Page 51 of Waiting for Fate
“Do you have a moment, Miss Powell?”
I look up to find Shiloh standing a few feet before my desk. He’s in a soft cream sweater and dark jeans today instead of his usual tailored suit. It’s just as attractive, bringing a softness to his distant demeanor.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Acherley?”
His jaw ticks with my refusal to address him as Shiloh and I celebrate the small win. If he continues to call me Sabine, despite my requests to use Bea, I will call him Mr. Acherley. Fair is fair.
“I wanted to check in. See how you are faring with everything.” When my brows furrow, he continues. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise most everyone in the company has seen the broadcast of Omen’s confrontation with Pastor Montgomery.”
“Ah.” Do I really want to talk about this? No. I’m still raw from the events of the past week.
“Have you seen her?”
“I have,” I admit, swallowing thickly. “She’s recovering.”
“Please pass along our best wishes regarding her health.”
I nod, hoping he will leave, but he continues to stare at me. You know, I’m honestly tired of men who flip-flop their feelings toward me. Interested in every aspect of my life one day and wanting nothing to do with me the next. It’s cruel to torment an omega this way.
“Let me assure you, Mr. Acherley, my concern for Omen will not affect my ability to perform my duties as usual. If I need additional time off to help her recover, I will reach out to HR to procure them.”
It’s a dismissal, one Shiloh recognizes. The stubborn set of his jaw readies me for a fight, but he stands and pivots on his heel, walking away. My breath whooshes out of me as I collapse against the back of my chair. Tears line my eyes, burning as I fight to stop them from falling.
Why couldn’t Fate have given me an entire pack of mates like Ridley? Instead of four golden retrievers who are obsessed with me, I’m stuck with my alpha boss who seems to hate me, my best friend’s alpha bodyguard who rejects me every time we get close, and an alpha who admitted he felt the same connection but has essentially avoided me ever since.
Commitment phobic was not on my list of acceptable personality when I put out a plea for Fate matched mates.
Brady interrupts my brooding when he walks into the office. A stone mask slams down over my face, concealing all of my emotions. It fades when I realize Primordial Covenant is not with him. I’ve been expecting those assholes to show up demanding information about Omen since she was on TV. Apparently, it is going to take even longer for them to come to their senses.
“Look,” Brady says as he slides into his desk chair, spinning to face me. “I won’t say anything to those idiots, but I need to know how Omen’s doing.”
A faint smile stretches across my lips. Brady reminds me of Donovan. They’re both older, a little on the gruff side, and they care deeply about those around them. Brady has also given Pack Graves a lot of shit over the past month. I might have to send him a fruit basket as thanks for pitching in on their torture.
“She’s recovering. It… Well, it isn’t good. We almost lost her.”
He grunts his disapproval, his eyes filled with genuine concern. “If she needs anything, or you need me to cover events with Orbital Somatic, you let me know.”
Our conversation dwindles after that, and soon we’re both busy with meetings and paperwork. The rest of our day flies by in companionable silence.
As I’m getting ready to leave, I spot my missing cardigan on the floor beside my desk. It is wedged between the wood and the wall. How I missed it, I’m not sure. Digging the material out, I stuff it into my bag to take home. It definitely needs to be washed after sitting in the dust for almost three months.
Ridley is waiting for me at Jane’s desk. A big grin plastered to his handsome face. “Ready, sunshine?”
Thank Fates it is Friday! I cannot wait to spend the weekend wrapped in his arms and drowning in his scent! “So ready!”
We’re climbing in the car when his phone rings. I can tell he’s being pulled away for work by the tense purse of his lips. There goes my Friday night cuddle plans.
“Soon, sunshine, I won’t be your bodyguard. I will be your alpha. Bite on your throat and knot locked in your pussy, you’ll finally be mine.”
I shudder at the promise in his voice. I can’t wait!
“Do you want me to take you to the apartment? Or would you prefer to go to your parents?”
Glancing out at the traffic on the road ahead of us, I consider his words. My apartment is empty. Lonely without Omen or my alpha. If I go home, I will spend the evening crying in my nest and binging a tub of ice cream.
“My parents,” I finally answer. At least if I am at their house, I won’t have to sit in my emotions alone. Dad will watch sappy romances and eat junk food with me inside of a giant pillow fort.
No one should nurse a broken heart alone.
