Marcus shook his head. “No… I want to tell you. Maybe not all the details but… anyway, something bad happened. They tried to force me to marry Vincent.”
Parker wanted to yell in protest at that, as if it were happening now, but he held his tongue. He wanted to let Marcus get it out.
“I texted you. Because you’re my brother. My twin. We’ve always been there for each other. But this time, you told me that I needed to submit to Mom and Dad. That they knew best.”
My voice was harsh with repressed anger. “Fuck… Marcus, you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t send those messages. The week you left, I was… messed up. I basically didn’t leave my room all that week. Mom came down for a few days, I told her it was the flu, but it was really me. I just couldn’t deal. I didn’t even look at my phone for a week after she left, and when I did, I couldn’t find it. I bought a new one, and that’s when I found out about the fight with Mom and Dad. They said you disowned them. And that you disowned me.”
Marcus gaped. “I didn’t—I never. What the fuck did that bitch say?”
I realized Marcus meant our mother, but even with his words, and I believed him, I couldn’t start to reconcile the woman I knew with his story, so I deflected. “Can we start from the beginning?” My voice was more plaintive than I had intended.
Marcus twisted his drink around, the coaster spinning underneath it. “I don’t know if I’m ready to start there. I’m not really ready to relive it quite yet. But can we start from here? What are you doing? How are you doing?”
My vision blurred, and I smiled. “We can absolutely start from here. Marcus.”
14
Miles
Digging through a bazillion boxes in my parent’s garage looking for where my formal wear had wound up during the catastrophe that was losing my job wasn’t the way I planned to spend my Saturday. I had been such a hot mess of anger, embarrassment, and fear that week I was packing, that I wasn’t even sure if I had, in fact, packed it. For all I knew, it was sitting in the middle of a landfill somewhere making some rodents’ home extra luxurious.
I’d managed to label exactly zero boxes, and so far, I had opened and closed six boxes of books, three boxes of kitchen items, and a box of garbage. Yes, in my haze, I had managed to box up the bedroom waste basket, unemptied. Thank goodness for small favors—it only contained a few tissues and the wrapper from a new set of pens, not the kitchen trash complete with egg shells and who knew what.
The next box started off benign enough. A few DVDs of Dr. Who, a dictionary, and a stuffed dog I’d had since I was a small child and couldn’t bring myself to part with. But below those, I came found my I’m a Lawyer – What’s your superpower? mug. It was a cheap novelty item, yet the impact of coming face to face with it would’ve brought me to my knees had I not already been on the ground.
I wasn’t a lawyer now, though I had put all my time an energy into being one. It had been the thing that gave me my worth after my world crumbled. Any good psychologist will tell you that attaching your worth to something like a job only led to instability, but I couldn’t help it. I was a lawyer. Except I no longer was. Now I was an almost-paralegal working a sort-of-kind-of job for my dad as he waited to marry me off.
I remembered the day I got that silly mug. Mr. Fips had left it on my desk while I was still an intern waiting for my bar results. He had some connections, and knew I had passed before I did. Mr. Fips was the most amazing mentor one could ask for, and it had hurt that he had believed them over me. Not that he’d ever say that to my face. He was a kind man, even if he hadn’t stood up for me when it all went down. Not that he’d had much of a chance; he’d been working on a high profile case that included a sequestered jury and a media circus. I’d almost called him a couple of times since things went south, but chickened out every blasted time. Nothing good could come of that. Some dogs were best left lying.
I slammed that box closed and pulled out three more before hitting the jackpot… or so I thought before I pulled out my once lavish suit. Packed in the box with my king-sized sheets, it sat neatly folded on top, but as I reached into the box a high pitched squeak filled my ears. It didn’t take long for me to discover not just a mouse, but an entire nest of babies. The box was at the curb within moments and I was in the shower boiling away the nasties. I could handle a lot. I’d even captured a centipede in a canning jar with ease, but mice—they were a big old nope.
A half hour later, I was in my car headed to a rental place, hoping it didn’t take too much of my savings to rent a decent tux. It wasn’t like I could back out now. Not only had I declined a date, but I’d declared that I miraculously had one. Mother was going to be ripping mad when I showed up without a hottie on my arm, but I’d face her wrath over going out with McCreepster any day.
The rental place was oddly crowded and I took my time looking over their options. I knew what I was going to pick before walking in, but waiting there just standing felt odd.
“I like the purple one, personally.” My head snapped back as a voice from my past filled my ears.
“Jace. I haven’t seen you since—” I didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Since our friendship dissolved after some stupid test results because that was how it went down and it wasn’t something I’d been proud of.
“Since we were young asshats?” He winked. Good old Jace, always so forgiving of everyone, except himself.
“Yeah that. You look—pregnant.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? For all I knew he could have a beer gut—or worse, a tumor. You never mention a pregnancy unless you are darn tootin’ sure.
“It’s why I’m here. The stupid gala equals formal wear and there is no way I’m buying a paternity tux.” He was practically glowing, the happiness radiating off of him. It did my heart good to see him like this. We might not have stayed in contact, but he always held a place in my heart and I would always love him.
“I had a mouse nest in mine.” I shrugged and he burst out laughing.
“As if fate was all, ‘He best not wear that thing again.’”
I couldn’t help but join in with his laughter. He wasn’t wrong. If there was one way to assure I’d never touch something, it would be to have a mouse guard it.
We spent the next two hours catching up, mostly on his amazing new life as a mate and a father, trying on over the top tuxes before settling on the basic ones we both knew we’d end up with, and laughing. I needed that. Maybe the mice were a good thing. Never mind. That was plum crazy talk. But seeing Jace again after all these years, especially doing well, eased the ragged edges of my heart.
Now if only I could make the rest of my life flow as easily as the conversation between Jace and I, then life would be good. Scratch that. It would be amazing.
15
Parker
Lisa was already on duty when I walked in the office, as she was every morning. Even if I was early, Lisa was earlier. I had two theories on that: either she slept at the office, or she had bugged me somehow. GPS tracker on my car, cameras in my house. It was all nonsense, I know, but it gave me something to tease her about. She was the only assistant I’d been able to keep for more than six months, and she’d been with me for three years now. I think it helped that she was a no-nonsense grandmother who’d raised kids older than me. Whatever the reason, I was grateful. The young assistants I hired were too intimidated by me, and most of the older more experienced ones wouldn’t put up with my crap. Lisa didn’t put up with my crap either, but instead of walking out, she’d said it to my face about a month after she’d started. We’d had it out, and then I doubled her pay and let her manage me the way she best saw fit. I was beyond grateful she’d chosen to make the move with me from California. I didn’t have time to train up someone to even a quarter of her worth.
“Good morning, Lisa. Just let me get plugged in, and then we can go over my schedule.”
She nodded and stood to prep our morning coffee. I was a coffeeaholic with no dis
cernable taste and Lisa was a connoisseur. She’d sniffed in derision at the first gas station cup I’d brought in, promptly dumped it down the toilet, and sent someone out to buy a French Press and a pound of Costa Rican coffee that day. Ever since, I waited until I got to the office for my coffee, and we enjoyed a cup together while going over the daily plan.
A few minutes later, my suit jacket already tossed to the side and my iPad in front of me, I scanned through the files Lisa had sent over at… four in the morning? The woman was a machine. Lisa entered a few moments later, our coffee on a tray. I set my iPad aside and took the mug she offered me, then closed my eyes and enjoyed my coffee while she gave me the day’s schedule.
“And you should leave work forty-five minutes early today so that you have time to dress before the Omega Rights Gala.”
My eyes flew open at that. “Already?”
Lisa quirked a questioning eyebrow at me, but my mind was drifting. The Omega Rights Gala had been the first event I’d attended when I’d moved here a year ago. It was hard to believe a year had gone by. I shook my head, dismissing the reminiscence. “Continue.”
“In the files I sent over this morning, you’ll see the list of potential clients and investors who we know will be attending the gala. I’ve also included short overviews of each one, if you need to refresh yourself on their potential and position.
I smiled. “Lisa, you’re a dream.”
The woman didn’t even smile. She just nodded curtly and said, “Thank you.” She was a goddess among women. A goddess among assistants.
“Are you planning on taking a plus one, sir? Per your norm, I RSVP’d that you would, but can easily let them know that has changed.”
For once, my mind stuttered. Did I want to? I normally did. But the gala had completely snuck up on me, and I hadn’t asked anyone in advance. I ran through my options. Su Lin, a friend of mine who imported textiles from Asia for high-end fashion houses, was my typical go-to, as we both used these events for business networking. Her wife was a hermit-like artiste style, and you couldn’t pay that woman enough to attend a public function where she’d have to talk to boring executive types. No matter that a good percentage of them would be wearing clothes she herself had designed. But I happened to know that Su Lin was on an extended visit to China. So that was out.
One by one, I considered and dismissed a list of potential dates while Lisa waited patiently. Finally, I shook my head. “No, Lisa, I’ll be attending tonight’s function alone.”
“Very good, sir.” With no further small talk, she stood and let herself out while I tried to get myself back in a business mindset. The problem was, my brain kept spinning, thinking of people I could take with me tonight. My fingers pressed against my wallet, considering Miles’s card. But no. If I was going to see Miles again, I didn’t want it to be business. I dared not hope for pleasure, but perhaps for friendship?
If not Miles, what about Ze—Marcus? The name change was going to take some getting used to, but at least Marcus was still part of his given name. I shot off a quick text to my brother to see if he’d be interested in attending with me. His response came back quickly. He was working tonight. I knew that I could easily reimburse him whatever paltry wages he was making at the coffee shop, but knowing my brother, as flighty as he might act, he would take offense to that. We Spears were nothing if not prideful.
So in the end, I was still attending alone. It wouldn’t be the first time. Finally having worked through my thoughts, I was able to push thoughts of the gala to the evening and dig into my work.
16
Miles
Arriving at the gala alone was not ideal, given the lie hanging over my head, but not showing up at all would’ve been far worse. It had been bad enough at home that I left early to avoid the awkward questioning over where my date was and why wasn’t he respecting me enough to show up at my front door like a good alpha should? Not that I’d said my date was an alpha, but it was their assumption. A part of me wanted to show up with another omega or a beta just to see their faces. That part of me never would act, but it was fun to think about.
As always with these events, everything was about the show. Who was there? How large was the check they accidentally let all the people see? And, in many cases, who wasn’t there, or who always came up just short on an auction bid? It was a people watcher’s dream come true. Unfortunately, most of them couldn’t afford the thousand dollar plate. Not that I could, but since one had been provided for me, there I was.
At least the event was worthy. More than. The money was divided amongst a number of different charities that focused on the wellbeing of omegas. Some focused on the political, which was sadly needed given our current political environment, but most focused on helping omegas in need, the largest and most recognizable being Omega House.
Omega House was one of those places that somehow managed to do it all and do it well. They housed, fed, and educated omegas who escaped the worst of realities. When I first started working for my father, I’d tried to convince him that the firm should take some more pro bono cases for their residents as a way to give back. He assured me this stupid dinner was enough. It wasn’t, but at least it was something.
I stepped into the doorway, skipping the red carpet bologna, complete with flashing bulbs and enough ass kissing to make most want to vomit, but something the city’s elite seemed to eat up. Once inside I prepared for the inevitable confrontation with my parents in the most adult way possible; I headed for the bar.
The room was packed with men in suits designed to show off their wealth as much as flatter their asses, women wearing glued on fake eyelashes and even faker smiles, and wait staff yes sir-ing everyone to death as they plied them with liquor. From my estimation, I had a good half hour before dinner to get my drink on. The main dining room was still closed off so we could all ohh and ahh about how amazing it looked when they finally called us in.
“Beer please,” I asked the bartender when I finally caught his eye, pointing to the tap. I had no idea what was going to come out of it, but as long as something did, it didn’t matter.
“Ten dollars,” he said as he set my far-too-light looking beer down. I knew it was a fundraiser, but ouch, that was a lot of money for what was by all appearances crappy beer. I fished out my wallet, putting down a ten just as a hand passed in front of me, handing the bartender a twenty.
“Keep the change,” said the last voice I wanted to hear. Andrew. Of freaking course. In all my scheming I’d forgotten he had a ticket, my date or not. And from his actions, it appeared he was still thinking date. No one could even rationalize he was being generous for the cause either, since the extra money went straight into the bartender’s pocket.
“No thank you,” I replied, leaving the ten on the counter. I was so not in the mood. I turned and made it two steps out before his hand set on my shoulder.
“An omega should not have to pay for their own drinks. What kind of date do you have that would leave you along at an event such as this?” Creeper slipped his hand into my jacket pocket, presumably to return my ten.
I took a giant step back. As much as I was trying to not cause a scene, there was no hiding what I was doing—putting distance between us. I was not one to play coy on a good day, and especially not with someone who thought my personal space was his to evade.
“My date is none of your concern, but I would appreciate you respecting him enough to keep yourself at a respectable distance.” I shouldn’t be digging myself in any deeper than I already was with my nonexistent date, but fuck it. He was a creepy asshat.
Instead of backing away and politely disappearing into the crowd, Andrew took a step closer, closing the small space between us. “I will see you at dinner, where your seat is next to mine,” he said in my ear, and my body stiffened. What was wrong with him? There was no way I could stay through dinner now, not if he was taking such bold steps when he was very clearly denied.
“I’d prefer you didn’t get so close to my
date.” A stern, yet quiet voice came from behind me. A voice I’d recognize anywhere. Parker. Parker was claiming me as his. “You know how possessive I can be of things that are mine, Andrew.”
Holy. Cow. Did Parker just call me his?
17
Parker
The evening had started out extremely productive. Within minutes of entering the room and grabbing a glass of champagne, one of my old friends approached me, Ethan Mollick of LifeFuel. LifeFuel was relatively new. They’d been seeing success in the US market for a few years now, and had just moved into Canada, and they were ready to make the jump across the ocean and explore sales routes in the Asian markets. We didn’t get into any serious details, but it was the first time Ethan had reached out about expanding like I’d pushed them to. Before the night was over, I’d definitely be sending Ethan an email request for a deeper meeting.
After Ethan and I parted, I floated around, reconnecting with some of the people I’d met last year at the event or at other galas. As business focused as I was, this, sadly, was the closest I often got to socializing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call any of these people friends, but they were the closest thing I had to it. I was still on my first glass of champagne, holding on to it more for show than alcohol, when I saw Miles. I couldn’t blame it on dulled senses or wishful thinking. My eyes followed him. He’d made a beeline for the bar. If it hadn’t been for the way he’d reacted to the older man who came up behind him, I would have left him alone. At least, I think I would have. But when Andrew Martin put his hand on Miles and the omega stiffened in response, I marched toward them without a thought, not realizing I’d abandoned my conversation partner until I was halfway across the floor.
Reclaiming His Omega Page 5