Page 47 of Heat Me

Mr. Ragu was in the room with only one beta employee flipping through a stack of documents spread out on the table. Mr. Ragu stood nearby, nervously wringing his hands. The atmosphere was thick with stress.

Only then did I recognize the beta—it was Jordan, Mr. Ragu’s lawyer, who handled contract reviews for the company. We never got along. He was a skinny guy in his mid-30s, and he gave me a sour look, clearly remembering our less-than-friendly past.

I smirked slightly. "Oh, hi there, Jordan. Nice to see you again. And good afternoon, Mr. Ragu—I came as requested."

Mr. Ragu, too preoccupied to notice my thinly veiled disdain for Jordan, immediately hurried over to shake my hand.

"Thank you, Storm. You’re saving my life here. I’ve been informed that Mr. Lowen is only running five minutes late, so he’ll be here in about fifteen minutes."

I frowned. "Why are the guards standing outside your office instead of securing the area? The parking lot is full of cars—have they all been checked? What’s going on? Do you even have a plan?"

Mr. Ragu waved his hands nervously, trying to explain, but Jordan interjected, his tone sharp.

"Those idiots have been here for just a month. They’re complete rookies and don’t know what they’re doing. They need to be whipped into shape, or we’ll lose this contract. The other security team that backed out at the last minute was supposed to cover the open area, leaving our team to handle the inside. That’s why it’s a mess. Nobody is doing what he’s supposed to."

I muttered a quiet curse. "I’ll deal with it if I have time, but my priority is getting Damien to a designated room. I don’t want him hanging around near those guards." I gestured subtly toward Damien, who was quietly observing the conversation.

Mr. Ragu glanced at Damien, his nostrils flaring slightly—he was an omega himself, so it was unlikely he would react at all, except with a sour grimace. For most omegas, the smell of another person’s heat was rather unpleasant and pungent. But he held his face still.

"Yes, yes, let’s take care of that quickly. Jordan, you’ll escort them, won’t you?"

Jordan grimaced, obviously annoyed. He wasn’t a PA but a senior attorney for the company.

"Where’s Robert?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn’t this supposed to be his job?"

"He suddenly called in sick and didn’t show up today," Mr. Ragu replied, exasperated.

I cursed under my breath again. Everything about this situation felt off. Mr. Ragu was here with only Jordan and three basically unknown guards. Even Robert, his usual right-hand man, was absent.

"Fine," Jordan grumbled, placing the stack of documents back on the table. "Let’s get this over with."

"I’d prefer the room to be close to where the meeting is happening," I said firmly.

"Of course. The conference room is one floor down. There are also two adjacent lounge rooms right next to it. I think itwould be best to put him there. That way, you can move quickly if needed," Mr. Ragu said, gesturing for Jordan to grab a set of keycards from a cabinet.

"Let’s go, then," I said.

We all headed toward the door, leaving Mr. Ragu in the office. When we stepped outside, the guards were gone. Interesting. The chaos surrounding this situation made my unease grow even stronger.

"I’d like the keycard for Damien’s room to stay with me," I told Jordan as we rode the elevator down a floor.

Jordan nodded curtly.

The hallway was dimly lit, with pale lights overhead. Through large glass doors, I spotted a spacious conference room that took up most of the floor. But Jordan led us farther down the corridor to a quieter area with two additional doors.

"These aren’t really hotel rooms," Jordan explained. "They’re more like break rooms for guests attending long conferences. People can leave their belongings here, and sometimes we set up a buffet during longer meetings."

We stopped at one of the doors. "There’s a pull-out sofa inside," Jordan added, clearing his throat awkwardly, "and the cabinet has… supplies. You know, just in case."

Neither Damien nor I acknowledged the not-so-subtle suggestion. We all knew what he meant.

Jordan unlocked the door. The room was small but functional, with a stack of bottled water and packs of salty snacks in one corner. A decent-sized sofa, which could be unfolded, took up the opposite wall. There was also a desk and two chairs.

I turned to Damien. "Stay here. I’ll keep the keycard, and no one will bother you. I’ll be just outside the conference room for as long as I need to be, and I’ll come right back afterward."

Damien blinked, then murmured so quietly that only I could hear, "The wave hasn’t started yet…"

"Doesn’t matter. We don’t know how soon it might happen. Just call me if anything comes up."

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