2. Blake
Blake
The elevator doors at Keller Industries open as I lean a little harder on my cane, the silver handle cool against my palm, and step out into the lobby. Maceo is half a step behind me but he’s not hovering, which is why I haven’t fired him or bitten him yet.
“Operational details,” I repeat. “That’s a very polite way of saying you’re the one who has to talk to the vultures so I don’t drop dead in the middle of a sentence.”
Maceo stops at the glass doors of my executive suite, muffling a chuckle as he waits for me to open the door myself.
My desk is exactly where I left it, but there’s a second workstation set up near the window that now belongs to my Gamma.
I huff out a sigh, both hating and loving the idea of his presence in my office.
Moving to sit in my chair, the leather creaks beneath my weight.
I immediately reach for my tablet, my fingers itching to dive into the latest build for the Ember House expansion’s virtual walkthrough, but Maceo sets a glass of water and a small plastic pill cup on the mahogany surface before I can tap the screen.
“Nine o’clock,” he says.
“Already? Fuck.”
Maceo cracks a smile. “Yes, genius.” He doesn’t move. He stands there, a pillar of immovable patience, until I pick up the pill and swallow it. I hate the way the water feels cold in my throat.
“Lunch at noon,” Maceo adds, moving toward his own desk. “I’ve already cleared the schedule for the hour. No investors, no calls. Just food and silence.”
“I have a company to run,” I snap, the irritation familiar. “I can’t just vanish for sixty minutes because my pulse decided to be dramatic three weeks ago.”
Maceo sits down at his own desk but doesn’t look up from his monitor. “You can run the company from the breakroom or you can run it from a hospital bed. I’ve already calculated the efficiency loss for both. The breakroom is more cost-effective.”
I glare at the back of his head. He’s exactly what I need, and that’s the most galling part.
I turn back to my screen, but I find myself watching him in the reflection of the glass. He handles the emails that used to make my jaw ache. He takes the calls from the attorneys who are trying to find cracks in our merger agreements.
Maceo flags an investor response for language that gives the board too much discretion and tells me he won’t send it as written.
I remove the clause, reject two of his other changes, and approve the final version.
He sends it without another argument. He doesn’t need the last word, and I don’t need to carry the conversation long enough to prove the decision is mine.
The morning passes in a strange, rhythmic quiet.
I dive into the design work, adjusting the lighting parameters for the expansion wing.
I want the hallways to feel warm, not clinical.
I want the Omegas who come to Ember House to feel like they’re walking into a home, not a facility.
It’s the only way I know how to help Luca by building the world he envisions with a level of technical precision that makes it real.
At eleven forty-five, my hands begin a faint, rhythmic trembling. I look at the clock. Maceo doesn’t say a word. He stands, grabs his jacket, and waits by the door.
We’re halfway through a silent lunch in the executive dining room when Luther’s name flashes on Maceo’s phone. Maceo answers on the first ring, his face hardening instantly.
“Luther,” Maceo says. He listens for a moment, his brow furrowing. I stop chewing. My heart gives a small, rebellious thud against my ribs, and I force myself to breathe through it. Maceo looks at me, then hits the speakerphone button.
“...directly on my personal line,” Luther’s voice rumbles through the speaker, tight with a restrained Alpha growl.
“Victor didn’t even bother with the office.
He wanted to talk about ‘transitional opportunities’ at Keller Industries.
He had the audacity to suggest that with my ‘recent family distractions,’ I might be looking for a way to offload the operational burden. ”
I feel anger slide down my spine. “Transitional opportunities?” I ask, my voice like a serrated blade. “That’s corporate-speak for a fire sale, Luther. He thinks we’re weak because I had a cardiac event.”
“I told him to go to hell, Blake,” Luther says, and I can almost hear him pacing in his office. “But it wasn’t just the request. His voice... he sounded frayed. Less polished. Like a man whose employer is losing patience.”
The call ends, leaving the room feeling colder than before.
Employer. The word catches, though I don’t know why. Victor has always presented himself as the person directing the attack, and nothing Luther heard proves otherwise. Still, the word remains with me after the call ends.
By the time we get home, the corporate world feels like a distant, gray memory.
The house smells like Grayson’s slow-cooker stew and the chaotic, high-energy scent of children who’ve been outside for too long.
James and Samuel are in the living room, surrounded by a mountain of pillows and a very confused-looking plush dragon.
I glance around, looking for my heart to find Luca curled up on the couch, passed out with Rosalie in his lap, Luther gently stroking his fingers through our Omega’s hair.
I settle a little just as the twins perk up at my arrival.
“Papa!” Samuel shouts, sprinting toward me. He stops just short of a collision, his eyes going to my cane. He’s learned to be careful, a fact that breaks my heart a little more every day. “I take the rings! I chose me!”
“Did you now?” I say, letting Maceo take my coat as I sink into the armchair.
Samuel nods and picks up a small decorative bowl. “I can walk slow.”
He moves across the rug with exaggerated care, holding the bowl in both hands.
James sits on the floor with a page in his lap, drawing a deep dip in the middle of the ring pad. “The rings go here so they don’t roll off if Sam falls.”
Samuel hugs the bowl to his chest and frowns. “I can walk slow.”
“Then walk slow,” I say. “And James can make the dip.”
Both boys nod, satisfied with the plan as I look between Samuel’s careful practice route and James’s increasingly elaborate cushion plans.
The children have approached this wedding with more preparation and seriousness than any of the adults.
To them, it isn’t a complicated public declaration or another decision waiting to be finalized.
It’s happening, and they intend to be ready.