Page 64 of Citius

“Thank you,” I murmured.

It only took ten steps to catch up with Cal—ten, too brief steps. As if he would ever leave me behind.

I glanced up, meeting his stormy gaze.

“Were you about to maim him?” Cal asked.

“Yes,” I said with bloodthirsty emphasis.

The twisted, violent part of me regretted that it hadn’t come to blows. Garvey deserved whatever I managed to dish out, and it would’ve made the resolution far more satisfying. He’d violated my rights as an omega in multiple ways. Fireable offenses all around.

Not that the university would take that option. For all his faults, the man had a solid coaching resume.

While I was grateful for Cal’s intervention, a small portion of me resented Cal for charging in on his shining white steed of dominance. I could’ve handled Garvey on my own—diplomatically, of course.

A faint smile dug into Cal’s stern expression. As he held the connecting door to the lobby of Designation Sciences, the gallant fool winked at me.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered.

I charged past him, doubling my pace as I headed for Talia and the others congregating near the door.

Forget being thankful. I was back to being pissed.

***

“Look, where I come from, you tell the truth,” Redwing’s head of finance said, his folksy charm softening the bite of his words. “And purring your way back to health?”

He smiled, almost apologetically, as he held up his hands.

“That sounds like a scam. An expensive one at that. I don’t see how we could confidently invest company funds in something so questionable.”

Every time the man spoke, it became painfully clear why Owen had been steamrolled. His raw, unrefined dominance had nothing on this guy’s buckets of charisma.

That’s where I came in.

“On page sixty-seven,” I said, navigating to the corresponding slide on my laptop, “you’ll find a chart tracking sales data for vibration therapy units over the past decade. As you can see, profits have consistently increased year after year. Our proposal is simple—why let your competition profit from dubious products when Redwing has the technology and resources to dominate the market with proven science?”

“And,” Owen interjected, sitting to my left, eyes as flinty as his gunmetal tie, “my team has prepared supplementary materials in the presentation index—development timelines and prototype schematics. We’re confident about this product.”

The head of finance shook his head. “Seems like an awfully—”

The door opened, and a tall woman in her mid-sixties strode in, flanked by assistants. She wore oversized red glasses, contrasting her slicked-back, unnaturally white hair. Her outfit was also white—cropped dress pants, trendy slides, and the slouchiest sweater I’d ever seen. A collection of mixed gemstone necklaces clicked softly as she moved, the longest adorned with an unusual ammonite fossil pendant embellished with garnets that gleamed like blood drops.

At first glance, Tabitha Redmond looked more like an affluent retiree heading to a pottery seminar than abioengineering genius and elite businesswoman. But I knew better. If Owen was steel, his aunt was forged of titanium—and if she ever crossed paths with Jacobi, he’d collapse into a submissive puddle at her feet.

After settling into her seat, Tabitha curled an imperious finger, compelling Owen to lean over. He brought her up to speed using the minimum number of words. From my right, Cal offered the occasional bit of context.

“I see.” Tabitha’s frosty gaze—a Redmond trademark, I was learning—fixed on the head of finance. “The way you discourage profitable innovation, I’m starting to think you don’t want me to retire.”

He began explaining his reservations, but Tabitha wasn’t listening. One assistant placed a copy of the presentation binder in front of her, already opened to the correct page, with key points meticulously highlighted and flagged. Another put down a glass of water with two slices of lemon.

A heavy silence descended over the room as Tabitha reviewed the materials. Every eye turned toward her, drawn in by her dominance—as subtle as a black hole.

I managed to catch Owen’s gaze. He held up a finger, asking me to give her a minute to catch up. A silent reassurance that this was, in fact, normal.

“Continue,” Tabitha said, flicking her hand with casual indifference, inadvertently revealing a massive, multi-colored gemstone puzzle of a ring. If it was a mating ring, it made quite the statement. Maybe even multiple statements.

A petite woman from Redwing’s legal team leaned forward, her expression tinged with muted excitement as she turned to me. “Wouldyou mind explaining how it works one more time?”

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