Page 2 of Such a Shy Omega

Actually, it would’ve been funny to see the look on his face. Just once.

“I think you’ve got the hang of the basics.” Grant came back in and I was well aware he was looking over my shoulder as I worked.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah. You’re doing great, Heath. Let’s move on.”

Grant sat down beside me but was careful not to touch me. Maybe because he was mated. Maybe because I was giving off no touch vibes. Either way, I was grateful.

We sat there for hours and I tried to absorb everything Grant said.

“I have an idea,” he said, slapping his thighs. “How about you go get some dinner and take a walk after all this sitting. Come back in an hour or two and you can be here when the club opens. Get some real action.”

I didn’t think I was ready for that but clearly Grant did. “Okay. I’ll go get something real to eat.”

Grant nodded. “Hey, do you have money for food? I remember my first job. Takes a couple of weeks to get a paycheck in the bank.”

“I’m good. I had savings,” I answered. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. You’re doing well, Heath. Go on. I’m gonna go home and see my omega.”

Chapter Two

Erik

My window overlooked the man-made lake in the middle of the office/industrial complex we’d created, my partners and I, from a startup nearly twenty years before. We had all been in college together and had begun our business as a class project that turned into…this.

Back then, an office like mine had been beyond a dream. It seemed like yesterday that we’d rented that little unit in an industrial park. One room, thirty by twenty in which we began building and marketing our device. Until recently, we had made exactly one thing and, up until this year, we’d never considered building anything anywhere but in the US.

“You ready for the meeting?” My PA poked his head in, his expression way less cheerful than usual. “They’re waiting for you.”

“I suppose.” Standing, I came around the desk. Once, the four of us had shared a desk and a workbench. “I’m not looking forward to this.”

“Pardon?” Jerry paused in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Just everything. “You know how I hate these endless meetings.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Want me to come in after a while and say you have an important call?”

“No. That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” Jerry was a great assistant, one of the other things none of us had when we first marketed the chip that funded everything.

I followed Jerry out into the hallway and left him by his desk. The building complex was vast, and we’d had the brilliant idea of having the executive offices located in each departmentthey related to, meaning, each time I met with any of my partners, I had to hike or take a tram. The conference room we were using today was quite a distance, and that did not help my mood. It should. Everything in the place was beautiful, top of the line, and the day we moved in, I’d felt like we’d arrived.

Who knew something so tiny could create such wealth? We had contracts with thousands of companies, forty-two state governments, countless cities, and many more. Computer security was critical to every operation, something that was just in its infancy when we developed what had, over the years, evolved into the chip we now sold. Each of us had a role in the company, and it had been incredible brainstorming with three of the smartest, most driven wolf shifters I’d ever met. Each of us had come from different packs, but it didn’t seem to matter. We’d navigated the human university system with ease, surprising considering we were all “homeschooled,” which in many packs—including all of ours—was not the best.

But maybe our unfamiliarity with so many things gave us a fresh view because to this day, nobody had managed to duplicate our system, or hack it. People passed me as I walked the open hallways under the high, glass roof. One of my partners had worked closely with the designer, using sketches he’d made when we were in the industrial park. We’d dreamed of being so big that we’d get an offer for our company too big to turn down, but so far that hadn’t happened. What we were considering was, in many ways, worse.

“We have to outsource. Or build our own factory somewhere more financially acceptable.” Doug had come up with the idea, Scott and Patel on the fence about it, and I was 100 percent against the whole thing.

“Why do wehave todo it?” I demanded, tired of this whole conversation. “Our whole idea was to build a company whereemployees would be treated well, paid as they deserve, and we would be able to live with ourselves.

“Well, we would be doing that. If we build a factory in one of the countries in the report I had prepared for all of you, we would pay the going rate wherever that was. Materials to build would be cheaper too.”

“Cheaper than what? We already have a factory here. You can see it across the green there.”

“It has to be upgraded soon, to accommodate the latest design. That makes it the perfect time to make this change.”

Patel and Scott watched us argue, heads swiveling like they were at a tennis match. Maybe pickleball—they both played that a lot from what I heard. They were talented designers and businessmen, but they would go along with whichever of us seemed to win the discussion. At least, they had in the past.

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