The dismissal stings more than I want to admit. I want to argue and tell him he's wrong, but the truth is he's right. By keeping my distance, by refusing to acknowledge what's between us, I'm causing him a different kind of pain.
I say nothing as I close the door behind me, leaving him alone in his room, the hallway quiet, most of the house staff already gone for the evening. I’m halfway to my own room at the other end of the hall when my phone buzzes. Jaw clenched, I pull it out of my pocket, unsurprised to see Charles’ name pop up on my phone with a very short, direct text.
In my office. Now.
Charles Driscoll doesn't ask. He commands. And as his employee, I'm expected to jump when he says jump.
I change direction, heading toward the main office on the first floor. The door is partially open when I arrive, but I knock once before entering as a courtesy, finding Ashton's father sitting behind his massive desk.
He gestures for me to close the door, the movement carrying an undercurrent of authority that's impossible to ignore. "Tell me," he says once the door clicks shut, "did you get the name of the man who hurt my son?"
I keep my expression neutral, giving nothing away. "Sir?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Stefan." Charles leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "I know you keep a closer eye on Ashton than anyone does, and for that I'm grateful. I need him in prime condition. But someone purposefully hurting him without my approval? I won't have that."
There’s so many things wrong with what Charles just said that it’s nearly impossible to swallow down my reaction. If he truly kept a closer eye on Ashton, he would know that his son had needed stitches. That I should have had access to a fuckingdoctornot my stepbrother’s old med kit. But what really has my blood boiling is that Charles’ actually said the deviant part aloud.Without my approval.
As if, as long as Charles sanctions it, Ashton’s pain is okay. As if Charles has the right to approve or disapprove of who hurts his son, as if Ashton's pain is something to be managed rather than prevented.
"Now," Charles continues, his eyes boring into mine, "did you get a name?"
I clear my throat, choosing my words carefully. "No, sir. But I think I have a direction."
"Oh?" One eyebrow raises in question.
"The Volkov group," I say, naming one of the organizations Charles recently severed ties with. "The ones we had to break contract with last month. I think that's where we start."
It's a calculated guess, but it makes sense. The Volkovs were pissed about losing the lucrative shipping arrangement they had with Charles, angry enough to make threats about retaliation. Going after Ashton would be exactly their style, hurting Charles where it counts while maintaining plausible deniability.
It makes even more sense seeing as how I was the voice of that final meeting and if they truly believed Ashton was mine...
Charles nods slowly, processing this information. "Good. Find out who it was specifically and bring him to me."
"Yes, sir." I turn to leave, eager to escape this conversation and the implications of what Charles just asked me to do.
"Stefan." His voice stops me at the door.
I turn back, waiting for another command.
"Keep your hands off my son." The words are delivered calmly, but there's a clear warning beneath them. "I know he's tempting. A beautiful Omega like that, it's natural to be attracted. But he's part of the package, part of what I use to seal deals and maintain relationships. I won't have him being dirtied by the help."
I should have known that that’s what I am to him. Not an employee, not even a person really. Just the help, someone hired to do a job and easily replaceable if I step out of line.
I nod, keeping my face carefully blank. "Yes, sir." It isn’t until I get back to my room that I let out some of that frustration, a growl rumbling through the small space.
Chapter twenty-five
Solana
I sit wrapped up in a fluffy towel on the kitchen counter, my legs dangling over the edge while Kade stands behind me working on my hair. My body is still a little tired after waking up in the nest, that bone-deep exhaustion that comes from my first real knotting settling into my muscles.
But more than tired, I'm disappointed that Dustin wasn't there when I opened my eyes. The nest felt empty without him, even with Kade's arms wrapped around me and his scent surrounding us. I tried not to show it, trying to be understanding when Kade explained that Dustin had to step out for a family emergency. But my Omega instincts didn't care about rational explanations. They just knew that one of my Alphas was missing, and that felt wrong.
Kade gave me a full shower after I woke, even washing my individual braids with this lavender mint shampoo that smelled incredible and made the hair exceptionally soft. I'd never had anyone wash my hair for me before; the sensation of his strong fingers massaging my scalp almost enough to put me back to sleep right there in the shower.
Now he's drying them with the towel, working section by section with patience I didn't know he possessed. His hands move with surprising ease as he starts braiding my individual braids up into a larger style, gathering them at the crown of my head and weaving them together.
I tilt my head back slightly to look up at him, curious about this unexpected skill. "When did you ever learn to do that?"
