, because they could all hear the warning growl in Lennox’s voice. “Stealing from me in front of me was one thing. But under no circumstances will I be passive while my woman is being disrespected.”
Jerrod sputtered.
Brinley flushed, immediately self-conscious and yet at the same time, shamefully flattered.
Lennox cut a glance to his lawyers. “Retrieve the twenty. His offer is officially rescinded. This fucker isn’t worth our time.”
Jerrod tried to squirm as the older lawyer stepped closer, actually attempting to twist away and block the other man’s reach. “Y-you can’t touch me,” he managed to gasp, his voice strained. “This is assault!”
“Yes, please,” the lawyer said, his voice dripping with something like sarcasm blended with eagerness, as he extracted the twenty. “Do go on.”
The room went almost uncomfortably silent save for Jerrod’s labored breathing.
Finally, Lennox stepped back and released Brinley’s ex-coworker. “Get off my property.”
Brinley shuffled again closer to Lennox as Jerrod moved to retrieve his things, carefully keeping herself out of reach of the man with the odor as nauseating as his personality. This time, Jerrod snatched up only his phone and his fanny pack before stomping with an audible huff from the room.
He threw them a finger over his shoulder for good measure.
Lennox produced a packaged sanitary wipe from an interior pocket, wiped his hands, and dropped the items in the nearest waste basket. Then he faced the gawking room and spoke in a firm, projected voice, “There’s no need for this to become an altercation. Each of you has a unique severance package I am prepared to offer. It’s your choice to take it or leave empty-handed. Any other questions?”
A couple of people exchanged looks, someone shook their head, and one of the more ambitious of Brinley’s former colleagues took a single step forward. He’d never been overtly rude, or especially social, so she had no idea what he was about to say. “Mr. Mitchell,” he began, as if he were conducting an interview, “I would be willing to waive whatever offer is attached to my name in exchange for an exclusive interview. It’s been several years since you were known to be involved with anyone, I’m sure the world would love to hear that story.”
Something in Brinley’s chest clenched. What the hell had she been thinking? Their little publication may never have gained much notoriety, but at least half of them had been fairly serious in their goals. Lennox had basically paraded her in front of a group of hungry animals!
Lennox, of course, was unperturbed. “Interviews are not on the table today.”
His words had the reverse effect of reminding the rest of the room that they were, supposedly, in the business of catching headlines. For the next five or twenty minutes it seemed like the air itself vibrated with variously worded demands for the story of their meeting and any and all information on how serious their relationship really was. Or whether or not it was a relationship at all. She actually thought she might only have heard that half-insinuated comment from one voice, but it snagged in Brinley’s mind even as Lennox guided her out the door.
What are we?
Her feet moved as her mind whirled. She knew what he wanted them to be. The irrefutable proof of it still marked her skin. But she … wasn’t as sure. Mating bonds were a big deal. There were no take-backs on those. There was no un-bonding process, no spiritual divorce, nothing like that. It was an all-in, lifetime commitment type of thing. So a person had to be damn sure.
Yet he had chosen her. She didn’t understand.
No one ever chose her.
Compelled by an old pain, Brinley spun around instead of ducking into the waiting Rolls Royce and latched on to Lennox’s nearest sleeve. She didn’t really want to think about the expression she might be wearing, because if it at all reflected the way she felt, it was twisted and pained and utterly unpleasant. Shamefully desperate in a way she couldn’t describe. “You know, don’t you?”
Lennox frowned. “Know what, Brinley?”
“My past. My story.” She licked her lips. “You know I basically grew up in an orphanage, right? That I have no one. That I was tossed out of every foster home I got assigned to. You’ve done that research, right?” She didn’t know why it mattered, let alone why she absolutely had to have this conversation in the parking lot outside her former place of employment. Everything about the situation was wrong. But he did need to know. If he didn’t already, he needed to know what sort of woman he was suggesting tying himself to.
She needed to know whether or not he’d known before he had shown up at her door.
His expression softened and Lennox closed the small distance between them, raising both hands to cup her face in his palms. “Of course I know,” he said, speaking quietly. “And if you choose to tell me about that time of your life, I’ll listen. But understand that where you grew up and how much money you did or did not have—none of that means shit to me, baby. I made my choice based on the woman in front of me. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Her breath faltered and Brinley managed only a weak smile. It was exactly the answer she should have expected, and yet hearing the words melted something in her chest.
Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me, sir.”
The bubble around them burst and Brinley remembered with a start where they were. How exposed they were. She fought not to duck behind Lennox’s larger frame as Lennox himself adjusted his hold on her and turned enough to face the man who had intruded on their moment.
His driver. “My apologies,” the driver said with an incline of his head. He followed with a small, but clearly deliberate, sideways angled sweep of his wrist that pointed his fingers outward toward the street. “I believe you’re being watched, sir.”
Brinley winced. Of course. People are probably still lingering. Even assuming the spy was one of her ex-colleagues, she curiously turned her head in the indicated direction. To the spy’s credit, she didn’t immediately see anything odd. No gawking reporters, no less-than-subtle paparazzo, not even an illegally parked car with a driver who cared only for the best shot.
Lennox grunted. “Start the car.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lennox reached around Brinley even as the driver scurried back to his seat and pulled open the door. With his lips at her ear, he murmured, “We’ll finish this conversation in private.”
Tingles danced their way down her spine and Brinley nodded before she could think better of it. She had no business agreeing to that, or anything else he offered. But the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to spend with him. The more she saw of him, the more she wanted to see. And the more she shared with him, the more she was forced to consider that whatever was between them was possibly greater than an impulsive, hormonally driven claim. The prospect of which was as exciting as it was petrifying.
****
Damn Matilda and her spy games. Lennox had finally blocked her number after her interruptive call the day before, and he had to assume she was physically stalking him now because she’d figured that out. He had no idea what had come over the woman. They’d been broken up for years, and they’d never been particularly affectionate in the first place. But she was sure behaving like a jealous, jilted lover.
He resolved to deal with that later, in a way that would least upset Brinley. Which probably meant lawyers and formal proceedings that would aggravate him and ruffle feathers between both his father and Matilda’s, but Lennox was hard-pressed to care about that friendship. It mattered a hell of a lot less than protecting the privacy, and assuring the safety, of his soon-to-be mate.
This time, Brinley let him take her home. She allowed him to show her the estate on which he lived, and he was glad to note that the more she took in, the more she seemed to relax. Whatever thoughts of her past she’d let in and in whatever they had begun to trouble her, she was fighting them off.
Of course he’d learned about the basics of her orphaned history during his initial search. Some of the details had come in while he’d been locked up with her and so he hadn’t read them over until later, but they wouldn’t have made a difference. And looking at the surely lonely, emotionally traumatic tragedy of her past spelled out on paper, Lennox had found himself feeling more like some type of invader than ever before. That wasn’t the sort of information a man should be learning about his partner without their consent. So, he’d set it all aside in a locked file and resolved to read no further, to wait until she was ready to open up to him about her past on her own terms. He knew enough, at least, to be comfortable accepting that his instinct hadn’t finally led him astray.
Lennox raked his eyes over Brinley’s curvy figure as she walked just slightly ahead of him, her fingers tracing along the detail of a miniature, Grecian-styled statue positioned in his backyard. She seemed enraptured. He knew he was.
It had been scarcely longer than twenty-four hours since they’d last fucked, and considering that had been the tail end of her off-cycle heat, she certainly needed more rest. But damn if he didn’t want to just walk up behind her and sink inside what he already knew was the perfect pussy. Let her cling to the statue of someone’s interpretation of an old god while he pounded into her and filled her with his cum, again.
Lennox gave his head a hard shake and dragged in a breath in an effort to clear his mind. And that was when he finally realized something that had been right in front of him all damn morning. “I can smell you.”
Brinley squeaked and her shoulders tensed before she slowly turned, putting the statue behind her. “That’s not the most gentlemanly thing to say.”
He frowned and stepped closer. “Did you forget your lotion? Or are you not taking your suppressants?”
Her cheeks flushed as she tilted her head back to keep his stare.
He loved the way she so rarely shied from his stare, almost as much as he loved that blush.
“I can’t,” she finally whispered, her blush deepening. “I won’t cycle properly if I take the suppressants, so I … have to wait.”
Understanding dawned. Because they were half bonded, they were on the not-so-proverbial clock. She had to choose whether or not to accept him before the completion of her next heat. If her next heat was unnaturally delayed there was risk of interrupting or possibly outright shattering a bond they might otherwise wish to forge. Even he knew there wasn’t a lot of research behind the correlation between omega hormone suppressants—which were limited as it was—and mate bonding.
Brinley blew out a breath and moved into his space, resting a hand on his chest. “I have a wild idea.” She searched his eyes for a second, but didn’t wait for him to prompt her. “Let’s talk about ugly things.”
Lennox arched a brow.
Her lips twitched. “If we’re going to seriously consider a lifetime together, we need to be able to at least have civil conversations about the difficult, more controversial things. The things that rip families apart. The things that spur violent mobs and protests and even wars.” Her smile faded. “Let’s talk about religion, tolerance, and politics. And of course, an omega’s place.”
It was his turn to smile. She was right that those could be ugly topics, and certainly were known to drive wedges between loved ones. It wasn’t a bad idea at all.
Lennox kissed her forehead, then curled an arm around her back and adjusted to aim them toward the house. “Let’s sit down with lunch and settle in. We have all day.”