Chapter 1 #2
“Our apologies,” Dr. Stanton—Elliot—says as he shoots a look at Gabriel. “We should have confirmed the details ourselves.”
My beta hindbrain fires warning signals.
These aren’t just any alphas—there’s something different about them, something that makes their presence feel more…
concentrated. Like someone cranked up the volume on what makes an alpha an alpha.
And now I’m standing here in my grandfather’s old shirt while they’re dressed for a formal dinner.
“Shall we?” Gabriel gestures toward what I assume is the dining room. I lift my chin and stride forward as if I’m wearing couture instead of cotton. The rest of the alphas fall into step around me.
The dining room, like everything else in this mansion, is designed to impress. A massive crystal chandelier bathes the space in warm light. Fresh flowers scent the air, but they pall compared to the compelling mix of alpha pheromones.
“Wine, Miss?” A servant appears at my elbow with a crystal decanter. When I nod, he pours a crisp pinot that’s a sommelier’s dream. The stemware is so fine I’m afraid my sweaty hands might shatter it.
“The chef has prepared duck à l’orange,” Gabriel says. I’m at his right hand, with Elliot across from me and Leo and Tanner flanking us. “I hope that’s acceptable?”
“Perfectly.” I smooth the napkin across my lap, pretending I eat fancy French cuisine every day instead of stealing bites of whatever’s handy between rushes. “Though I have to wonder why you’re going to such lengths for a simple business meeting.”
“Perhaps we simply enjoy good company.” Elliot’s green eyes sparkle with something that might be mischief.
“Or perhaps you think an elaborate dinner will soften me up before you try to buy my property.”
Tanner barks out a laugh, earning a sharp look from Gabriel. “She’s got you there, Gabe.”
The first course arrives, some kind of creamy soup that smells divine. I take a careful sip and try not to moan as the flavors explode across my tongue. When I look up, I find all four alphas watching me with varying degrees of intensity.
“What do you want out of life, Miss Carmichael?” Gabriel’s question cuts through the silence.
“It’s Kimmie.” I level a steady glance at him. “And I’m already living the dream.”
“Really?” His voice drops lower, and I shiver even though I still feel hot. “Because what we can offer could make your wildest fantasies come true.”
Another double entendre?
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep reading innuendo that isn’t there? These four men definitely want something from me, but it isn’t my body.
And why the hell is it so hot in here?
I take a gulp from my water glass before meeting his dark gaze.
“My grandfather built the restaurant from nothing. I learned to read sitting in those booths, and I learned arithmetic counting change in the register. I live in the apartment on the second floor where my grandma raised two kids. You can’t put a price tag on that, Mr. Stanton. ”
“It’s Gabriel.” He leans back as servers swap our soup for perfectly seared duck. “And everything has a price.”
“Not everything.” I cut into the duck with perhaps more force than necessary. “Some things are priceless.”
“Like your waffles,” Elliot says. “I’ve tried to recreate your homemade syrup in our food lab, you know. Never quite cracked it.”
“You tried to reverse engineer my waffles?” I can’t help but laugh. “In a lab?”
He looks sheepish. “Well, I instructed a team to do it—for the food division.”
“Some things can’t be reproduced in a lab. They need heart. History. A bit of magic.”
“Magic?” Tanner’s eyebrows lift. “In waffles?”
“Haven’t you ever had a meal that was more than just food?” I gesture with my fork. “Something that transported you back to childhood or made you feel—I don’t know—safe and warm and comfortable?”
Four sets of eyes fix on me with a focus that makes my skin prickle.
There’s that strange amplification of their alpha presence again, like they’re broadcasting on a frequency that bypasses my beta immunity.
I give myself a mental shake. They are nothing more than four men, impossibly hot men for sure, but men just the same.
“I feel that way in my art studio,” Leo says.
Gabriel shoots him a quelling glance, but I beam at Leo.
“So you understand.” I turn back to Gabriel. “You can’t recreate the feeling in a laboratory. Or put it in a bank account.”
The room spins slightly. The wine must be stronger than I thought. I take another gulp of water from the glass in front of me. “Would it be possible to turn up the air conditioning?”
“Of course.” Gabriel signals a servant, but his dark eyes never leave my face. “Kimmie, I respect what Waffles means to you. But progress is inevitable. That block is the last piece we need for our new headquarters.”
“Progress? Is that what you call destroying people’s businesses?”
“Not destroying. Evolving.” He sets down his fork and pegs me with a hard look. “And the building we’re proposing would create hundreds of new jobs. We can even make sure your employees find suitable employment if that’s your concern. This doesn’t have to be an adversarial process.”
I laugh, but there’s no mirth in it. “Not adversarial? You want to take away my home, and you don’t think that’s adversarial?”
He sighs. “I’m simply saying we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but I prefer to offer the carrot before the stick.”
A surge of anger cuts through my growing dizziness.
Who the hell does he think he is? Maybe he’s used to women falling at his feet, but I’ve been dealing with entitled suits since I was old enough to bus tables.
Just because he smells like heaven and looks like sin doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and bare my throat.
“Mr. Stanton, I want nothing to do with your carrot.” I pull my napkin from my lap and toss it next to my plate. “Or your stick.”
Tanner’s laugh booms from where he’s sitting on my left side. It’s the first sign he’s been interested in much at the table other than the food.
Gabriel ignores his pack brother’s laughter and continues looking at me.
“You’re not thinking clearly.” His voice sounds almost bored.
“The property taxes in that area are about to skyrocket. Insurance rates will triple when construction begins. And construction will begin, whether or not you sell to us. The street will be torn up for months, killing your foot traffic.”
The room tilts dangerously. “Are you threatening me?”
“Warning you.” His face goes wavy before my eyes. “The smart play is to take our very generous offer.”
I’ve heard people say they see red when they’re angry, but a haze of black edges my field of vision. I push back from the table. My legs tremble as I rise. “The smart play,” I say, “is to tell you exactly where you can shove your generush…gene…”
My words slur, and I feel myself falling. The sensation is oddly peaceful after the fury of moments before.
With what’s left of my peripheral vision, I see Leo lunge toward me. For one confused instant, I think he’s going to attack me physically the way Gabriel did with words. Instead, his arms wrap around me before my ass meets marble.
The last thing I hear is Elliot’s voice as he puts a palm to my forehead. “Fuck! She’s burning up. Call an ambulance. Now!”
Then everything goes black.