Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
~Harlow~
The alarm blares so loudly, it reminds me of an air horn. I’m tempted to smash my fist against it as soon as I wake up, or even better, toss it out the damn window that doesn’t even lock.
At least this morning, I could sleep in a little, even though I can hardly describe my sleep as anything close to restful. My skin feels like it isn’t a part of me anymore, as if it’s crawling and the bed beneath me is alive.
Sitting up, I shudder with disgust, as violent as ever.
Yep, it’s clear that I need to take another shower to get rid of the bedbugs.
I’m sure the dirty stairwell behind the plaza would have been a cleaner choice to spend the night instead of the bug-infested bed in the shitty motel room I had to pay money for.
So much for thinking anything would be better than the streets.
The streets would definitely be better than this.
After rummaging through the small number of toiletries I own, I hop in the shower and scrub my skin so hard with my loofah that I’m surprised I didn’t scrub off a dozen layers of my skin.
With the strength I have to use, I might as well just scrape all of my skin off.
If only that would help eliminate the awful feeling those bed bugs left on me.
As I finally focus on scrubbing the shampoo into my hair, which I’m sure is now infested with the critters from the seedy bed I slept in, I hear my phone ring on the nightstand next to the bed of nightmares and despair.
I let it ring out, fully aware that I don’t have to be at work for an hour. Instead of running around the motel room like a lunatic to pick up the phone, I close my eyes and rinse the shampoo from my hair. Then, I turn the taps off and step out of the shower.
My hand reaches out to retrieve a towel, but once I notice the state of it, I drop the idea and opt for my clothes from yesterday and use them to dry myself.
The phone on the nightstand starts ringing again while I struggle to dry myself, figuring out that clothes aren’t the most effective way to reach my goal.
Cursing under my breath, I race out of the shitty bathroom and snatch my phone. Dread pools in my stomach, and my heart nearly stops when I see Thane’s name on the phone screen.
Hesitantly, I answer it, bringing the phone to my ear with a wildly shaking hand.
“What part of being a personal assistant did you fail to understand when you read the job description?” he growls through the phone, sending a cold shiver down my spine.
Thane is scary, and if he can scare me like this during a phone call, I fear what he could do if we were to stand face-to-face right now.
But, as I focus back on his words, I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes because the bastard may somehow notice that.
As for his question, I didn't understand the personal assistant part because I applied for a damn receptionist position, not to become an Alpha's personal, perfect little coffee-bitch.
"My apologies, sir, I was taking a shower and didn't hear the phone ringing," I answer as politely as possible, while in reality, I wish I could kindly invite Thane to suck on my imaginary dick, or even better, to fucking choke on it and die.
"Fucking useless Omega! I need you to wait for the mailman out front," Thane snarls at me, sounding far more pissed off than he was a moment ago. There goes the give and get principle—I give him kindness, he gives me shit. Fucking prick!
"Around what time does he arrive?" I ask and slowly lower the phone from my ear to check the time. Well, that's not the only reason. I also do it to avoid the high risk of this Alpha asshole screaming so loud I go deaf.
"6:30 a.m.. The package I'm waiting for has to be signed for. If I have to collect it from the post office—you’re fired!” Thane snaps and hangs up on me.
I stare at the phone screen in disbelief until the numbers finally make sense and dread fills my gut. Fuck! I have barely ten minutes until Thane’s stupid mail carrier arrives.
I guess it’s a good thing I chose this crappy motel because the office building is only a street away. I race around the room, grab my clothes, and dismiss the ironing board I set up. If Thane wants me in at such an ungodly hour, he has to take what he gets.
I hurry to rip my clothes on, the fabric sticking to my wet skin, and I barely manage one clasp on my bra before I snatch my de-scenter and suppressants.
Hurriedly, I tip the bottle of pills to my lips and down three tablets right before spraying the de-scenter over every inch of me. I toss the can in my bag, throw the bag over my shoulder, snatch the keys, and pick up my heels by the door.
I have no time to fiddle with the damn heels, so I rush out the door and quickly lock it behind me.
It’s not like I have any valuables anyone could steal, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I check the knob, ensure the door is locked correctly, and race for the stairs.
Halfway down the steps, I jump the rest to be faster.
“Not today, you fucker. You won’t be firing me today!” I hiss under my breath as I run like someone set my ass on fire, and honestly, I’m pretty sure Thane would gladly do that if I’m late. Well, that and fire me, whichever that heartless asshole prefers.
I’m sure he would get the word ‘fired’ branded on my ass just to prove his stupid point. That’s how petty the scary motherfucker appears.
By the time I finally reach the huge skyrise building and nearly vomit up my lungs—just in case anyone is wondering—my hair is dry, and I’m sure it looks as messy as a bird’s nest.
The postal delivery officer stands next to his car, about to get in, and I push myself harder, almost tackling the poor elderly man before he can close the back of his van.
“Keller documents!” I pant out, clutching my sides, wondering if he even understood the gibberish words I just blurted out. I must look like a madwoman to him.
“Miss? Are you okay? Do you need help? Can I call someone for you? An ambulance, or maybe the police?” the kind man offers as I clutch his arm, still struggling to regulate my breathing back to somewhat normal.
“My boss, Mr. Keller, he’s expecting a package, and I’m here to sign it for him,” I gasp out, grabbing my sides with more force as I feel a sharp stitch in one of them. Body, don’t you fucking dare to fail me now!