41. Cassidy #2
Did that really just happen?
“Wow, you’re not just cozying up to Mercer and Varrick, you’re moving in on the ladies, too,” Gemma says darkly. “Can’t you just do your job without begging for this attention, Cassidy?”
“I’ve never once wanted any attention, Gemma, and I don’t have to cozy up to Harlan and Silas. They’re my scent matches—my mates.”
I tug my blouse down ever so slightly, showing off my claiming marks.
She shakes her head, anger pouring off her so viciously I flinch.
“Fuck you, Cassidy,” she hisses, mascara-dark lashes framing eyes suddenly bright with tears. She jumps up from her chair, shoving it into the desk before charging away from me.
I gape after her, wondering if I should follow her and try to smooth it over… or, if maybe, I wasn’t entirely in the wrong.
“You look the complete opposite as to how you should,” a familiar alpha says.
I turn to find Orion balancing two champagne flutes in one hand, his light blonde hair already slightly mussed from walking the floor, expensive watch catching the office lights.
He grins at me, and I stand from my chair, trying to return it.
He passes one of the glasses to me, his large hand steady enough that not a drop spills, despite people constantly brushing past behind him.
“You’ve a rockstar, according to Harlan,” Orion says, tapping his glass lightly against mine, amber eyes crinkling with an easy smile.
Heat floods my face. “It wasn’t—”
He chuckles. “You know, Seph’s been talking about you.”
My eyebrows shoot upwards. “Me? She’s the one who has done phenomenal.”
Orion smiles. “She has, yes. Thanks to you for advocating for her so passionately.”
My flush deepens, travelling down my neck now. “Everyone deserves their chance.”
And I can’t deny there’s something about the omega that calls to me.
Orion’s smile softens. “I know you probably think you didn’t do anything special. But I won’t forget it.”
He says it so matter-of-factly I wonder if my face gave me away.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Oh.”
He nods once. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He disappears into the crowd, and the noise of the bullpen seems to fade around me as I watch him leave.
A laugh escapes me, shaky and embarrassed.
“I think I need five minutes,” I say to nobody. I place the champagne glass on the table and manoeuvre my way through the people to try and find some air.
I slip away towards the bathrooms, weaving between little knots of people laughing over champagne before anyone else can say something that makes my eyes start prickling with tears.
I don’t stop walking until the bathroom door swings shut behind me.
The noise from the bullpen muffles almost instantly, replaced by the familiar hum of the extractor fan and the gentle rush of taps somewhere further along the sinks.
Quiet.
Thank fuck.
I brace my hands against the cool porcelain, letting out a slow breath. I look at myself in the mirror, taking note of the flush in my cheeks and the light in my eyes.
Today has been a lot. Not in a bad way, but I’m absolutely edging towards becoming an overstimulated omega if I can’t take a few minutes here and there away from all the scents and the noise. Even my own scent feels a little stronger than usual.
My eyes sting again, and I shake my head firmly at my reflection.
“Don’t you dare,” I mutter, giving myself a warning look. “Crying because people were nice to you is ridiculous.”
My reflection doesn’t seem convinced.
Bitch.
My phone vibrates against the marble counter, and I glance down automatically, expecting more good news from the campaign.
Instead, it’s someone better.
Frankie
It looks like launch day is going well.
My entire face lights up. I swipe the notification open, and before I can reply, another message arrives.
Frankie
Congratulations, Cass.
Frankie
If anyone deserves this, it’s you.
Warmth blooms through my chest. My thumbs fly over the keyboard before I can overthink it.
Cassidy
Thank you!
Cassidy
It’s been absolutely mental these last two weeks.
Cassidy
So I am very glad things have gone off without a hitch.
Three dots appear almost immediately and then disappear.
I smile to myself. He’s probably trying to think of something sarcastic to say.
Frankie
I bet.
A tiny crease forms between my brows.
That… wasn’t very Frankie.
Usually, he’d have followed it up with something about me surviving entirely on caffeine, or asked if Harlan had exploded yet, or reminded me to actually eat lunch for once.
Anything more than this.
Frankie
Always knew you’d smash it.
Cassidy
I didn’t do it by myself.
Cassidy
We’ve all worked so hard.
His reply takes longer this time. Long enough that I end up absentmindedly straightening the sleeve of my blouse while I wait.
Frankie
I knew you’d bounce back from it.
My chest aches unexpectedly. We’ve talked almost daily since I ran into him and Gemma at the restaurant, but this is the one subject we’ve not broached.
His company stealing our campaign.
Cassidy
It wasn’t really me, honest.
Frankie
Maybe not.
Frankie
But I’m proud of you.
Frankie
Get back to your celebrations, okay?
Cassidy
Thank you. We’ll have to catch up in person properly soon. I miss you.
Frankie
Yeah, maybe.
I chew lightly on the inside of my cheek, watching his little bubble, waiting for the next message.
I don’t know what’s going on with him right now, but it makes my stomach knot.
Even when we reacquainted ourselves, things weren’t awkward like this. It was like no time at all had passed.
Frankie
If you want to, we can.
Frankie
But I won’t hold you to it.
What?
I’m so confused, but he’s right that I need to get back. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe our launch’s made things hectic over there. Who knows.
I lock my phone, making a mental note to ring him properly tonight instead of relying on text messages where you can’t interpret tone properly.
With one last look at myself in the mirror, I smooth down my blouse, push thoughts of Frankie firmly aside, and step back into the celebration.
The sound of celebration immediately washes back over me, and I’m welcomed into the fray, music a little louder now, another glass of champagne being passed to me.
I take the flute with a grateful smile, murmuring my thanks before weaving carefully between little clusters of people.
Someone has music playing quietly from their phone, almost drowned out beneath conversation, and every few seconds, another burst of applause erupts somewhere on the floor as another set of figures comes through.
I’ve never seen Opus like this, but it’s amazing. I smile to myself as I pause beside one of the display screens mounted between the glass meeting rooms.
There’s a bunch of social posts rotating through, comments and likes climbing faster than I can read them. As it rolls over to the next creative, two familiar faces fill the monitor.
Persephone and Evren.
They look like they belong together.
I read the copy beneath this photograph, and I can’t help but smile.
SIGNATURE
Nothing about you was ever meant to be replaced.
The words settle somewhere deep inside me.
They’re talking about fragrance, I know this. Their focus is on finding the formulation that works with who you already are instead of trying to change yourself.
But somehow, it feels bigger than that. I have to swallow around the lump in my throat.
Harlan really did it. He found the heart of the campaign.
I take another sip of champagne, looking around the office again.
Signature.
It’s everywhere.
Around me, laughter bubbles through the bullpen, conversations overlapping as people congratulate one another, already talking about what’s next.
I smile to myself. For the first time since I walked through Opus’s doors… I don’t feel like I have to prove I belong here.
I already do.