Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Reece
“Anyway,” Rue says, picking things up in the shed I’ve taken over, “I still cannot believe Queen Bee actually mentioned Heath.”
I don’t know why she’s in here, but she’s been rambling for nearly an hour while I work. It would be rude to ask her to leave, considering the property belongs to her family.
I can’t get anything done.
I glance up from the half-disassembled music box in my hands. “You think her last Stitch was about him?”
Rue whips her phone around toward me and points. “Reece. Listen to this.” She clears her throat theatrically before reading aloud. “‘Pretty on paper. Respected title. Ego polished to a mirror shine. Yet somehow still manages to disappoint every person unlucky enough to stand too close to them.’”
She lowers the phone slowly, then points toward the house like she’s presenting evidence in court. “That is absolutely about Heath. It can’t be anyone else!”
I snort before I can stop myself.
Rue gasps triumphantly. “See! You think so too.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I say, suppressing a smile. “It could be about anyone.”
“In our family? She mentions ours specifically.” She holds the screen closer to her nose. “And seven years, no mate? It’s so Heath. The QB is calling him out big time.”
I shake my head and go back to the music box’s gears spread across the table, but Rue is already rereading the stitch under her breath, growing more scandalized by the second.
I’m only allowed to get lost in my work for about two minutes before Rue’s moved on to the next thing. She makes a sharp turn, knocking over a box of random odds and ends.
“Oops!” Rue drops to her knees as several tiny gears skitter off the table. She hurriedly starts scooping the runaway pieces back into the box before glancing up at me sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say and help gather the spilled ones on the workbench. “Seriously. I do it all the time.”
“Maybe if it wasn’t so crowded in here.” She glances around the shed. “I didn’t even know we had half this stuff.”
She shouldn’t be out here. This isn’t a place for an Omega like her, surrounded by forgotten treasures. So why does Marigold seem to fit?
“I don’t mind, actually.” I glance around at the shelves of trinkets. “Everything in here is waiting to be used. Waiting for a new life.”
Her attention drifts toward the music box sitting near the edge of my workbench. “Ooooh.” She carefully picks it up. “This is pretty.”
The wood is pale in some places where I’ve sanded it down, but I made sure to avoid the design of delicate carved vines twisting across the lid, interrupted by cracks I haven’t fully repaired yet.
“Did you make this?” she asks.
“Not completely.” I lean against the table. “I found it broken a while ago. I’m just fixing it up.”
Rue turns the box over in her hands, inspecting the repaired hinges and freshly replaced gears inside. “Well, whoever tossed this out was stupid.”
I shrug. “Most people see broken things and stop there.”
Her eyes flick up to mine briefly before she asks, “So who’s it for?”
The question catches me off guard. “I-I don’t know yet,” I lie.
But I do. I’ve known since the moment I pulled it free, holding potential in my hand.
Rue hums like she absolutely doesn’t believe me. “Sure you don’t.”
“Rue!” Mari’s voice breaks into whatever I was about to say.
I have no idea what it was. But I snatch the music box out of Rue’s hands and toss it into the box of random bits. She slides me a look.
A second later, Mari steps into the shed holding two glasses of iced tea in her hands. “Are you bugging Reece?”
Rue crosses her arms. “No. Are you?”
“I’m bringing drinks. I was looking for both of you, actually.” And she hands one of the glasses to her sister and sets the other down on the bench by me. “I made cookies, too, but they’re still cooling in the kitchen.”
“What!” Before Rue even takes a sip, she passes the glass back into Mari’s hands. “Lemon and lavender cookies?”
“Yep,” Mari says. “I think this may be my best batch yet. That stand mixer was a big help.”
Rue’s eyes are big as she looks between me and her sister. “I’m outta here. Those cookies are mine!”
She races out, and it makes her sister smile, which makes me smile.
Mari comes over to my side at the workbench. After taking a sip of the iced tea, I realize I’m thirstier than I thought. I end up downing half of it, refreshing and exactly want I needed.
“I hope Rue didn’t talk your ear off,” Mari says with a chuckle. “She can be a little…much. Especially when she’s got something on her mind.”
“It’s fine. She’s definitely a breath of fresh air,” I say.
Since I can’t work on the music box with Mari here, I pull out the vibration box instead, along with the spec drawings I’ve been absentmindedly sketching across scraps of paper since the ball.
“Did you ever figure out what that will be?” Mari asks.
I glance up briefly, and her calm gaze stays fixed on me, moving from my hands to my face. “I have an idea but it’s still in the early stages.”
She runs fingers over the sketches I made. Crude doodles and notes written in haste, just to get the ideas down from the book before I returned it to the library.
“They’re not as good as yours,” I say.
“I think they’re great.” She tilts her head slightly. “Beautiful actually. You really have an eye for things, Reece.”
Warmth climbs up the back of my neck in an instant, and her floral scent seems to thicken in the cramped space around us.
Like all Omegas participating in the Season, she’s wearing blockers, but somehow I can still smell her through them.
Sweet. Warm. Distracting enough to make my head spin a little.
I look back down before she notices how much that affects me.
I’ve heard enough conversations drifting through the Gardener house to know how things work—about heats. About how intense they are. How painful they can be if an Omega doesn’t have the right support, the right care, the right…someone.
I don’t know if Mari’s had hers yet. I don’t think she has. And I don’t like the idea of her going through something like that alone—or worse, being forced into a choice just because her body leaves her no room for anything else.
My jaw tightens.
I need this idea to work. Not just in my shed. Not just on paper. Out there. In front of someone who can actually make it real.
Because I don’t want Mari hurting. Ever.
If I can make the voice box work for Omegas in heat, to mimic the exact tenor of an Alpha…
How many women can I save?
She brushes past me, inspecting the chaos of half-fixed machinery and scattered pieces of trash like she always does, and the brief closeness sends a sharp, distracting spike of emotion through my chest.
“The next ball has been announced,” she says, pausing beside the upgraded weed trimmer I’m rebuilding for Derrick. “The Ackermans are hosting.”
I nod automatically. “I remember them.”
She smiles faintly. “Doris Ackerman’s actually nice. She’s exactly what the Monarch likes. Rich family. Proper. Wants an Alpha husband and babies and all that.”
I hum in agreement but I’m distracted, still thinking the heat-box problem over in my head.
Then Mari adds, almost casually, “Mr. Stockton’s coming back this Season, too. He’ll be there.”
The name grabs my attention. I look up sharply. “Mr. Stockton?”
She nods. “You remember him, right? I told you what he did to Vi. The dog. I’m surprised he’s showing his face on Sabine again after that stunt he pulled, but he’s desperate, I guess. His age and still not mated, can you imagine? He’d better hope he doesn’t bump into Stephan or Heath or—”
“Mr. Stockton…” Pen’s suggestion to speak to him is replaying in my head.
Mari’s brow furrows. “Uh, yeah. He’s the CEO of Nexacore Pharmaceuticals. They create most of the scent blockers and contraceptives on the market.”
Nexacore.
They’re everywhere—medical tech, development, experimental management treatments for all denominations. They are the kind of company that doesn’t just follow innovation…they set the standard.
And Dominic Stockton is at the center of it.
“Reece? Are you okay?” Mari’s worried voice sounds miles away now.
I’m already too deep in my own thoughts to pull myself out. Everything is clicking into alignment with such force it makes me dizzy.
That’s why Pen suggested I talk with him. But she couldn’t have known why, not really. She doesn’t know about my vibrating invention.
Coincidence? Luck?
Does it matter if the end result is the same?
Now I have a plan. I need to meet with Mr. Dominic Stockton. With his help, the box could be something bigger. If it works—if it actually works—it could change everything.
For me.
For Derrick.
For Omegas everywhere…and most importantly, for Mari.
Without her heat, there would be no need for an Alpha. No reason to participate in the Season at all. She could choose me—
The moment the sentence lands my heart skips a beat and my throat tightens, cutting off my air supply. I grip the side of the table with enough force to crack the wood.
“Reece?”
Finally I manage to push out, “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
I’m more than fine. I’m great.
But first, I need to find a way into the Ackermans’ ball.
It’s late, and shadows weave throughout the garden.
The night is quiet, like half the city has already headed out to the party. Then again, most of the people in this well-heeled Upper Side neighborhood are planning to attend.
The Gardeners are gone and my brother’s off doing God-knows-what at the Lower Side tonight.
My palms won’t stop sweating. All the excitement I had for this idea washes down the drain the more real the risk became.
This is insane.
Every second I stand here waiting, the reality of what I’m about to do sinks deeper into my bones. If this goes wrong, I’m screwed. Not just fired. Ruined. People don’t forgive Deltas for stepping out of place, especially not during the Season.
I could be thrown off Sabine.
Headlights sweep briefly through the trees before a beat-up pickup truck rolls silently in front of the townhouse.
Relief punches through me. The cavalry is here.