Page 84 of Chosen Beta

He sighs. “I’m only here to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, whether you’re here or not.”

“So, you don’t think there’s a threat to your safety?”

“I refuse to believe that anyone in this building means me any harm.”

“Pete seems to think one of the security guys is sketchy. He has good instincts when it comes to people. You think he’s wrong?”

“I think I’ve known everyone here for a long time. I’m not saying Pete isn’t good at his job. I’m just saying I don’t believe anyone who works here would hurt me.”

He looks at the covered plates on the coffee table. “You know everyone who works here that well? Including the kitchen staff?”

“I do,” I admit, moving over to the table and removing one of the lids.

The food smells amazing, and it looks divine.

Roast beef in gravy, creamy mashed potatoes, and a side of roasted vegetables.

It’s the kind of dinner my mother always made on a Sunday when I was a kid.

I’ve been out of my mom’s house for close to nine years, and I’m pretty sure my last Sunday at my childhood home was the last time I ever ate a roast dinner.

I sit down on the couch and pick up a fork.

I can feel Owen’s gaze on me.

I half expect him to tell me not to eat it.

He doesn’t say a word.

So, I start to eat, trying a tiny bit of the meat with the potatoes.

Oh my God.

I forgot how incredible real, hot, filling food could taste.

I’ve spent so long trying to train myself to like soups and salads that this is like a slice of heaven.

I eat a little more and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips.

“That good is it?” Owen asks, sounding vaguely amused.

He kneels down at the side of the coffee table and lifts the lid on the second plate.

I pause eating to watch him.

He really doesn’t look like the kind to care too much about food.

But I can tell he’s impressed when he takes a bite of the meat.

“We have a couple of world class chefs here,” I reveal.

He takes a few more bites before he puts the fork down and covers the plate again.

“Nothing but the best for the elite,” he mutters.

He gets back to his feet, brushing off his jeans.

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