Chapter 8 - Brent
I stood in front of my mirror and examined myself. At some point I’d remembered that it was a good idea to call ahead and get an idea of what to wear, and was told that the office was toward the casual side of business casual.
Trousers with a button-up open at the collar seemed to be a good play.
It would have looked good… if not for the circles under my eyes.
I ran a hand through my beard, then hair. Satisfied that everything was sitting properly, I decided that it was time. I made my way down to my car, then drove to the TechSpeed office.
A black sedan sitting outside caught my attention as I drove past toward the municipal parking garage around the corner, but it had moved on by the time I walked up to the entrance.
The receptionist buzzed me in, and I had to force myself not to double over as the scent of my mate hit me.
Mine… omega…
If he didn’t work there, then I’d just missed him. It was the strongest I’d smelled him yet, and if the fate-sickness hadn’t been enough to prove that the scent I’d caught on the beach was him, this was.
“Are you ok?” asked the receptionist.
I swallowed. “Y-yes. I’m…” I took a second to compose myself. “I have a meeting with Dylan Wall at one.”
She turned to a computer screen and clicked her mouse a couple times. “Name?”
“Brent Andrews.”
She studied the screen and nodded. “Thank you, Mister Andrews. Let me call up and make sure he’s ready.”
“Thank you.”
I turned and pretended to look into the lobby while I attempted to catch my breath. But the more I tried, the more I was hit with the scent of my omega.
“He’s ready for you,” she stated from behind me.
I turned back and plastered on a smile. “Thank you.” I paused. “Before I head up, may I ask a quick question?”
“Sure!”
“Something smells incredible. Did somebody just get a food delivery?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No, it’s been fairly quiet. A lot of people have been over at the incubator today to do initial consultations. If something smells like food, then it probably came in with you. Only a handful of people have come and gone in the last hour, and none with food.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it was the mailman or a ShipUs delivery driver who stopped at a restaurant before this.”
She shook her head. “No, all our deliveries were this morning, and our mail comes in the afternoon. It probably came in with you.”
“Must have. Which way to Mister Wall’s office?”
“Oh!” She motioned behind her. “The elevator is there. He’s on the third floor in the big office. You can’t miss it; it’s directly across from the elevator.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!”
I strode to the elevator, and my suspicions that my mate worked there were confirmed when I was enveloped by his scent.
I gripped the handrail, my knuckles turning almost white as I fought back the instinct to burst from the confinement and hunt down my mate.
He worked there. Was he in the building? The receptionist had mentioned that many people were elsewhere. Was he at that other location?
I was so close to having answers, yet he still felt impossibly far away.
His scent was even stronger on the third floor, and it was only the tiniest thread of professionalism that kept me from going office-to-office, sniffing to determine if he was inside.
The door to the largest office opened, and an alpha stood in the frame. “Mister Andrews?”
I nodded and stepped closer. “Sorry,” I lied, “it’s a gorgeous building, and I got distracted.”
There was a beat of silence, and I could feel him studying me.
“Come on in,” he prompted.
“Thank you,” I said as I stepped into his office.
Part of me had expected some relief as I entered his space, but I could still detect traces of my omega’s scent—like he was often there. It was more muted and seemed like a background presence rather than somebody who’d been there within the past hour or so.
“Please, have a seat,” Mister Wall said, motioning to a chair. “How can I help you today, Mister Andrews?”
“Please, call me Brent.”
He smiled. “Call me Dylan. So how can I help you? You mentioned class presentations on the phone?”
I nodded and launched into my spiel. I talked to him about the subjects I taught, and how—especially with the basic computing classes—the students didn’t always believe that the skills I taught were useful outside of school.
I explained my hope that professionals in the field, and people who worked with the latest software, could explain how relevant things were.
He nodded along as I spoke, but I noticed his eyes kept drifting to where I couldn’t control my fingers from tapping the chair’s arm.
The air conditioning kicked on, and brought my omega’s scent into the room. I choked back a whine at how strong it was.
“Are you ok?”
I nodded, probably a bit too eagerly. “Fine.”
Dylan’s eyes were focused on me, and it was almost unnerving.
Then he glanced up at the wall behind me, and his demeanor shifted.
He asked me what core concepts I taught my basic class, then what my intermediate and advanced students learned.
He had me describe the design projects my advanced classes got, and gave me some ideas for updated options.
It felt as if he was making an excuse to keep me there.
We shifted from questions about whether my students would use the skills in their careers, to their excuses about why they thought that they knew all they needed with smartphones, apps, and cloud storage.
The AC kicked on several times during our discussion, and it was pure torture every time it did, as it brought a fresh wave of my mate’s scent in.
Finally, Dylan leaned back in his chair with a nod.
“I think… we can work something out. But I also think the best place to start is with my SaaS expert. He’s the one who’s best equipped to go in and counter the arguments about apps, since he’s the one who knows where they do and, more importantly, do not work. ”
“Ok…”
“He’s out of the office in another meeting at the moment, but I expect him to return any time. Can you stick around the area for him, or are you busy?”
I blinked. “Umm… I’m free.”
“Great. There’s a coffee shop about half a block from here…”
“The Daily Grind. I know it.”
“Fantastic. Adam, that’s my SaaS expert; he goes down there every afternoon for an iced matcha tea. I’ll send him down once he gets back. I’ll tell him what you look like, but in case he doesn’t see you at the door, look for the person getting a drink that looks like blended grass.”
“Blended grass?”
Dylan chuckled. “Yeah. He doesn’t get a matcha latte with milk. Just an iced matcha tea. It’s a vibrant green when compared to the ones with milk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Great.” He snagged a business card from somewhere on his desk. “That’s my direct number. Please call if you have to leave before I send him over. Is the number you used when you called to make your appointment able to take texts?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll text when I send him that way.”
“Ok.”
He stood, and I mirrored the motion.
I expected him to only escort me to his office door, but instead he followed me to the lobby and stopped at the reception desk.
“Amelia?”
“Yes, Dylan?”
“Do you have any of those gift cards for The Daily Grind?”
She rummaged in her desk, then passed one over. “Here you are.”
He handed me the card. “Coffee’s on us, since I’m asking you to stick around.”
“Thank you.”
He turned to Amelia again. “Let me know as soon as Adam returns? I’d like him to meet with Mister Andrews.”
“Will do!” she chirped.
He turned to me again and stuck out his hand, which I shook.
“It was nice to meet you, Brent,” he said. “I’ll talk to Adam after the two of you have a chance to meet, and we can figure out what sort of presentation we can come up with for your students.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for reaching out.”
With that, he escorted me to the door.
The outside air was like a punch to my gut, stripped of the scent that I’d found in the building.
My alpha side demanded I go back inside and find my mate’s office.
I’d have to figure out some way to convince this Adam person to take me back later.
But if nothing else, I knew where my mate worked. It wasn’t much, but it was the biggest lead in almost two weeks.
I’d take it.