Nothing could have prepared me for the rush of absolute rage that gripped me as the badly dressed, shifty alpha standing with my dad was introduced to me as Chester Monk.
Chester. The bastard who had broken my omega.
“How do you do?” I said, my voice like sandpaper, withdrawing my hand.
I’ll give him this much. Chester knew something was wrong and had the good sense to be intimidated by me immediately. His neck and face flushed, and even though he was an alpha, he looked at me with all the wariness of a nerd who was about to be dragged out into the schoolyard and crushed by a jock.
“Er, nice to meet you, Mr., um, Salisbury Junior,” Chester said, raising a hand to wave at me instead of shaking.
I could practically see the man breaking out into a sweat. It was deeply satisfying to know he didn’t have the first clue why I wanted to kill him on the spot.
“It’s Jack,” I said, holding his gaze like I had my hand clamped around his neck.
Quincy shifted subtly closer to me. I liked that, and my alpha preened. Until I realized he was trying not to faint.
“I told you that you will not use that diminutive name,” my dad said, using his body and his voice to try to dominate the conversation. “Your name is John Salisbury, Jr.”
I broke eye contact with Chester to glance at my dad. It took me about two seconds to assess that now was not the time or the place to get into an argument over my name again. I had my omega to defend, and that was all that mattered.
“I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Salisbury,” the middle-aged beta woman who made up the fifth in the conversation said anxiously.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” I said, forcing myself to soften into a smile for her and shaking her hand.
“This is Amelia Yates, my boss,” Quincy introduced her quietly.
A sudden, silent tension fell over our awkward group.
Miss Yates glanced from me to Quincy. “Do you know him?” she asked, looking confused.
“No,” my dad answered quickly, which was as much of an admission otherwise as was possible.
Miss Yates extended the range of her glances to include me, Quincy, and my dad. She sent an awkward look to Chester as well, which made me wonder what the conversation had been like before I’d walked into the room.
“Okay,” she said slowly, deliberately withdrawing her hand from mine. She cleared her throat, pink splashed on her cheeks, and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Well. The Grand Hotel is so pleased to host you all. It is a rare privilege not only to play host to one of the brightest technical minds of our times—” she nodded to Chester, “but also to assist a state senator inbringing awareness of some of the most important technological advances of our time to the public. The Grand Hotel is at your disposal, gentlemen.”
“Let me give you a quick run-down of the capabilities this conference room has already,” Quincy addressed Chester in a pinched, wispy voice, “and then we can discuss what other enhancements you might need.”
“That would be great,” Chester said with a big, fake smile.
Quincy didn’t look at me as he stepped away from our group and up to the front of the room, where a podium already stood, but it felt like he glanced back begging me to help him. Or maybe that was just the feeling I had when Chester nodded to my dad, then Miss Yates, and followed after him.
I physically lurched toward Quincy, everything within me telling me to go after him and physically block the bastard who had hurt him from touching him, or even looking at him. The only thing that kept me nailed to my spot was years of training to be my dad’s lapdog, which I resented now more than I ever have.
“Is something going on that I should know about?” Miss Yates asked, dragging her gaze back from where she’d been watching Quincy and Chester walk away and looking between me and my dad.
“No,” Dad and I said at the same time, both too quickly.
Miss Yates’s expression said it all. She knew she was handling a ticking timebomb.
“I want that omega removed from this assignment,” my dad followed up.
“Oh, I—” Miss Yates moved restlessly. “Quincy is one of my best and most trusted team members.”
“I don’t care,” my dad said. “I don’t trust omegas to work on anything tech or science-related. They don’t have the capacity for it. Reassign him to the catering or housecleaning staff, where I’m sure he belongs.”
Miss Yates’ expression hardened. “Mr. Barber has been a valued member of our events coordination team for years, Senator,” she said, snapping into stronger formality. “I trust him implicitly to do this job.”
I liked her. She seemed to understand how special Quincy was. That scored her serious points in my book.
