Page 2 of No Strings Attached
The silence doesn’t last, though, a knock on my front door echoing through my little cabin. Seconds later, the door swings open. I knew I’d regret giving Tristan a key to my place one day. Originally, I had thought it would make things easier for shoots, for quick check-ins. Instead, it hands Tristan unfettered access to my space, my life, mysoul.
At least he rarely barges into the kitchen, but the sudden smell of fresh coffee beans and sugar tells me that he’s not just popping in for a friendly visit. He’s here because he needs me.Well, fuck.I sigh again and push off the bed before heading into the kitchen. The damn Alpha is leaning against my counter, his arms folded across his chest as a grin spreads across his face.
Beside him sits a bag from the bakery up the street, one I’ve actually never entered. “Good morning, money maker," Tristan muses. "We've got work to do. Lots, actually. And I have you auditioning–well,doinga commercial this evening, just before a gala you'll need to attend."
I frown, my brows pulling together. "What?" I’m not usually invited to formal events, nor do I volunteer to go to them.
"You can eat on the way, but we've got a full schedule," he continues. "We've got to film the rock climbing stunt, and then there's a meeting for a collaboration with Nander."
"I told you I didn't want to do that," I push back. Nander is a fucking idiot, and he constantly throws jabs at me for my height, my scent, and anything else he can get away with before Tristan tells us to behave. He never gets in trouble, though, and I’m over it.
Tristan grins wider. "Well, it's a good thing you don't make the rules around here."
I glance down at myself, still in just pants after the shower. "I just need to go put on a shirt."
"You really don't," Tristan hums, his eyes heating up before he fixes his expression. "Shoes and let's go."
I open my mouth to push back, but then he steps closer, his face twisting into a snarl. "Remember your place, Omega. I made you. You will follow the rules like a good Omega, or I can ruin you just as fast as I built you. Now, let's go."
I clamp my mouth shut, the argument dying in my throat. Arguing won't help. It never does. I turn, grab my shoes fromthe hall, and slip them on. Four years ago, I signed on with him because the adventures were fun, and it was something I enjoyed doing. Now, it's nonstop hell, schedules crammed so tight I can't breathe. I already know that if I keep pushing myself at this pace, my body will give out.
Olivia
I pace the hardwood floor of our office, my heels clicking with every step, my cellphone pressed against my ear. Mr. Hart’s voice drones on, throwing out new deadlines and changes like we didn’t sign a contract weeks ago.
His PR company has been a nightmare from day one causing nonstop issues and pushing me and my husband to the brink of our sanity. I can’t even remember how many meetings we’ve had just in the last week. My free hand clenches, my nails biting into my palm as I try to keep my voice steady. “Mr. Hart, we’ve been over this. The terms were clear when you signed. Changing them now isn’t how we work.”
I feel Jamie’s eyes on me from the desk, where he’s hunched over papers. There’s no judgement in his gaze but it makes my skin prickle as my agitation climbs. I want to scream and then hang up before disappearing from this whole entertainment circus. But this account’s too big to ditch without a fight, and losing it could dent Dane Productions hard.
Fucking hell. Does he ever shut up?
Hart’s voice rises, cutting through my thoughts, and I stop pacing, planting a hand on my hip. “No, raising your voice doesn’t change the facts,” I snap back at him, my patience thinning. Great. And now he’s yelling. If I had any energy left, I would yell right back at him and then tell him we could speak once I get back to our office. Instead, I just let him drone on.
A sigh breaks the air, my husband’s shoulders falling as I twist around to truly look at him. The concern in his eyes grows, a worried frown settling on his lips. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach. He’s the perfect mix of regal and goofy, wild blond hair and expressive hazel eyes that always seem to find me in a room. Added with the adorable smile and the soft edges that don’t scream ‘Alpha’ and I’m not sure I’ve ever loved someone else more than the man who stares at me like I’m his goddess.
When Mr. Hart’s voice reaches a deafening level and I flinch, Jamie doesn’t hesitate. He pushes to his feet and crosses the room in a few long strides, his citrus scent hitting me just as his arms pull me into his chest. I stiffen for a second and then melt against him, burying my face in his shirt.
“Mr. Hart,” I say, finally able to get a word in, “I don’t think this is constructive. Yelling at me or my husband is uncalled for, especially when you’re trying to change a contractyousigned. Let’s meet on Monday to discuss the changes you need. Only then will we update the contract. If we can’t come to an agreement, it might be best to go our separate ways.”
I hang up before he can respond, the phone slipping from my hand to the stand beside me. My shoulders sag as I lean harder into Jamie, letting his strength hold me up. Losing this company will sting but what he’s demanding would ruin everything we’ve built. Our indie films, our reputation, all the late nights and sacrifices. I can’t let that happen.
Jamie’s lips brush my forehead, soft kisses landing one after another. “Why don’t you go lie down?” he murmurs, his voice warm against my skin. “I’ll grab those donuts you like.” My stomach does a couple of flips at the thought of that delicious golden dough he likes to make.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a tired smile tugging at my lips. “You made the cinnamon twists? When? We’ve been so fucking busy.”
He grins, his long blond hair falling into his face as he tucks a strand of my dark waves behind my ear. “I’m never too busy to make my wife smile. Now go get ready for me, okay?” This time, he kisses me on the lips, a soft, sweet embrace before he pushes me toward the door.
I don’t have to be told twice as I scurry down the hallway and burst into our bedroom, a mass pile of pillows and blankets strewn across the mattress on the floor. It spans the length of the bedroom, something remnant of an Omega’s nest, a soft space that I can call my own, deep reds and black lining every last inch of this room.
I chuck off my heels before peeling off my blazer and skirt, haphazardly chucking my bra into the corner with everything else. For the first time this morning, it feels like I can breathe as I shimmy into a camisole and a pair of Jamie’s boxers that smell like him. The cotton hugs my skin, the warmth of my husband and mate’s scent wrapping around me, settling me further.
This room is the one that no one but Jamie has ever entered. It’s a secret that could tank Dane Productions if it got out. No one would ever take me seriously. Out there, I’m the boss, all sharp edges and control. In here, I get to be cuddled and cared for. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I grew up around Omegas and adopted the things that they love and cherish.
Or maybe it’s just because I’ve always been told I have to be that fierce, dominant, and driving force and Jamie told me I didn’t have to be.
Slowly, I make my way into the middle, propping up the pillows as I go until I’m fully snuggled into the cushions. Sleep tugs at me, even so early in the morning. We’ve been up since three, working through contracts and accounts, trying to ensure that this next project goes off without a hitch. We’ve got a full evening ahead of us and then tomorrow will be jam packed with another round of meetings as well.
For now, though, I let myself settle, the weight of this morning falling away.
