38. Theo
Theo
Callie lets me carry the dessert because she says the cupcakes are the only part of lunch I have shown proper respect for. I hold the box against my chest while she locks her office door, and Dash waits beside her with two paper bags balanced in one arm and his other hand resting low at her back.
He has been touching her like that more since yesterday, enough that she keeps leaning into the contact before she seems to remember anyone can see. I like watching it happen, because her body looks different when it forgets to brace.
The parking garage is bright and warm when we reach it, full of sun coming through the open sides and the smell of hot concrete.
Callie walks between us toward Dash’s car, and his thumb moves once against her waist when she starts telling him about a student who emailed at midnight to ask whether “ethics” was supposed to make them feel personally attacked.
My gaze focuses on his hand, a smile creeping onto my face until Dash notices me staring. He opens the back door for me, then keeps his voice low enough that the question belongs to us before it belongs to her. “We okay?”
Callie turns from the passenger door, her keys still hooked around one finger. Her eyes move from Dash to me, and the warmth in her scent thins with worry too quickly.
I nod and hold the cupcake box tighter. “I like it when you love on her. Her smile is different.”
Callie looks away first, but that only makes the smile easier to see.
It starts at her mouth and spreads slowly, softening her eyes before she hides it by fussing with the strap of her bag.
Dash stills for a moment, then reaches for Callie again.
His hand settles at her back, and Callie lets him guide her into the car before he closes the door.
I continue watching my Beta, the way her scent keeps warming a little before settling. She’s happy, I tell myself. Sloane and Idris used to talk about how she’d bring them lunch and I’ve always been jealous of those moments.
There weren’t many happy ones after Callie left, not like these. These moments are perfect.
The car slowly pulls to a stop, revealing one of the most intimidating buildings I’ve seen.
We climb out and head to the door as I try to keep from gaping at everything in sight.
The lobby has dark floors, glass walls, and people who look up once before deciding whether a person belongs.
I used to think that kind of attention meant danger, but today I have dessert in my arms, Callie beside me, and Dash behind us carrying too much food because he doesn’t trust soup lids.
The receptionist smiles when she sees Callie. “Dr. Monroe, it’s nice to see you.”
Callie’s mouth moves like she still has to remember that title belongs to her here too. “Hi, Lena. We’re here to interrupt your boss with soup.”
Lena looks at Dash first, then at Callie, then at his hand still settled at her back.
Her expression stays professional, but her eyes brighten in a way that makes Callie’s blush deepen.
“Mr. Ward said to send you straight up if you arrived before one,” Lena says.
She presses a button under the desk, and the security gate clicks open.
“He also said Mr. Rivera was not to steal anything from the bags before you reached the conference room.”
Dash looks at Callie. “Which Rivera?”
Callie presses her lips together, holding back a laugh.
Sloane is already in the hallway when the doors open.
He sees Callie, and for half a breath the carefulness comes back.
It shows in his shoulders first, in the way his hand flexes at his side instead of reaching, in the quick sweep of his eyes over her face like he is searching for every possible sign that touching her might be too much.
Then he remembers what she asked for.
“Baby,” he says, and crosses the hall before the elevator doors have finished closing behind us.
Callie barely has time to laugh before his hands close around her waist. He pulls her into him in the middle of the corridor, not rough, but not cautious either, and kisses her like he has been waiting all morning to do it.
The first kiss is still a little careful at the edges, but Callie’s fingers curl into his shirt and he answers by pressing closer instead of pulling back.
An employee turns the corner with a tablet in one hand and stops before he takes a full step into the hall. He looks at Sloane, then at Callie tucked against him, and his attention immediately shifts to the wall beside them with the desperate professionalism of someone who has chosen survival.
Sloane lifts his head, breathing harder than a hallway kiss should leave anyone breathing, but his hands stay on Callie. His thumb moves once at her waist, and Callie’s blush deepens as she turns her face partly into his shirt.
“Mason,” Sloane says, his voice rough but steady. “Conference room in ten. And don’t pretend like you’ve never seen me kiss my Beta in the hallway.”
Mason clears his throat and keeps his eyes carefully above Callie’s shoulder. “Yes, sir. Ten minutes.”
He leaves without looking back, and Callie presses her forehead harder into Sloane’s chest. Her shoulders shake once, not quite laughter and not quite mortification, while Sloane bends his head to kiss her hair like being embarrassed by him is something he has missed.
“You can't say that to employees,” she mutters.
“I can say it to Mason.” Sloane’s arm tightens around her waist, holding her where she has already chosen to stay. “He once walked in on Idris threatening a client with three separate contract clauses before breakfast. This was gentler.”
Callie lifts her face enough to glare at him. The effect is ruined by the color still high in her cheeks and the way her hand remains curled in the front of his shirt.
Dash stands beside me with the lunch bags in his arms, watching Sloane keep Callie close in the middle of Blackline’s hall. His expression doesn’t change much, but I see the moment settle over him. Sloane is trying in public, and Callie is letting him.
Idris appears from the far end of the hallway with his sleeves rolled to his forearms and his tie loosened. His eyes move over all of us, then stop on Callie where Sloane still holds her, and the cool line of his mouth softens.
He comes to her without speaking first. One hand settles between her shoulder blades, above Sloane’s arm, and he bends to kiss her temple with the same unhidden claim Sloane gave her.
Callie reaches for his wrist as if she needs to answer the touch with one of her own, and Idris lets his hand stay there once she has it.
“Did you eat after your morning class?” Idris asks.
Callie’s mouth opens, but Dash answers before she can make coffee sound like food. “She had coffee and three bites of a granola bar while answering emails.”
Callie turns her head slowly. “That was not a request for testimony.”
“It was an answer to the question.” Dash moves past us into the conference room and sets the bags on the table. “You can object after you eat something with protein.”
Sloane looks down at her, and the concern on his face almost pulls the hallway quiet again. He catches it before it can turn sharp, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth instead.
“We brought lunch,” Callie says, softer now.
Idris looks at the bags, then back at her. “Then come eat.”
Sloane releases her only enough to guide her into the conference room, his hand staying low on her waist. Callie lets him steer her two steps before she glances back at me.
I hold up the cupcake box. “I protected dessert.”
“You protected it from everyone except yourself,” Dash says from inside the room. “One of the lemon ones is missing frosting.”
I look down at the box, betrayed by evidence I forgot to hide. “It was loose.”
Callie’s laugh escapes before she can stop it. Sloane’s face changes at the sound, and for a second the whole hallway seems to breathe around him.
Idris takes the box from me with grave care. “We’ll address dessert tampering after Callie eats.”
I follow them into the conference room, still watching Callie, loving the way our Alphas just immediately circle around her. The center always told me I’d want to be in the center of the pack but I want to be right here, watching my woman get every bit of love she deserves.
I chew on my bottom lip as Idris sits beside Callie, stares at the few inches between them and then pulls Callie’s chair closer to his before she sits.
She looks down at the chair scraping over the carpet, then up at him, and the expression she gives him is half warning and half helpless affection.
“You’re being a nuisance,” she whispers, a chuckle in her voice.
“Yes.” Idris sets the cupcakes at the far end of the table and takes the seat beside her. “You told us to bother you.”
“I said I wanted you to love me like before.”
“This is part of the service,” Sloane says, settling on her other side with one hand already on the back of her chair. “You submitted a broad request.”
Callie’s mouth opens, then closes again when Dash sets a container of soup in front of her and brushes a kiss to the top of her head before taking the seat across from Sloane. I brace myself as Sloane’s scent darkens but it takes me a moment to realize why.
The ache on Sloane’s face feels like a private moment, the Alpha seeing a version of Callie’s life he missed. Then Callie reaches beneath the table, and his hand disappears under the edge of it to meet her.
Lunch spreads across the conference table in quiet, practical pieces.
Dash sets the sandwiches near the middle, Callie opens the soup containers before the lids can steam themselves soft, and Idris has already placed water, fruit, and extra napkins within reach like he expected half of us to forget we have bodies.