Page 1 of Waiting for Fate
CHAPTER ONE
I LOVE Agood dicking, but sometimes I really fucking hate men.
I’m scowling down at my phone, wondering why Mateability—an app omegas used to find heat helpers—has to be full of obnoxious assholes. If I have to suffer through one more conversation with a frat boy who thinks he’s a god simply for having a knot, I will lose my shit.
Can’t I find a semi-decent group to help me through a suppressed heat without the complication of a shitty attitude? A girl needs to eat and shower, not just be knotted for several days.
Closing the app, I let my head thump against the wall behind my chair. While finding help for my impending heat is a priority, I should focus on today's meeting with a Soulbound Echo Studios music label executive manager. Last summer, I earned a paid internship in their production department. After my break ended, they approved me picking up occasional shifts on weekends or school breaks, extending my internship to a yearlong contract instead of the initially planned three months.
Soulbound Echoes is one of the top music labels in the country. Founded a hundred and fifty years ago, they’ve shaped the music world ever since. After the appearance of designations, they created an East Coast label in New York. They have contracts with musicians across multiple genres, giving them a hefty backlog of legends beneath their belt.
Working in the music industry has been my dream for years. My alpha dad, Phoenix, passed along his love of rock and metal music, but it wasn’t until I discovered the all-female band Candy Courage that my obsession had taken root. I would pass away from joy if I could manage them, but that dream is leagues out of my reach. Mostly because their beta mate, Holly, manages the band, but an omega can dream.
I’m hopeful today’s meeting will be an offer to work full time within the company. Preferably in the managerial department, but I’d still take a role in production if it meant I could eventually get promoted to manager.
Nervous excitement fills my stomach with butterflies as one of the office doors opens down the hall. A small waiting room sits at the front of the third floor, with the manager’s secretary taking calls and directing incoming foot traffic.
Sitting up straighter, I carefully straighten my lavender pantsuit to smooth out any creases that appeared while waiting. The matching blazer hangs off my shoulders and hides the excess of exposed skin the spaghetti strap shoulders create. It’s comfortable yet professional and still has the pop of color I adore.
Minutes pass before someone struts down the hall toward me. My mouth dries as I take him in. He’s well over six feet, with dark, prominent brows and ashy black hair fading to gray at his temples. The charcoal button-up stretched across his chest, highlighting his fit body without being unprofessional. Rolled-up sleeves showcase his toned forearms. I do not know who this absolute blessing of a man is, but I want to lick him.
“Sabine?”
The train of depraved desire coursing through me jerks to a halt as my full name passes through his lips. I fucking hate being called Sabine. The only person who gets away with it is my mother, and even she usually sticks to Bea.
“That’s me, though I would prefer if you’d call me Bea,” I answer as I stand up, a polite smile plastered on my face.
“Shiloh Acherley.” He turns on his heel and returns to his office. If I thought he looked great from the front, the view from the back is drool-worthy. This man has an ass that would make women everywhere jealous. “With me, Miss Powell.”
I hurry to keep pace with him, fighting the urge to peek into every room. I’ve never been on this level of the label before. Usually, I work on the second floor, where the studios and production offices are located. When we reach the last door on the right, he swings it open and gestures for me to step inside.
As I slip by his tall figure, I catch the sweetest hint of amber and white sand. He smells like a warm summer day at the beach. My knees shake as I take the seat across from his desk. Fates dammit, working here is going to be hell on my hormones, isn’t it?
Going over my role in the internship is quick and effortless. He has a stack of papers summarizing all the feedback from my coworkers, supervisors, and professors, though he doesn’t seem impressed.
The lack of reaction from Mr. Acherley frustrates me for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on.
Sometimes being an omega is weird as fuck, but you have to learn to roll with it.
“Given your dedication to the label and the positive feedback from the rest of our staff, we would like to extend you an offer to transition to a full-time position. Your interest is in managing bands, correct?”
Rich, coffee-colored eyes meet mine, startling in their depth as he stares at me. His intense stare holds me captive, and I struggle to breathe. It’s only seconds, but it feels like a lifetime before I can force a response through my frozen lips.
“Correct. I earned a degree in music business with that goal in mind.”
Shiloh nods, glancing down at the papers on his desk before refocusing on me. “If you accept our offer, your transition to the team of band managers will begin next Monday. After discussing your resume with the rest of the executives and our seasoned band managers, you will dive headfirst into this role. You’ll shadow your mentor, Brady Moore, during his band’s tour. You will manage the opening band assigned to the tour, Orbital Somatic.”
Shock has my mouth hanging open. They are offering me a manager-in-training position and assigning me to manage a band while they are on tour? I feel like I should pinch myself in case I’m dreaming, but I don’t think my subconscious could conjure the alpha sitting across from me in such intricate detail.
“Here is the proposed contract. You’ll note there are exclusions built into the parameters of your personal and vacation days to allow for heat leave.” He passes me a stack of papers.
Soulbound offers a base income rate for all of their staff to help negate the need to seek outside work to survive, but band managers earn a separate commission based on the success of their bands. As an assistant band manager working with Orbital Somatic, I will earn the base rate plus a five percent commission for all of their sales over the next year. It’s a very fair contract. One many less progressive labels would never consider.
Once I’ve scanned the entire document, Shiloh walks me through where to sign. There are other forms to fill out, which take us half an hour to go over. I don’t mind, not when I’m practically cocooned in his warm scent. I feel safe here with him. Part of me thinks I should wonder why I feel drawn to the older alpha, but I don’t want to start my dream career lusting after my boss, so I brush those thoughts aside.
Being attracted to him is fine. What cannot happen is me letting my instincts take the reins and make myself appear unprofessional.
After completing the paperwork, he tells me he will set up a meeting next Monday for me to meet my new mentor and the band I will work with. Shiloh is straightforward, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone that does little to stop the growing desire inside of me.
