Page 21 of Laurels and Liquor

“That’s exactly why I’m sure. We’ve nearly lost each other too many times, and I don’t want it to happen again. I love you, Rhett Cooper. I love you, Mateo Hutchenson. I love Pack Saint Clair, and I’m ready to be yours, completely yours,” Lydia says emphatically, and I can hear the tears at the edges of her words. But she holds them back, and my heart swells with affection. My strong, beautiful, kind omega. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like her, but I’ll never cease to be grateful.

So I swallow and nod, even if she can’t see me. If she’s ready, then I have to find a way to be ready, too. There has to be a solution out there, and I have nothing but time to try to find it.

I will be home for her, no matter what it takes.

Chapter eleven

Alexandra

TothePrimeAlphaof Pack Saint Clair:

We have previously requested you provide any documentation to support your claim to the unbonded omega, Lydia Anderson. We have given you ample opportunity to prove your claim, but to date, we have received no response. In accordance with the relevant laws and statutes, this letter is our third and final attempt to reach you to clarify the claims you and your pack have made.

If you are unable to present proper documentation by end of business on the date stated above, I will be advising my client, Samuel Anderson Sr., Prime Alpha of the Chauvert Anderson Pack, to proceed with legal action to reclaim the unbonded omega. Once this process has begun, any attempts to interfere will be treated as an infringement on my client’s Prime Alpha rights, and will be dealt with accordingly.

It's been a few days since Rhett was released on bail, and I’m staring at the latest intimidation attempt sent to my office by Samuel Anderson Sr. This is the second one to show up at my office this week and, while I know he’s only sending these letters because he’s legally obligated to do so, I can’t say I’m not grateful for the time it’s given us to try to work something out. He has to show a “good faith” attempt to confirm our claim before he can move forward with what is essentially legal kidnapping. It doesn’t escape my notice that his lawyer only used Lydia’s name once, otherwise referring to her like she’s some sort of livestock we’re haggling over.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I slide the letter to the side, hiding it away for the moment. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be fine. I’ve had to put a lot on Ted Calhoun these last few months, and he’s doing the best he can. But I made the call to pivot focus. We have to find a judge that’ll squeeze us in for a pack status hearing. Based on my past experience, the whole process shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. There were some standard questions to establish that the petitioner, in this case Lydia, isn’t being coerced into joining the pack, and then there’s a basic loyalty oath that I, as the prime alpha, have Lydia swear. For our original hearing, I’d prepared something emotional and meaningful, but at this juncture, when time would be of the essence, I’d have to settle for the bare minimum. A few signatures later, and I’d have a new pack member. But as with all things involving the legal system, it’s not official if there isn’t a small army present to witness, which has been the holdup. We need a bailiff, an Omega Rights Advocate, a court stenographer, and a few other stars to align, and we’d burned a lot of favors to make it happen the first time only to blow everyone off. But I’d entrusted Ted with several stacks of extra persuasion power, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not when there’s so much on the line.

Right on time, the intercom on my desk buzzes.

“Ms. St. Clair, your two o’clock is here,” Erica chirps, tone light enough that a stranger might mistake it for friendliness. But there’s a hint of cool Southern ice there that I picked up on after knowing her for so long.

“Thank you. Send him in,” I reply, keeping my voice free of inflections.

Moments later, I look up at the sound of my office door opening, and only years of practice keep any sign of open contempt from my expression as I watch Leopold St. Clair stride into my office. He’s a man who’s paid to age gracefully, and it shows. His skin is tight across his face, complexion too even to be natural. His hazel eyes, the exact color and shape as my own, scan the room, searching for something out of place, I’m sure. As he gets closer, I can see the slight sheen of sweat across his brow, but he refuses to remove or even unbutton his expensive wool-blend suit jacket. October in Baltimore is cool, if not outright chilly, but Georgia is still clinging to its pleasantly balmy late summer temperatures. The petty part of me wants to crow and needle him about making such a mistake, for not doing the proper preparation and showing weakness, but I swallow my pride. Though I’m sure if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Swanky digs ya got here, Lexi,” a new, but uncomfortably familiar, voice snarks from near the doorway, drawing my attention away.

An angry flush rises to my cheeks as I see who’s entered my office in my father’s wake. I haven’t seen Delano Argentieri, Hunter Navarro, and my cousin, Gideon St. Clair, since I graduated from Brown. They’d been personally offended by the lack of “fun” at the luncheon and called in a bunch of their friends to crash. My father, of course, blamed me, and even after I’d begged them to own up, the Trio of Trouble just laughed. Now, they’ve wandered into my office like they own it, letting the door close with a harsh slam before they disperse.

“What are they doing here?” I snap at Leo, not even bothering with a greeting.

“Manners, Alexandra,” Leopold retorts, deep voice icy cold.

“This is my office, and you said this was to be a private meeting,” I say firmly, not backing down.

I get to my feet, but don’t round the desk. My eyes flicker between Gideon, who’s making himself at home in my bar cart, Hunter, who is running a finger along the spines of the books on my shelves, and Delano, who has thrown himself onto my white leather sofa, shoes and all. My jaw hurts from clenching it already, and we haven’t even been in the same room for three minutes.

Gideon hasn’t changed very much in his appearance, and as always, it’s like looking into some sort of gender-bending mirror. He’s taller than me, but our hair and eyes are the exact same color. We’d always been confused as siblings growing up, and I can’t say that I’m upset that we’ve lost touch over the years. From what I’ve been told, he’s positioned himself to be next in line to run St. Clair Holdings once my father passes, and I formally renounce whatever title he’s going to inevitably try to pass down to me. Though if half the rumors I’ve heard about the things he and his pseudo-pack get up to, I’m surprised Leopold still acknowledges him at all.

He crosses to Delano on the couch, extending a glass of bourbon, but Delano takes the decanter Gideon has in his other hand and drinks from it directly. He tosses a few strands of his blood-red hair out of his face—a change from the highlighter yellow I’d seen in a recent mugshot—as he turns to look at me. I’d thought his light gray, almost silver eyes were contacts the first time I met him, considering how much of his appearance is for show. But no, it’s the color he’s had since the day he crawled out from Hades to curse my life.

“Glad to see your taste in booze is as good as it ever was,” Delano says with a smirk, even going as far as to wink at me.

Mateo is going to lose his shit when I tell him someone is drinking his bourbon.

I don’t deign to respond to the teasing, and turn my attention back to my father, giving him a pointed look as I stay silent and wait for an explanation.

“They are assisting me with your request,” he says simply, sauntering toward me, hands in his pockets.

One step ahead of him, I sit back down in my executive chair. Like hell would I surrender the seat of power in my own fucking office. And least of all to my father. His lips thin ever so slightly and he stops, turning instead to look out over the Everton skyline, like that was his destination all along.

“How could they possibly—”

“You need a cadaver, an accident, and hard to come by pharmaceuticals, and they can get them,” Leo says, almost sounding bored.

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