"I'd like to explore that responsiveness further.Privately." Father's hand slides lower, his fingers spreading across the curve of Mattaniah's ass with a possessiveness that makes my vision narrow. "Tonight, perhaps. After the house quiets down."
I swallow back a snarl as I stalk forward, refusing to let this play out, regardless of the consequences. Mattaniah ismine,ours,Amos’ and mine.
My hand closes around Mattaniah's wrist and I yank him out of the cage of Father's body, pulling him behind me in a single motion that puts my body between them. The Omega stumbles against my back, his fingers clutching at my jacket, his scent flooding with something that isn't quite relief because relief requires safety and we're not there yet.
Father straightens. His expression doesn't change but his eyes track from my hand on Mattaniah's wrist to my position between them to the set of my shoulders.
"Dominic." He says my name like an observation. "I didn't realize you were still on this floor."
"Clearly."
Silence filters between us, only Mattaniah’s uneven breaths to be heard, the Omega pressed completely against my back.
Father's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Careful, son. People might get the wrong idea."
"People should."
Father's smile fades. For a moment, something flickers behind the mask, a flash of the predator that lives underneath the civilized veneer. "I see." He buttons his jacket with unhurried movements. "We'll discuss this later. In private."
"I look forward to it."
He walks away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway and around the corner and into the elevator. I don't move until I hear the doors close.
"Dominic." Mattaniah's voice is barely a whisper against my back. "He's going to—"
"I know what he's going to do." I turn and cup his face in my hands, tilting it up so I can see his eyes. They're wide and wet and full of a fear that makes something in my chest crack. "And I don't care. Do you understand me? I don't care what he does to me. He doesn't get to touch you like that."
"You just challenged him. In public. He's never going to—"
"Mattaniah." I brush my thumb across his cheekbone as his breath catches in his throat. "I need you to hear me. Whatever comes next, whatever he does in retaliation, it was worth it. Watching him put his hands on you and doing nothing was never an option."
His face crumples, his composure cracking. He leans forward and presses his forehead against my chest, his hands fisting in my shirt.
"Thank you." The words are muffled against my chest. "I know that's not enough but thank you."
I hold him in the copy room alcove for thirty seconds longer than is safe, my hand cupped around the back of his neck, his scent slowly shifting from sour fear to something warmer. When I finally release him, he straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair before reconstructing his composure piece by piece.
"Go back to your desk," I tell him. "Text me if you need me, okay?"
He nods and slips past me toward the main floor. I watch him go, Mattaniah squaring his shoulders, the fact that he can still perform after what just happened telling me more about his survival instincts than any file ever could.
Amos is waiting in my office when I get there, his feet propped on my desk and his laptop balanced on his thighs. He sets the laptop aside the second he sees my face. "I heard you pulled Mattaniah out of Father's hands in the copy room alcove. And told Father that peopleshouldget the wrong idea."
Of course. Information always travels fast in the office. People have already been whispering about our connection to Mattaniah. They used to whisper about Amos and I as well but we’ve continually squashed those rumors. "Who told you? Scratch that. It doesn’t matter." I drop into my chair and loosen my tie, my fingers working the knot with more force than necessary because the image of Father's hand curling toward Mattaniah's ass is still sitting behind my eyes.
"Someone messaged in the super secret work chat that no one knows I’m in." Amos swings his feet down. "How bad was it?"
"He had him backed against the wall. Hand on his ass. Talking about exploring his responsiveness tonight." I yank the tie free and toss it on the desk. "So I told him exactly what I meant by pulling Mattaniah away."
Amos leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "You know that escalates the timeline. Father doesn't take public challenges lightly, especially not from you."
"Father had him cornered in the copy room with his hand on his ass." I meet his eyes across the desk. "The challenge was his."
The silence between us carries the weight of thirteen years of navigating Father's retaliations. Amos holds my gaze for a long moment before nodding once. My phone buzzes against the desk. A text from Mattaniah:Thank you.
I pick it up and type back with my thumb while Amos watches from across the desk:For what?
The dots appear, disappear, and appear again.For stepping in. I know what he was doing. I felt his hand going lower.
