Page 36 of Stolen Omega

He shrugs. “Don’t listen to anything this guy says. I don’t think he’s gonna last.”

Saturday guy scowls at him. He’s new, then. I didn’t think I’d seen him before. I guess I hadn’t.

He leads the way to the elevator without saying another word.

We travel to the basement level in silence.

At least he knows where he’s taking me.

We never get off on the ground floor, because that stops at the busy reception area, and despite how luxurious the hotel is, their security isn’t good enough to withstand the sudden pressure of a crowd from outside the building rushing in because someone caught a glimpse of me.

Every procedure has a precedent. This one has a few.

We get out on the basement level, and I lean against the wall to slip the heels on when I realize the polished wood floor is kind of cold. It takes less than a second to decide I’d rather have my toes squished into uncomfortable shoes than walk around on a cold floor.

It’s so much fun when my Omega sensitivities force me to choose one method of torture over another. I don’t know how this day could get any better.

We go to the staff elevator, and he takes a set of keys out of his pocket.

Saturday guy is nervous. He fumbles around with the keys for ages before he gets the elevator called to our floor. Then he almost drops them when the doors finally open.

I should give the guy a break. He’s new, and his nerves are making an ass out of him.

“So, have you been with the company long?” I ask as I step into the elevator.

He frowns at me. He’s shocked that I’m speaking to him, I think.

“Uh, like a year at this point,” he mutters, as he steps inside and hits the button for the ground floor.

The doors close, and I hold onto the railing on the right side of the elevator as we start to move.

“I don’t remember seeing you before,” I admit, wondering if they keep him on other details because he’s not good with people.

“You wouldn’t,” he tells me, not offering anything more.

“I wouldn’t remember it, or I wouldn’t have seen you before?”

I can’t seem to shut up now that I’ve started trying to engage him in conversation.

He lets out a barely audible sigh. “I’m usually on crowd control. I’m not used to speaking with clients.”

Well, that explains the attitude.

“You like dealing with the crowds?” I ask.

“It’s easier than this,” he admits.

The doors open and he steps out, checks the hall and motions for me to do the same. The corridor’s empty, and the business suite is a few feet away, across the hall.

“This wasn’t easy?” I ask as he leads me to the suite.

He gives me a wry smile. “I’m used to being firm with people who disrespect the rules. I’m not used to making sure a client gets to her appointments.”

“Well, maybe you’ll learn to like it,” I suggest, glad that he’s at least talking with me.

“Anything’s possible.”

He pulls open the door to the business suite and ushers me inside.

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