Page 12 of Waiting for Fate
Is it awful we are springing this on her at the last minute and taking away her chance to decline the surprise? Maybe. Am I going to regret being complicit in the situation later? Absolutely not.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Omen’s brows furrow. She wasn’t expecting my other parents to be here too. The moment she sees the sleek silver bus, it clicks. Insecurity floods her eyes, but she doesn’t voice her discomfort. Not until we’re inside and she sees the dual mini nests at the back, emblazoned with both our names.
My parents shut her down immediately, promising this is for her benefit and is non-negotiable. Omen’s shoulders sink in defeat, so I make jokes to ease some of the tension. It’s all fun until my parents remind me our new bodyguards will join us soon. At least they can drive this thing, otherwise Omen and I would head straight to disaster city.
“We’ll grab your stuff and load it on the bus,” Pops says as they usher us outside. “We’ve already discussed the bus with the executives at Soulbound, but you will need to check in with the rest of the staff.”
Thank goodness for their forethought, because I definitely do not want to start my day by justifying my space to Shiloh. That man would probably look like he was sucking on lemons as he listened to me explain an omega’s need for dark, compact spaces and privacy. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing when I imagine it.
We find Brady in the middle of the lot, directing road crew and band members alike. Shiloh quickly appears, looking out of place among the jean clad employees. Tall with a subtle bulk hinting at the muscles hidden beneath his sleek gray suit. The tailored material adds to the arrogant billionaire vibe he exudes with each breath. Silver streaks his short black hair, and rich umber eyes cut across the parking lot, taking in each employee and assuring they are on task. He quickly checks his watch when he sees me, noting the time I arrive with thinned lips.
Someone is in a wonderful mood, it seems.
“Sabine, you’re with me.”
Fighting back a glare, I glance back at Omen and channel all of my annoyance into an eye roll. Questions spark in her expression, but I don’t have time to answer them. Leaving her to speak with Brady, I hurry after my boss.
Why does my stupid body have to leak perfume every time I see him? He’s an asshole who obviously enjoys tormenting me. I am absolutely not attracted to him. It must be post heat hormones.
Yeah, that’s totally why.
Straightening my soft pink blazer, I square my shoulders and fall into step beside him. I can see the band I’m assistant managing during the tour—Orbital Somatic—lingering outside of their bus ahead of us. They’re new to the label, but have a decent following. This tour with Primordial Covenant will help build their fame further, if we play their cards right.
Which is why I’m here: to ensure they kick ass for the next two months.
“Good morning,” Shiloh greets them. His voice is commanding and smooth, the sound of it making the fine hair on my arms stand up. Jesus, Bea, get a damn grip.
Shaking myself back into professional mode, I cross my arms and meet each band member’s eyes. I may be an omega, but I know exactly how to level a look that will make every one of these alphas squirm.
After fifteen minutes of wrestling control from Shiloh, I finally finish the pre-tour checklist. The bands are all set, and the roadies have double checked everyone’s equipment. As soon as they load the buses, and Shiloh gives us the all-clear, we will be on the road and headed to our first destination.
When Shiloh waves me off, I slip back to my bus to check in with my parents. As I approach the sleek silver gift, my lips purse. The bodyguard duo stands outside with my dads. The last thing I want is to be crammed into a small space with two overbearing alphaholes. As long as they don’t get in my way, we should be fine.
“Okay, bumblebee! You’re all set!” Dad wraps his arms around me, squeezing the air from my lungs in a tight hug. Sadness tinges his buttery popcorn scent. I don’t envy my other parents having to console him on the drive home.
“I’m only a video call away,” I remind him, hugging him tighter.
My mom’s light linen scent joins us, her arms wrapping around both our shoulders. We stand like that for several seconds before my dad sniffles and pulls back. While Mom rubs his back, I give my alpha fathers hugs of their own. They’ll keep dad distracted while I’m away, and I’ll check in often. I’ve never gone more than a few days without talking to one of them, and I don’t intend to start now.
Watching my parents drive out of the label parking lot, I soak in the joy thrumming through my veins. This is a journey I’ve been unknowingly working toward since I was a child. Music has always been something I’m passionate about, so knowing I’m working for the label of my dreams and heading on tour to learn to manage an up-and-coming band is thrilling.
This is the shit dreams are made of. Music, best friends, and hot musician dick.
“Ready to go, sunshine?” Ridley calls out.
My heart races even as I force a frown onto my face. Damn him for looking like a literal Greek god and having a golden retriever personality. I have a weakness for utterly devoted men with ripped shoulders and biceps. “As soon as we get approval from the label, yes.”
His smile widens, reaching his jewel toned blue-green eyes. It is utterly ridiculous the way his eyes literally sparkle as he steps closer to me. My eyes fly over every imposing inch of him. From his short, wavy brown hair to his plush lips, stretched into a cocky smile. His black t-shirt stretches across his chiseled chest and abdomen, revealing a hint of the v leading beneath his cargo pants.
Shit, I need to stop ogling him.
Calm and collected sounds like a great mantra until he winks. This asshole. Sure, there is a slight pull between us. Some visible attraction neither of us can deny on a physical level. If this stunning man thinks he’s going to swoon his way into my nest during our tour, he’s out of his mind.
I’m here to work, not to find a pack.
Not that I’m opposed to finding a pack. I’m really not. I’ve dreamed of having a pack like my parents. Someone so utterly devoted to your existence, they literally breathe for you. I don’t know if Forever Smiling and his sidekick, Sir Grumpster, can be part of that.
“Do you have a problem with me, Mr. Ferguson?” I ask, channeling my inner bitchiness. Lex Ferguson is just as attractive. Slightly shorter than his exuberant partner, Lex’s dark blonde hair falls in soft curls against the top of his forehead. Matching stubble neatly lines his jaw and upper lip, giving him an air of deviance that calls to my inner omega. Why are bad boys always fucking irresistible?!
