Still, I have to state my case. "The mistake was corrected," I tell him, keeping my tone professionally flat. "The employee has been terminated, and we've implemented additional checks to ensure it doesn't happen again."
"That's not the point!" Father stops pacing and turns to face us, his eyes devoid of any possible warmth. "The point is that it happened in the first place. You're supposed to be better than this, Dominic. You're supposed to be ready to take over this company, and yet you can't even manage a simple quarterly report without embarrassing me."
My jaw clenches, the muscle ticking as I fight to keep my expression neutral. The instinct to defend myself, to point out that the mistake wasn't mine and that we handled it perfectly, wars with learned behavior. Speaking back only makes things worse. Fighting only gives him more ammunition to use against us later.
Beside me, Amos shifts slightly. His hands unclasp, and then I feel his fingers brush against mine. It's subtle, barely noticeable to anyone not paying attention, but the touch pulls me back from the edge of the anger threatening to ruin me. His handslides into mine, and some of the tension bleeding through my shoulders eases.
I let out a slow breath through my nose, focusing on the feeling of Amos' palm pressed against mine rather than the words coming out of Father's mouth.
The desk phone rings, cutting through the tirade. Father glares at it for a moment before snatching up the receiver. "What?"
There's a pause while whoever is on the other end speaks. Father's expression shifts, the anger melting into something almost pleased. He nods a few times, murmurs something I can't hear, and then hangs up.
"The dynamics of this house are about to change," Father tells us, straightening his tie and moving around the desk. "I've chosen an Omega. She'll be living here from now on, along with her son."
The words hit like a slap.
An Omega. Here. In this house.
In my house.
I stare at Father, waiting for him to elaborate, to explain when this happened and why this is the first we're hearing about it. Amos' hand tightens around mine, the only indication that he's just as blindsided as I am.
"You're just telling us this now?" I ask, my voice dangerously low, a sliver of Alpha bark bleeding into the question.
Father's lip pulls up in a dangerous snarl, his eyes flashing with warning. "I'm telling you now because they've just arrived," he says, adjusting his cufflinks like this is a perfectly normal conversation. "You'll meet them downstairs in a moment. I expect you both to be respectful and welcoming. They're part of this family now."
Fury rises in my chest. Five seconds ago I was worthless, dirt on his shoe because he decided I couldn't do my job properly. Now I'm supposed to greet his new Omega without question? Nodiscussion, no warning, just a phone call and a command to play happy family?
"Her son," I repeat, the words tasting bitter. "You're telling me we have a new stepbrother?"
"Technically, yes," Father says, already moving toward the door. "I haven't married his mother yet, though the distinction hardly matters. Collect yourselves and meet me in the main hall. I won't tolerate rudeness from either of you."
He walks out without another word, leaving Amos and me standing in the suffocating silence of his office.
The moment the door clicks shut, I move. My hands are on Amos before he can react, spinning him and pressing him back against the door. The sound echoes through the room, Amos' breath hitching as my hand wraps around his throat.
I kiss him hard, all teeth and desperation and rage that has nowhere else to go. Amos melts against me immediately, his body going pliant the way it always does when I take control. His hands come up to grip my shirt, holding on as I pour every ounce of frustration into the kiss. When his fingers brush across the bond mark seared into my chest, the anger morphs into something else entirely.
If we had the time, I would fuck him right here in this office, Father be damned.
The public thinks we're related. Half-siblings by blood, sharing a father, which is exactly the lie Father encourages because it keeps us controllable. The truth is simpler and more dangerous: Amos is my first stepmother's son, my best friend, my lover, and my bonded mate. The only man both strong enough and reckless enough to pull me back when I see red.
I force myself to pull back. We're both breathing hard, Amos' lips reddened and his eyes dark with want, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that makes me want to throw him over the desk.
"You can ruin me later," Amos purrs, his voice coming out rough. "It seems we have a little brother to meet."
"That's not our brother," I growl, my hand still loose around his throat. "It's someone Father dragged in for a reason, and I'm going to find out what that reason is."
Amos tilts his head, the smirk widening. "You nearly killed our father just now. I could feel it."
"I know." The admission comes easier with Amos than it would with anyone else. He knows what Father does to us and the rage that simmers just beneath my carefully controlled surface. "That's why you're here. You keep me from doing something I can't take back."
"Most of the time," Amos corrects, before leaning in to kiss me again.
This one is slower. A reminder that we're in this together. His tongue slides against mine and I press closer, pinning him more firmly against the door. My mind races ahead to what I want to do to him later, all the ways I'm going to take him apart until he's boneless and spent.
But first we have to deal with whatever Father has dragged into our lives.
