Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Luna
Present Day
Istorm into my office, ignoring Prescott’s good morning.
Yeah, right. Like any morning is good.
Damn. I’m grumpier than usual.
Running my hand down my face, I take a deep breath and open my laptop. I know I have a meeting this morning, but Prescott’s the one who set up the appointment, so I don’t even know what it’s about.
I need to get prepped so I don’t get blindsided during the meeting.
It’s a new client from out of town, which I take from time to time if it involves an omega. Prescott knows the types of cases I’ll take and the ones I won’t.
He better know since he’s been with me since I set up my practice six years ago.
He’s a beta who came to Widows Peak in the beginning to help his omega sister escape their asshole parents.
He’s a couple of years older than me, and when he found out I was going to school to be a lawyer, he decided to become a paralegal.
He did an online program and got his certificate around the same time I passed the bar exam.
I didn’t think I needed anyone’s help, and in the beginning, I really didn’t, but Prescott is persistent. He was a lot less annoying if I just let him work for me.
Now, he’s probably the closest thing I have to a friend outside of my fellow widows.
A friend who helps me through my heats.
That should probably make this weird, but somehow, it works for us.
I haven’t been with an alpha since Christian. I don’t inherently fear them as some of the widows do, but we’re all cautious. I’ve considered it from time to time, but it feels like I’m betraying Christian and my love for him.
I know it’s stupid, but it is what it is.
So every heat, I’ve hooked up with a group of betas willing to wear knot toys. The only constant has been Prescott for the last six years because he knows the score.
I’ve never told him about Christian—the only one who knows about him is Lark—but he knows I’m not looking for anything serious. I try not to have anyone help me more than two or three times before I kick them to the curb.
Outside of my heats, I can’t be bothered to have sex. Not that I don’t want to, but it’s just so much damn work, and there are expectations.
After all, I’m an omega, so I’m clearly looking to settle down—not.
“Pres?” I call out as I pull up my calendar.
His blond head pops into the doorway, his wavy hair messy as always. “What’s up, boss?”
“Can you make me a coffee while I read up on this meeting we have?”
“Nothing would make me happier.” He grins, transforming his boyishly handsome face.
He’s always attractive, but when he smiles? He looks like a damn angel.
Damn it, Luna.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He’s my employee, a kind of friend, and someone I hook up with four times a year. That’s it. There can’t be anything more between us.
I’m not ready to move on from the loss of Christian, and I’m beginning to think I never will be.
“Well, get on with it then.” I let out an exasperated sigh, turning my attention back to my computer.
That’s more like it.
I’m Luna Salazar, ice queen. I just need to remember that and stop thinking about men. All of them—even my lost love.
As soon as he steps away, I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain of grief I’ve never let myself feel.
I’ve been thinking about Christian more often lately, and I don’t know why.
The only thing I know is I’m not getting enough damn sleep because every time I close my damn eyes, I see his face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Here you go, Luna.”
My eyes pop open as Prescott offers me my latte. I know it’ll be perfectly sweet and just the way I like it, but I wonder what he flavored it with today. Last week it was caramel.
I take a sip, eyes widening. “Is that cinnamon roll flavored?”
“It is. You love it, don’t you?” Dimples pop in his cheeks, his sky blue eyes meeting mine. “I know you only allow yourself a sweet treat once a week, so I got some dessert flavors.”
I shake my head. I really don’t deserve him. “You’re a god among men, Pres. Thank you.”
He flushes, ducking his head, and it’s the most adorable thing ever.
Knock it off, Luna.
“Do you need me to fill you in on the new client?” he asks after clearing his throat.
I take another sip of the amazingly delicious latte, but before I can answer, my phone starts ringing.
Prescott gets to it before I can, frowning when he turns to show me who’s calling—Syrus, the town sheriff.
I snatch the phone from his hand and answer the call. “What’s up, Syrus?”
“Would you care to explain why I have three bikers trying to gain access to my town?”
“Bikers?” I frown, glancing up at Prescott, who shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“They say they have an appointment with you.”
“Alphas?”
I can almost hear him shrug. “How am I supposed to know that, Luna? You require your out-of-town clients to use scent blockers when they meet with you. But they’re big fucking guys, so probably. And one of them is wearing a VP patch.”
Shooting Prescott a glare, I click on the appointment on the calendar. “Did you catch the name of their MC? And their names?”
“Sinner’s Pride is the MC. The bikers are Ward Collins, Haru Yamada, and Mackenzie Miller.”
I sigh, finding that’s exactly who I’m supposed to be meeting with.
“Mierda!“ I shake my head, pinning Prescott with another glare. “That’s them. Send them through, Syrus. If I’d known they were bikers, I would’ve warned you. Prescott set up the appointment.”
“Sure, throw me under the bus,” he mutters, and I have to bite back a grin.
He’s getting way too damn comfortable with me.
“Get them out of town as soon as you can, Luna. I don’t trust them. Bikers bring trouble.”
“I hear you, Syrus. I haven’t even had a chance to read up on the case. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t send them away just because they might be alphas.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to remind me what a bleeding heart you are when it comes to omegas who need saving.
” He sighs. “I’m going to send one of my guys over to monitor the office while they’re here.
Call me after your appointment. I know you can’t tell me about the case, but I want to be kept up to date on their comings and goings. ”
“Yes, sir. I’d never want to keep you in the dark about the goings-on of Widows Peak.” Sarcasm laces my words.
Although, there isn’t much that slips past Syrus. He’s a damn good sheriff, and according to Silva, a damn good mate.
He also helped us take out Gideon a few months back, so he’s a stand up guy in my books.
“Bite me.” He laughs. “I’m going to have a chat with them before sending them up. That should give you enough time to read up on why they’re here.”
“Thanks, Syrus. You’re a doll,” I tell him drolly, disconnecting the call, and turning my attention to Prescott. “Bikers, Pres? Really?”
He holds up his hands. “How was I supposed to know they were bikers? Is that a question I should ask when people are setting up an appointment now?”
“No one asked for your snark.” Turning back to my computer, I shake my head. “Something tells me this is going to be a long appointment. I need another coffee.”
“You haven’t even finished the one I already got you.”
I turn my head slowly to blink at him. He makes a face and backs toward the door. “Got it, boss. You need all the caffeine. I’ll make this one a triple.”
He spins around, and my eyes drop to his ass.
Damn it.
It’s really Prescott’s fault that I can’t stop checking him out. He’s the one who wears the tight-fitting pants and corset vests under his suit jacket.
Damn. Did I just think that he was asking for it?
I do need more caffeine.
Fucking hell.
I force myself to focus on the notes Prescott took on the phone interview with my newest clients while downing my coffee.
It’s not even ten in the morning, and I’m already ready to call it a day.