Page 37 of Dubious Match
“Basically, Emilia is a piece of shit human who doesn’t deserve orgasms?” I ask, sighing. “How the fuck is this allowed to go on?”
“You’re assuming that our police officers can do anything about her and that other people aren’t pulling strings to keep her in her position,” Malcolm reminds me. “There’s clearly something happening in this city.”
“The news is quiet about it too,” Brice mutters. “It feels like this huge conspiracy.”
“I mean maybe it is,” I say. “We’re cognizant of safety issues, our parking lot is well lit for our employees, and security guards escort anyone working late on projects to their vehicles.”
“We do what we can,” Remy mutters. “I want to know who takes bus transit at our office. I want to make sure none of them are working late during the winter months. It’ll be getting darker sooner, and it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I feel even worse now about how awful we were to Hollis,” I groan.
“We can’t change what we’ve done,” Malcolm says as he changes lanes. “First impressions are forever. We can show her that’s not who we are. We were reactionary. Has anyone else been dreading seeing their families lately?”
There are sighs and grunts throughout the vehicle that make Mal smirk.
“See, that’s what I thought,” he says. “I know that my mother is asking for grandchildren, and drops not-so-subtle hints when I call. We’re definitely the problem in this situation, boys.”
“God, I hate those,” I say. “So, how do we go about this? Aggressive or more subtle?”
“Is calling to see if she’s at work too much?” Brice adds. “I want to send her lunch.”
“I think that’s a nice gesture,” Mal agrees. “What if we continue to remind her that we’re here? Flowers, food, updates on where we are on gift bags?”
“Would it be too much to call a few radio stations and suggest that they call Hollis about the work she’s doing?” Remy asks quietly.
One of the reasons we’re so successful is because we all have different ideas and work together well. Each of us is capable of coming from different perspectives to figure out a task so it’s completed in the most efficient way.
Hollis is our new target. Sorry, babe.
“Let’s do all of that,” I decide. “Hollis is looking for positive exposure for the event, and being on the radio will help. Remy, how are we on the gift bags?”
“I need to know what she liked from what we gave her,” my brother murmurs. “I’ll give her a call on Monday about it. I have a lot of ideas about what I want to add to them, but want to get her feelings on it first.”
“Then, we have a plan,” Mal says, pulling into work. “Go motherfucking team go.”
Chuckling, I get out as soon as he’s parked, excited to get going on this. I’m going to ask one of our marketing people to come up with a nice banner for the event and email the concept to her.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that she doesn’t have an assistant. If she deals with sensitive information, consistently accesses the dark web, and has people dropping by that need her attention for mafia activities, then I doubt she would want someone else witnessing any of that.
However, I can help in my own way. I think acts of service lies somewhere in love languages, and it’s what makes the most sense to me. Since she has so many moving parts in her life, I’d like to take some things off her plate.
As we step into the office, my brow raises as everyone stops to watch us come inside. Holding back a sigh, I count to five.
“Who needs me?” I call out.
My pack behind me does the same, and we scatter to answer questions. Fridays can be rough since everyone wants to tie up loose ends before the weekend. It looks like it’ll be a late day if I want to finish my things and get started on ideas for Hollis.
Oh well, it’s an excuse to pick up takeout on the way home.
HOLLIS
It’s been exactly a week since the onset of my migraine, and my brain is on overdrive as I try to catch up on things. The migraine lasted a long three days, and then I just felt hungover through the weekend and sluggish.
Not to mention, the odd things that have been happening. Pack Ledger has been very attentive without ever coming by. They ordered me lunch today, Felix emailed with a proposal to help me with the banners and signs for the Forever Yours event, which is the official name for it, and I just ended a call with a radio station that asked if I would come talk about the mixer.
This is a very odd Monday.
I have a feeling the alphas may have had something to do with the radio station calling me. I can’t prove it, but my gut feelings never steer me wrong. It was simply very out of the blue.
