Cassidy #2
It’s beautiful and unfortunately costs more than I make in a year here. I tried to protest, tried to return it, and all he said was that the next gift will be better.
Because every time I try to return something, Evander takes it as a personal insult towards his taste.
So, now I need to figure out how to store it, what kind of insurance I need in case anything happens, how to clean it… honestly, I’ve got plenty of jewellery but nothing to this scale.
My parents are wealthy, but their idea of a good gift is a first edition of your favourite book or a handwritten recipe card tucked inside a new mixing bowl. Not a necklace that requires its own insurance policy.
I much prefer the sweet, sentimental kinds of gifts.
“Oh, it was a gift,” I say softly.
“Hm.” Gemma turns the necklace over in her hands, the diamonds catching the light.
“It must be nice,” she says softly.
She sets it down carefully, almost reverently, and then looks at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Having people this obsessed with you.”
I look down at the folders on my desk and feel guilty for having things she clearly wants more than I do.
“It’s pretty,” she adds.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” She shakes her head, and her eyes drift past me towards the shelf, where three vases of flowers sit in a row—white peonies, pink roses, and a tall arrangement of something I don’t even know the name of, all of them still fresh, still fragrant.
Her gaze moves slowly across them, and something shifts in her expression.
“Are the flowers another courting gift?”
She can tell?
“Oh, yes.”
Gemma’s fingers drift to the petals of the pink roses, and she strokes one slowly, almost absently, like she’s forgotten I’m in the room.
“My mum is in hospital,” she says. Not to me, exactly. To the flowers. “I’d bring her some myself, but.” She exhales. “You know how it is.”
“Take them,” I say immediately, already on my feet, instinctively wanting to soothe the sharp distress souring her scent. “Take all of them, please, take whatever you want.” I round the desk before I’ve finished the sentence. “I’m so sorry, Gemma. I didn’t know. How long has she been in?”
“Hm?” Gemma asks, already reaching for the roses. She lifts the vase with both hands, steadying it against her chest, and turns towards the door. “Thanks, Cassidy. Oh, and just leave the files on my desk when you’re done, would you? I’ll need to head out a little early.”
My stomach tightens sharply anyway, and I nod. “Of course.”
She pauses with her hand on the door, and when she turns back to look at me, there’s something careful in her expression, something that wasn’t there a moment ago. “You’re a babe.” She blows me a kiss. “Oh, and is there any chance this can stay between us?”
“Always,” I promise. She grins, bright and easy, and something in my chest tightens. “I hope your migraine eases soon. And your mum— I really do hope she gets better.”
“Thanks.”
And then she’s gone.
I follow her to the door and close it softly behind her. The latch clicks, and it’s like the sound echoes through the room. I press my forehead against the wood and stand there for a moment, one hand still on the handle, breathing slowly until the tightness in my chest begins to loosen.
Gemma and I are friends. She’s never judged me for being an omega trying to work in fashion as a stylist rather than as a model, and even admitted she was the one to change up a design on our second week.
Sure, it turned out well, but she could have gotten into a lot of trouble.
“This is going to be a long week,” I mumble, looking through the first folder Gemma brought me.
She’s done some of the work, but a lot of it is incomplete.
Far more incomplete than I expected.
My stomach twists uneasily as I flip through another missing section, then another. I keep flipping, and it only gets worse.
She must truly be struggling if she’s fallen this far behind.
Guilt immediately follows the thought. Migraines are awful, and Gemma is my friend, and friends help each other. That’s just what this is.
If she’s this overwhelmed already, then she probably needs help far more than she’s willing to admit.
I pull my laptop closer, opening another spreadsheet as my inbox continues steadily filling throughout the afternoon.
By half past one, I’ve given up on lunch entirely.
By quarter to three, every instinct in my body is begging for rest, water, food, and I keep ignoring all of it.
Adding Gemma’s workload on top of my already chaotic schedule should probably terrify me more than it does.
Instead, I just feel relieved she trusted me enough to ask.
Useful omegas are loved omegas.
***
I scrub tiredly at my face before freezing as a soft knock sounds against my open office door.
“Hello, hello, my gorgeous little daisy,” Evander drawls, already halfway into my office before I can stop him.
His thick brown hair is still slightly messy from sleep, the soft waves somehow making the broad alpha look less intimidating than he should at 6’3”.
But the moment his forest green eyes meet mine, heavy lashes lowering slightly as his expression darkens, I realise my mistake.
I didn’t think anyone would be visiting me this early, but, of course, he had to be the exception and see me in my makeshift pyjamas.
Well, an oversized shirt is practically the dress code for pyjamas.
“What are you wearing?” he demands.
“Um—” I start, but thankfully, he cuts me off before I have to try and lie to him.
“Did you sleep here?” he demands.
He closes the door behind him, broad shoulders seeming to fill half the tiny office, and even though I shouldn’t, relief loosens from me in a soft sigh as his scent fills the air.
Dark, bitter chocolate.
Rich and fresh coffee.
Hot—like roasted beans drizzled in chocolate—warm enough that I immediately want to sink into it and use it to ease my exhaustion.
It’s delectable.
Almost like the protective, possessive alpha is trying to drown out everything that isn’t him.
“I’m on a bit of a deadline,” I admit, looking at the pile of Gemma’s work that I’m making my way through.
It ended up far too late by the time I realised it last night, and I figured it was better to stay in my office rather than upsetting my papa at that time of night.
Mum and Dad are away, so it’s only him at home, and Papa was much more receptive to my staying here than they would’ve been.
“My nest is comfortable,” I continue quietly, looking down at my paperwork before meeting his gaze.
“Cass, love, you can’t stay overnight here,” he says, his scent sharpening with frustration. “It’s not safe or allowed.”
As per usual, he doesn’t hesitate to drop into the seat opposite me.
“It won’t happen again, sir,” I promise.
He frowns. “We’ve had this discussion, daisy, and—”
“What can I do for you, Van? I’ve got a lot to do.” The words come out harder than I mean them to, and I watch something flicker across his face before I can stop myself from looking.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just—” I press my fingers to my temple. “I have a lot to do. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Don’t be sorry for being overwhelmed,” he says softly, but even though his words are sweet, I can’t help but think it’s another failure in his eyes.
He already thinks I can’t handle things. Now, I’m proving him right.
He leans forward, elbows finding the desk, and the early morning light catches the faint scars across his knuckles.
“You look exhausted, Cassie. Are you well? Do you need to see the doctor? I have a friend who owns a hospital.”
Of course, he does.
“No, I’m not unwell. I’m just busy.”
He shakes his head, something shifting in his expression as his eyes drop briefly to the pile of Gemma’s work. “I see. I brought you a gift.”
“I asked you to stop bringing these courting gifts, Van.”
He winks at me, all mischievous despite the sharp cut of his jaw and the intimidating breadth of his chest.
“Who can say for sure what you said.” The corner of his mouth pulls up slowly, the kind of smile that knows exactly what it’s doing, and he sets the small box down on the desk between us. “Are you going to open it?”
An alert pops through my computer—then another, then three more in quick succession—and my stomach drops as I’m already reaching for the keyboard.
“I’m sorry, I have to—” I don’t finish the sentence as I start typing.
His face drops, and the rich chocolate in his scent dulls before he nods.
I’m already engrossed by the time the door clicks shut behind him, and I don’t look up.
The afternoon light slowly shifts across my desk. My coffee goes cold at my elbow. Somewhere outside my office, the building hums and murmurs with the sounds of other people’s days.
Then my keyboard slides cleanly out from under my hands.
I shriek loud enough that the people downstairs will definitely have heard it, and Evander’s laughter is immediate and enormous.
Evander’s eyes are alight with his humour. “Really, daisy? Very dramatic.”
I press my back against my chair, one hand finding the desk’s edge, the other clutching the collar of my T-shirt, and I breathe.
“That was not kind of you.”
“Neither was ignoring my present for the past four hours,” he says, dropping into the seat opposite me. He puts his feet on my desk and swings back on the chair.
My face twists into a confused grimace as I look at the clock. It’s already late afternoon.
Shit.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, staring at the clock. My hands are still hovering over where my keyboard was. “I haven’t—I didn’t even—” I look up at him, wilting at the concern in his expression. “I haven’t moved.”
“Oh, yeah, because that’s better,” he says with a pout. “You didn’t even realise I left. And you’ve not even cared enough to open the present I picked.”
I reach for the small box, and my jaw aches with how hard I’m pressing my back teeth together. I keep my eyes down. I keep my mouth shut. I keep my hands from shaking, mostly.