Chapter 20
Malcolm
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Energy writhes beneaththe surface of my skin and I have to take a slow breath to center myself. Bit by bit I draw it back until I’m firmly in control; gods know that I need to be. If anything were to go wrong, I have to be able to react in a blink. I may have complete faith that my magic will instinctively protect Scarlett before I could so much as twitch a muscle, but if I slip and kill one of my employees, I’ll make everything worse than it already is.
In my usual spot at the head of the conference table, I glance at my watch before looking back at the door on the opposite side of the room.Five more minutes.Scarlett has the seat to my left with Beck on her free side, the two of them on their laptops and trying to distract themselves from the tension in the air that has us all on edge. My nerves are temporarily replaced by a stab of jealousy when the light catches on the ring on Scarlett’s finger, pissed at myself for not thinking of it first.
Human customs outside of business relations aren’t my strong suit, but the shifters are usually even further removed, so I’m surprised the wolf beat me to the punch. A momentary wave of warmth reaches me through the bond as Scarlett subtly glances at it from the corner of her eye, going back to her game with a small smile, and my annoyance fades away. Her other mates aresupposedto make her happy, and I’m not the only one that can get her gifts.
Though I bet I can still secretly be her favorite if I up my game.
As if he can sense the direction of my thoughts, Beck scratches his neck like the obnoxious dick that he is to flash me the tattoo around his ring finger made up of her name in cursive. Jewelry isn’t exactly practical where shifters are concerned. He never looks my way, but he can clearly feel my narrowed glare as a shit-eating grin spreads across his face.
Kasen’s leaning against the wall behind me in the corner where he can keep an eye on the entire room. As soon as people trickle in they’re going to recognize her from that damn news story, so it won’t be any surprise that Kasen’s post will be between the two of us. Despite everyone in attendance today being well aware that I don’t require such protection and expecting him to hover over her as a personal guard, we’re worried it might backfire once the news is revealed and appear as if he were more of a prison guard, ensuring she didn’t attack anyone.
“It’s going to be fine,” she assures softly without looking up. “Worst case scenario, I’ll eat them to hide the evidence and we can try again with a fresh crowd.”
The corner of my lips twitches. “Angel, you shouldn’t threaten to eat other men in front of your mates; we might get jealous.”
Her small smile grows as she carries on with her game. “Then I suppose we just have to hope that they’re willing to listen.”
Beck pipes up, “And if not, the ocean’s conveniently close by to hide the bodies. No need for our girl to get her hands dirty.”
Kasen is silent, his focus entirely on ensuring this doesn’t wind up a bloodbath, or if so, that we walk away the victors. It’s eating at him though, the pressure. These people will be men and women we’ve worked beside for years, and the last thing either of us wants is to have to kill them.
We absolutely will though, if it comes down to it. It’s not even a choice when it comes to the safety of our mate. But we’re going to do everything in our power to ensure that today goes well, which is ten times harder to pull off. As a result, the man doesn’t so much as pretend to engage in conversation, even with Scarlett, lest he miss the smallest sign that could betray someone’s intent and she pay the price.
The door cracks open and for a split second, Scarlett and Beckett’s hands both still. They recover before the first person takes a step inside, throwing themselves wholeheartedly into their distraction. Sixteen bodies fill the room and take their seats, and as expected, their attention keeps flitting to Scarlett and even briefly Beck, though they attempt to be discreet about it. There are no hushed murmurings; not when there are shifters around. A few attempt to catch my eye, to which I meet easily, daring them to ask. Ultimately, they all bite their tongues, sensing the signs of a power play at work and accepting the instinctive warning that has the hairs on the back of their necks rising.
“Rebecca, care to start us off?”
She doesn’t hesitate; never does. In a world heavily dominated by men, she ruthlessly fought through the ranks in one of my offices on the other side of the country, forcing her way onto my radar despite the attempts of those that tried to keep her off of it. I gave her the pleasure of firing them for the abuse of power, and she’s returned the favor by going above and beyond the call of duty ever since.
She whips out her briefcase and starts passing documents down the line, presenting her case for an increase in funding in her department. When she’s finished, I gesture to Ben, who gives her a brief scowl. It’s not worth calling him out; whoever follows her presentations is always upset because they have to fight harder to one up her, since she has a reputation for making eloquent pitches coupled with a slew of statistics, yet somehow manages to keep interest sparked. It’s really the only enjoyment I get from these meetings; reminding everyone that their place at the top isn’t an excuse to relax, but actually a harder job than starting from square one at the bottom.
It’s easy to see progress when you have nothing and are grateful for a step up in the brutal world, but the higher you climb, the further the gap between steps. And once you reach the top?
There’s only so much room on the peak of a mountain. The real fight begins when you have everything to lose.
