Page 38 of Knotty New Year

She might not want to be mated to me now, but I had a feeling I could change her mind. I’d apologized with orgasms once before, and I could do it again. I’d start with her on her back, her legs wrapped tighter than a scarf around my neck…

I was distracted from my daydream when my phone pinged. It was a picture from Lin, who’d purchased what looked like matching polar bear outfits, all lying on a bed. I counted the ears, and realized there were at least a dozen of the ridiculous onesies, in all sizes.

Lin: LOOK.

What the hell are those for?

Her reply was short and ominous.

Lin: Family New Year’s photo shoot!

Her following texts proved that Luke had already shared my instructions. Lindyann was ridiculously excited to help welcome Candy to the family, but she also sent a warning text.

Lin: Omegas need to be shown how much they’re loved. Step up your game. Get your ass here.

Resolute, I made a dozen calls trying to stave off a stock crash for my company and tamp down the media feeding frenzy about the “omega abduction ring” I was apparently heading up, while simultaneously making sure the doctors and pharmacies of any affected omegas would be notified immediately and discreetly about the mislabeling. Then I sent at least seventy-five texts lining everything up so I wouldn’t be needed at work for a few days.

Finally, I headed for the door. It was time to meet with the board, and get the results of our internal investigations.

* * *

Hours later, I stalked out of the boardroom, anger warring with impatience. The mislabeling had been human error, an accident on the part of a new employee who had mistakenly thought his job was one he could do while simultaneously playing a video game on his watch.

His manager had also mistakenly believed there was no way anyone making base-level pay could screw things up too badly.

They’d both been wrong, and were now fired, with NDAs in place to make sure they stayed quiet until we decided how to share the results of our investigation publicly, now that we knew what had happened.

What should have been a one-hour discussion on how to own up to our issues with internal oversight, had turned into a five-hour hand-wringing session. I’d almost cursed out the entire board, and ended the day by walking out of the meeting.

God, I needed to fall asleep next to Candy. And wake up next to her.

My phone buzzed as I strode toward the front door of Paxson Pharma’s main office, and I saw my PA’s name. Perfect timing. “Theodore, make sure the Gulfstream’s ready and waiting. I’ve got to get to Telluride tonight.” I nodded to the doorman, who used his key card to open the large glass door.

“Your plane is taking you to Dallas, sir,” Theodore replied. “And it’s morning already.”

I stopped walking. “You’re fired.” The doorman sputtered. “No, not you.” I pointed to the phone. “Him.”

Over the phone, my PA sighed dramatically. “That makes three times this week, Mr. Paxson. Please let me explain. I had your pilot submit an alternate flight plan when Mr. Storm of Storm Securities called. He said to check your email, and that he knew you would want to go to Colorado by way of Dallas.”

I hung up and immediately opened the email account that only Storm Halder and his employee Estefan Morales knew about, while the cold December wind raced through the open door. My heart leaped, then fell. I wasn’t going to make it to Colorado for New Year’s Eve, but I hoped, when I told Candy why, she would forgive me.

If this was true, that is.

I started to text Candy, then had to apologize to my PA to get her new number.

Sweetheart, I need to talk to you when you wake up. I’ll be late arriving.

The text was sent, but not read, and I checked the time as I slid into my car, nodding my thanks to my driver. Of course she wasn’t up yet. It was two in the morning in Colorado, already New Year’s Eve. I went ahead and sent a slew of texts and voice messages, explaining everything that had been happening with the mislabeling debacle. I debated telling her about Victor, but I knew that would be a complicated explanation, and since I hadn’t even told my siblings that he might be joining us, I let it go. More important was giving my true mate insights into what had distracted me from what should have been my primary focus. Her.

And giving her a peek into who I was, besides a businessman.

By the end of the trip to the airstrip, I’d devolved into sharing my favorite childhood memories, interspersed with shorter texts and favorite memes that my younger siblings had sent me over the years.

I’d never sent a woman this many messages in my life. Candy was either going to forgive me, delete me from her contacts, or have me committed. I finished by sending her one last short text, giving her a recap of my delay and my ETA in Telluride.

My mate mark itched relentlessly on the flight, as I reread the emails I’d received from the private investigator I’d hired months ago to do nothing but look for my brother.A week ago, Estefan had reported he had a line on a possible sighting of Victor. In his latest message, he’d attached a grainy picture of a man who looked like my brother in a market in Santiago.

At least, I thought it was Victor. It looked something like him, holding hands with a heavily pregnant woman. This man had a ragged beard, though, and his shoulders seemed narrower than Victor’s.

---