The Omega's Surprise Baby BOX SET

by Bonnar King

  Naturally, no one was pleased by my actions.

  I could tell Sam wasn’t pleased, either, though he kept his expression serene. I didn’t bother explaining to him as I leaned forward, too, and asked him what he was going to do.

  As if expecting the question, Sam slid another set of papers in front of me, detailing the change of my activities and the things he wanted me to attend. Charity events. Press junkets. Anger management.

  Oh, hell.

  He began to discuss. He began to tell me in a melodious voice that his job was to make sure I was kept in line, and the way he said it made it sound like I was some sort of business transaction. I tried my best to charm him and flirt a little, but he was having none of it, ignoring every attempt until I realized this omega was immune to my charms.

  Again, this was a terrible mistake. My old PR rep was an old man who pretty much let me do anything I wanted and did his best to spin things and do damage control, but Sam’s approach was to restrict me to the point where I wouldn’t even have the opportunity to step out of line to begin with. When Tom said this new person would be a step up, he didn’t tell me how much drastic of a change they were expecting. I planned to have a talk with Tom about it.

  But for now, it was time to ditch Sam, Mister Cheerful and hope that it pissed him off—and would make him quit.

  I kept up the charm, excusing myself after the meal to go to the restroom. Then, while Sam was preoccupied with eating, I slipped out the back door and drove off in my Lamborghini, pleased at how effortless it was. Sam never even asked me if I was agreeable to him terms, and I knew I was just getting a taste of this omega’s bossiness. Well, let him be bossy. As long as it wasn’t with me!

  I drove around the area for the next few minutes, then went back to my office and waited him out. He didn’t come back, and I was amazed at how easy it was to get rid of him. I usually didn’t deliberately make other people’s lives difficult, but he’d been pushing all my buttons and I wasn’t having any of it, no matter how hot he was.

  After finishing some paperwork, I called Tom, catching him just as he got out of a meeting with my accountants.

  “I ditched him.”

  There was a grumble on the other line. “Seriously?”

  “And he didn’t come back. You really should hire tougher people, you know,” I said, proudly.

  Tom sighed. “You do remember that I’m the one who has a say in the hiring and firing, right? Like we agreed on when we talked last time?”

  “I remember. But it’s not my fault if the person you hired quits.”

  I got him there, and he knew it. We hung up with him telling me he’ll see to the matter, and I wondered if that meant he was going to assign yet another PR rep to babysit me. Hopefully, it wasn’t a bossy omega this time.

  By the time most of my meetings were done, I left the office and drove back to my apartment, already thinking of what I should do. I wasn’t stupid—obviously I needed to lie low with my escapades with questionable omegas, and anything that might fan the fire for the board of directors at my company. I wasn’t going to follow all their demands like some obedient dog, but I knew enough to control myself and bide my time.

  When I entered my apartment, I knew something was off.

  A quick glance around determined that I wasn’t alone—particularly, the duffel bag that was placed almost carelessly on top of my couch. I was just thinking of calling security when I heard footsteps in the kitchen.

  Then I was met with a sight that would stay with me for a while.

  Sam Jones stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron and holding a skillet. I smelled eggs and bacon wafting through the air and tempting me with its scent.

  Then I saw the expression on his face—cheerful, open…welcoming.

  He wasn’t pissed off.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Instead of startling at my outburst, Sam shrugged, then proceeded to slip back in the kitchen. I followed him and gasped as he proceeded to transfer the cooked food to two plates, then slid one toward me.

  “You really should have read the last few pages of Tom’s documents,” Sam chirped. “He was very clear about my need to stay here to monitor you closely. Plus, he was also very clear about the fact that it was him who would fire me if he wasn’t satisfied with my performance.”

  He took his plate, forked an egg, then popped it in his mouth. His eyes closed for a few seconds, and he made a sound of pleasure that was part annoying, part arousing.

  I wished it was something else in his mouth right now!

  When Sam opened his eyes, he smiled at me again.

  “And trust me, Justin, I plan to make him very satisfied with my performance.”

  With a smile, Sam left the kitchen. He took the duffel bag from the living room and headed straight to my spare room, calling out that he hoped I didn’t mind if he occupied it in the meantime. I bit back my retort, my mind working a mile a minute trying to figure him out. He wasn’t like the other PR reps who handled me.

  And I did promise Tom I wouldn’t mess with his terms.

  A promise was a promise.

  With a sigh, I let him be. Then I went to my own room and shut the door.

  I had a feeling his pleasantness wasn’t going to last long, especially with what I had in mind for him.

  4

  Sam

  There were several things that I noticed in my stay at Justin’s apartment—penthouse suite, more like.

  First was that he was a morning person.

  He often disappeared around six and didn’t come back until it was seven, something I discovered when I forced myself to wake up early the first few days to start with the monitoring. It had baffled me at first and made me suspicious that he was out gallivanting and doing daredevil stunts again, but his sweaty body and jogging attire when he came back proved me wrong. I was thankful that I didn’t have to run beside him to make sure he didn’t stray.

  Second was that he was very serious about work—something that surprised me, really.

  I knew he was the CEO, but it was mostly his board members who ran the show. I expected that to mean he didn’t have anything to do with decision making and was mostly the CEO face of the company. But again, Justin proved me wrong when he went to the office or stayed in his home office for hours on end, going over business proposals and making important calls. I overheard business terms and meetings, arguments, and realized that he was as brilliant as the media painted him when it came to business dealings and negotiations.

  Third was that he liked to walk around his apartment shirtless.

  Now, this was something I usually didn’t care about, because I’d seen enough shirtless men in my three years as a PR rep: supermodels, actors and athletes, to name a few. I expected myself to be immune to the sight of his tanned, bare chest.

  But that wasn’t the case, to my shock. Every time he walked by me without his shirt on, I found myself holding my breath and trying to resist the urge to ogle at him, then I found myself trying to control the pinkish tinge that was about to spread on my cheeks. It was awkward and inconvenient, and I ended up having to avoid him and wait him out until he finally wore something on top.

  A week into this habit and I realized that he was doing it on purpose.

  It should have pissed me off. Instead, it only made me more determined to wait him out and act as calm as possible. I decided to give him a dose of his own medicine by changing his schedule completely and making him attend a video press conference that he couldn’t get out of, because it involved one of his major investors.

  Justin retaliated by walking around his house in nothing but his boxers and making me almost have a heart attack. He was absolutely divine from head to toe—it was easy to see why this alpha had the ego he did. It didn’t hurt that he had a massive bulge, which made me think about how big his cock would be when hard.

  I freaked out the first time he walked into the living room wearing only that. Then I shot up from
the couch and glared at him, even while trying not to really look at him.

  “Will you cover yourself up?” I complained.

  Justin raised a brow, pausing in the middle of his walk. “Will you leave this place freely and quit this job?”

  “No,” I bit out.

  Justin smirked. “Okay then. I’ll wear… or not wear whatever I want, as this is my house.”

  He disappeared into his bedroom, thankfully. I sat back on the couch and tried not to let images of his muscular body and impressive package bombard my mind. He was underwear model hot, yes—but he was also too arrogant for his own good, and that was something else that needed to be kept in check. He probably expected me to be grateful that he didn’t bring any slutty omegas into his home to further torture me—but then again, that was something Tom cleared up by confirming that he didn’t bring omegas to his penthouse suite. Apparently, he was more private than I thought, which threw me off the trail as I tried to figure out what he was all about.

  The second week was as uneventful as the first week, with Justin surprisingly being well-behaved and spending most of his time in the office. I had him attend a few more video conferences that would do wonders for his image cleanup, then scheduled an actual attendance to a charity event that he donated money in. He was a billionaire, so what was the point of donating if you didn’t pay attention to it?

  By the time the second week was done, I was amazed at how I had managed to survive—well, barely survive. Justin kept aggravating me, and I took it all standing up, then I became more uptight with him and ended up annoying him at times. Still, he was civil, and we built an awkward routine that involved him doing subtle things to make me think of quitting, and me avoiding him as much as I could while we were in the same freaking space.

  Justin was rich and often got what he wanted, and I deduced that this was his form of a tantrum for having a tough PR rep put a hold on his extracurricular activities. But because he was rich, he deviated his attention by ordering expensive items online out of boredom.

  That was when I realized just how rich he was.

  First were the speakers that cost an arm and a leg, which he blasted to full volume when I was trying to concentrate on writing something for his social media outlets and press releases. Then there was the hot tub that he had placed on his balcony across the living room, where he leisured around in his swimming trunks and distracted me more than I cared to admit. He had muscles for days, and he flexed them around and made it all look so illegal.

  The last straw was when he talked to someone on the phone and bargained with designs for renovating the pool on the rooftop—which meant the noise would barely let me to work at anything at all.

  When he hung up, I shot him a look.

  “You know you can always go out whenever you want,” I said sweetly.

  Justin, who’d been standing by the balcony sliding glass door, glanced in my direction before shrugging. “And do what?”

  “I don’t know. Do pleasant stuff. Like a walk in the park. Eat some ice cream. Go to an art gallery or museum. Something amusing.”

  “I find bars and clubs amusing,” he said, with a smirk.

  “Except that,” I added. “Something that doesn’t involve anything that will raise your adrenaline. The new terms also state that you can’t be trusted alone in bars.”

  I was gloating. It was wrong and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it. I expected it to annoy him again, and I braced myself for some sarcastic barb coming from him. Surprised filled me when he gave me a thoughtful look.

  “You’re right,” Justin murmured.

  A gleam entered his eyes, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

  “I can’t go to a bar alone. Get dressed.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Get dressed,” he repeated, leaving the balcony door and heading toward his bedroom. “We’re heading to the bar, and you can’t say no.”

  “Why?” I blurted out.

  He turned to shoot me a smug grin. “Because then you would be violating the terms by letting me go out without proper supervision.”

  The door slammed. And me?

  All I could do was gasp at his words, wondering how I had been duped by my own stupid game.

  I hated bars, because they were noisy and rowdy—and full of fake people. I especially wasn’t fond of those that were high-end and frequented by popular people like movie stars, athletes and the like, having been there when I handled past clients and knowing things could get pretty intense with all the booze and the drugs. I had one particular client who took drugs without my knowledge and made a mess as it was splashed all over the newspaper the next day, and all the damage control I did for him didn’t help. He was ostracized by society and had to check himself to rehab shortly after. That had been one of my first jobs, and I’d been more tenacious since, knowing one slip-up could cost me my reputation and future assignments.

  “Did you change your mind? I could always go ahead, you know,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  Justin’s deep voice echoed through the other end of my bedroom door, and I shot said door a glare.

  “I’m coming,” I bit out, forcing myself to sound pleasant and cheerful. This damn alpha certainly knew how to rile my temper up.

  After getting dressed, I went out and faced him in the living room, where he was sitting on the couch and looking…well, fucking gorgeous in black slacks and a dark blue sweater that brought out the color of his eyes. At first, I couldn’t meet his eyes, but realized that wasn’t going to do, because I didn’t want him to see me uncomfortable or affected by however he looked. So, I lifted my gaze up.

  I froze at what I saw in his intense eyes and smoldering good looks. He was eyeing me up again just like the first day we met, that slow sweep that started from toe this time, then travelled up and lingered on my ass and then crotch. I was wearing a black suit, with the top button of my white shirt open.

  Then his gaze lingered a little bit longer on my mouth, and then said mouth went dry. The blue in his eyes darkened, an emotion that had me clearing my throat as I was suddenly devoid of air.

  “What?” I croaked out.

  His gaze slid up, meeting mine. Whatever I saw there earlier was gone, and in its place, was the same faint amusement and knowing air that had always been there before.

  “Nothing. You look appropriate. Let’s go,” Justin ordered.

  I looked…appropriate? Huh.

  I frowned at the words. Then, realizing I was going to drive myself crazy trying to figure out what he meant by that, I dismissed it from my mind and followed him out the door.

  5

  Justin

  In his two weeks staying at my place, Sam had never worn anything but loose shirts, sweaters, pants and sweatpants, and other than his seductive smell and cute smile, I’d seen him enough in those outfits to be immune to his presence—at least, when he didn’t pick a fight with me or tried to control me. Of course, there was the red hair and those green eyes, which made it hard to forget sometimes that underneath all the prim attitude was indeed a hot-as-fuck omega—not my type of omega, as I preferred tall, willowy ones, but a hot omega all the same.

  Maybe it was his prim attitude itself that made me forget about the fantastic body I’d noticed on our first meeting. Nevertheless, I was witnessing it now in full glory, and I remembered how he made me speechless for a while when he first stepped out of the bedroom in his tight-fitting suit that hugged his body more than usual.

  Downing my martini, I snuck a glance at him again—something I’d been doing since we separated and mingled in our own ways inside the bar. By separate ways, I mean around two seats away from the long bar. He really had the creamiest skin, and his tight body had something inside me stirring. Still, it was something I could ignore. For now.

  What I couldn’t ignore was the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

  Sam was drinking an orange juice, and I was about to tease him about it when someone sat beside h
im at the bar. It was an alpha, maybe early forties, with blond hair and a pretty fit body. He was wearing a suit, indicating that maybe he came from the office before heading straight here. He also had a ring around his finger, which he tried to hide as he introduced himself to Sam in a low voice.

  Sam took one look at his finger—pointedly. My mouth quirked as Sam succinctly told the alpha to go home to his partner instead of flirting with omegas in bars.

  Said alpha reddened with embarrassment. Then he slipped off, muttering something under his breath. Then another alpha approached Sam—a teenager this time—and I had to keep myself from laughing as Sam treated the alpha to the same rejection that he did the first one. Only this time letting down the young alpha easily.

  By the time a third alpha came, I realized Sam wasn’t trying to be cold.

  He was just naturally awkward or reserved. It was pretty cute, really.

  The third alpha didn’t look too bad. He actually reminded me of Tom a lot, who was fine-looking with pleasant features and a seemingly affable personality. Of course, behind Tom’s affable looks were a sharp mind and an endless supply of sarcasm, which was one of the reasons we hit it off during college, as best friends rather than rivals.

  The alpha made some compliment toward Sam, then flirted with him a little bit. Sam never flirted back with me when I did that with him, and I watched as Sam tried to flirt back with the alpha.

  Except he fumbled. A lot. He also gave off negative vibes, and I could see the alpha slowly beginning to lose interest as he talked about his career and work, then remained silent on other subjects that Sam brought up. I also noticed that Sam didn’t laugh much when the alpha made boring jokes. Sam didn’t even pretend to enjoy them, unlike other omegas here who were trying to land their sugar-daddies.