Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte
She wakes in the morning to the smell of bacon and cinnamon and baking bread. Only Alex is left in the bed with her, Silas and Tomas apparently being the source of the delicious scents wafting through the house.
She is snuggled right up against the brunet, her head pillowed in his chest and her arms wrapped around him with her leg thrown over his. He has his own arm wrapped around her back and resting lightly on her hip.
She doesn't remember falling asleep, but she's still wearing the bath robe from last night. She also cannot remember waking and feeling so safe and warm before in her entire life. Maybe when she was a baby, before her parents died.
"Thank god, you're finally awake." She both feels and hears him say it, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling through her body with how close she is pressed against him. "Tomas must feel bad, he never bakes from scratch anymore."
She shivers as memories of the previous night come back to her.
Alex moves to the edge of the bed, pulling her with him.
There's a gift bag stuffed with pretty glittery wrapping paper on the side table and Alex peeks in then snorts derisively.
"Yeah, that's an apology. Here, baby. Get dressed.
I'm going to go steal a pair of his pants and then we can go downstairs to eat. "
He saunters over to Tomas' closet as Charlotte peeks into the bag to see the day's clothing offering.
It's a matching knit sweater and lounge pant set in a deep caramel colour.
She reaches in to touch it and when her skin grazes the fabric, she gasps.
It feels like a cloud, like she knows she's touching something, but it's so soft she can barely even feel it.
It is undoubtably the most wonderful thing she's ever touched, softer even than that sweater they had given her that she wore almost all the time now at home.
She looks down at the tag, which reads Loro Piana 100% Vicuna Made in Peru.
She shrugs off the robe and slips the shirt on over her bare chest, shivering as the fabric touches her skin and teases her nipples, silky and soft and light as a feather. She quickly pulls the pants on too and feels like she might be in sensory heaven.
Alex comes back from the closet wearing a pair of dark blue joggers and a 1/4 zip sweater looking like he walked right off the cover of GQ with his dark hair and handsome face and day-old stubble.
The sweater pulls lightly at his chest and shoulders, his physique just that much broader than Tomas.
His face is appreciative as he approaches her and runs a hand lightly over her sides, feeling the softness of the fabric over her slight curves.
"You should send Tomas into a pseudo-rut more often," he purrs, his tone slightly mocking, but somehow, she knows that the scorn is not directed towards her. "You look good, baby girl."
She nearly chokes as the meaning of his words sink into her head, though. "What do you mean a pseudo-rut?"
She knew the phrase in theory. A sort of hormonal surge like an alpha has during a rut, making them more aggressive and sexually charged. It was usually a sign that a rut was approaching, like a heat spike for an omega. But... she couldn't be causing that in him, could she?
He quirks a teasing brow at her, leading her out of the bedroom and towards the source of the delicious smells of breakfast.
"I'm sure you've noticed by now that Tomas tends to lose control of himself when he's with you.
It's been driving him crazy. He's been working out extra, jerking off all hours of the day, makes us all sleep in the bed together like one snuggly little pack of puppies.
He's even trying to take rut suppressants.
Whatever he thinks will balance his hormones.
Whatever he thinks will make him less likely to bend you over and knot you every time he sees you. " He looks down at her and smirks.
The thought that Tomas might be so affected by her that he lost his careful control sent a powerful surge through her. But they were approaching the kitchen, and she was too scared to ask more questions where the others might hear.
As they enter the sun-filled room at the back of the house, Charlotte sees Tomas and Silas chopping and peeling fruit together at the island like a well-oiled machine.
Standing shoulder to shoulder like that, with Tomas' blonde hair contrasting with Silas’ ashy brown, both broad shouldered and muscular, Charlotte feels warmth pooling between her legs where she is still sore.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Silas smiles at her warmly as they enter. "Did you sleep well?"
She slept better than she ever had in her life, surrounded by them all night. "Yes, thank you," she responds, returning his smile.
"Breakfast is in the warmer," Tomas says as greeting, adding the final slices of fruit to the tray and gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards the dining room.
At her spot at the table, Charlotte's eyes are immediately drawn to a tidy stack of papers next to her plate.
Silas follows her with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and presses a pen onto the table next to her hand as he slides behind her.
She picks up the papers, unable to stop her curiosity as the others silently pile in the room behind her. And wow... they worked fast.
The first page is a job offer for the position of a part-time personal secretary to Silas Stirling, Alex Butler, and Tomas Front.
The pay was an astronomical sum that she knew even the senior managers at the company likely didn't make.
The benefits included sixteen weeks of paid vacation, a generous pension match and benefits package, as well as a visa sponsorship.
The next few pages were paperwork for the visa, which was already almost entirely filled out, save for her signature and date.
She can feel her mouth gaping open and takes a seat automatically, not sure if she's going to faint. How did they find time to do all this?
Tomas moves behind her and takes his seat at the head of the table, looking between her and the papers still clutched in her hand, waiting for her to say something.
"This offer doesn't list my responsibilities or qualifications," she says finally.
"You're qualified," Alex says with a quirk of his lips, piling food onto his plate.
"You can't possibly mean this, I mean, the pay is—for part-time—and the vacation time—" She's stuttering, unable to string any of her thoughts together into any semblance of coherency.
"We certainly do mean it, Ms. Hines," Tomas says.
At the formal use of her name, in that voice, her spine automatically snaps straight.
"The pay reflects how highly we value your contributions to our company.
The vacation time is what we allot to ourselves so that you can join us if you wish to.
The visa sponsorship is simply righting an injustice.
You should not have been denied an adequate visa based solely on your designation.
We want you to finish your graduate program.
Your contributions to the academic world are valuable. We consider this an investment."
An investment... that made sense. They liked their arrangement, and they wanted access to her. Offering her this job would mean they had her around more and could bring her with them when they went away. Of course. That all made sense.
Her head feels like it clears a little.
She nods slowly. "Okay," she says. "Okay, I understand. Thank you. This is so generous."
She signs her name quickly and dates it before sliding the confusing pile of paper back to its place beside her plate.
Tomas looks satisfied as he nods and then, as per their custom, he begins filling her plate with breakfast. She doesn't even know what some of the fruits are, they're so exotic, but they look ripe and juicy and her mouth waters when he places a large steaming cinnamon roll next to it. Along with three pieces of bacon.
"I hope you will consider the offer to live here as well," Silas says hesitantly. "I know I would feel better knowing you are safe and fed and cared for. And we have the space."
When she doesn't answer, he quickly continues. "You could have your own room. It would be private. You could put a lock on it if you wish. We wouldn't enter it without your permission. You don't have to worry about that."
They thought she was worried they would come in without asking? They thought she wanted privacy from them?
She was worried she would end up sleepwalking into one of their rooms in the middle of the night and try and mount them while they slept like some sort of prowling predator.
She was terrified that the intimacy of living together would drive her to say or do something stupid, like ask them to bite her again.
"I-I mean, yes. Yes. If you're sure. I would like to live here. With you. I don't need a lock."
Before they've even finished breakfast she pulls out her phone and sends an email to Tim with her notice effective immediately, and another to her landlord cancelling her lease.
When she announces it's done, Alex arranges to have the rest of her kitchen items and furniture put into a storage unit.
A nervous sense of anticipation settles in her stomach like a rock.
It was really happening. Everything was changing so quickly. She refused to allow herself to start worrying about the what ifs. What would happen if they broke up, what would happen if she did something stupid like tell them she loves them, what would happen if she went into heat...
She forces herself to push the thoughts out of her head. Beneath the fear, she allows a buzzing excitement to take hold.
"Which bedroom is mine?" She asks, and she cannot contain the wide smile from breaking through. She bites her lip, trying to contain it. They take her upstairs to the room where her presents usually waited for her.