Five minutes later, the reply arrives in my inbox as I towel off.
Anything I should know about?Art asked.
Side effects and breakthrough symptoms are both things he’s legally obligated to report, so he knows better than to ask too many questions.
I scroll through the data—all within spec.
I reply to Arthur,No. Test it again.
#
I interact with Jamie as little as possible until the evening’s fireside chat.
The vanilla notes are strongest in his scent today, and though my mouth waters, it’s nothing I can’t handle. The distance has settled back into place. I’m in control.
Another city, another conference center stage. After all these years, they blend into one another. Every speech, every celebration, every product release feels the same. Boring.
But not these fireside chats with Jamie. Each one offers new hints about this omega who seems to have a habit of closely guarding his true self—until he’s on stage. When he speaks, it’s like a flower unfurling. Every eye is captivated, centered on his soft words, his quiet mannerisms. He has no idea how well he’s doing, how much he was born for this.
We’ve been refining the questions as the PR tour continues, and tonight, there’s a new one.
The host, one of my regional HR leaders, asks him, “If there was one thing you could tell omegas out there who are struggling… what would it be?”
“I would tell them—” He starts with the measuredconfidence that comes from having thought about the question before. But then the words catch, his eyes going misty. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to get this emotional, um… I would tell them: you’re not alone.”
The host’s expression softens with compassion, and she leans over to place a comforting hand on Jamie’s wrist.
Every muscle tenses. The beast roars. It wants to crush this woman’s throat. Wants to see her blood spray across the stage.
I force my breathing to stay even as I slip my hand around to the backstage side of my chair and tap my fingers against it. Nobody in the audience can see. Jamie and the host are unlikely to notice.
I tap out a series of letters and numbers in Morse code, switching fingers with every tap. Sometimes it’s the latest stock ticker, the headline of a press release, the quarterly performance results by product. Today, it’s the molecular name of our first formula’s active ingredient. I keep the sequence going even as I field my next question.
As long as I can execute that sequence flawlessly, I remain confident in my skills.
Gia says it’s OCD. I say I don’t care what it’s called if it works.
The whole fucking point of this PR tour is to prove that this exact thing isn’t a problem.
So, it won’t be a problem.
I picked this omega because he was going to be a challenge, and I haveneverfailed to meet a challenge.
I won’t let this be the first time.
#
It’s back on the jet to the next city. I busy myself with calls and emails, waiting until Jamie picks his seat to take the one farthest from him. I’ll have more filters installed to reduce the scentbuildup in the cabin.
Weather keeps us from landing on time, so we arrive at the hotel late.
I give my ID to the woman at the front desk, and her face pales as she punches it in.
Fuck. “Let’s hear it,” I mutter.
“I’msosorry,” she says. “There was a plumbing emergency in the suite, and it’s currently closed for repairs. But I’ve given you the best possible room.”
“Is it another suite?”
