Page 39 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Twenty-Four

Morgan

“ I think it’s the most wonderful idea, but Jacobi’s always been so smart,” Papa chattered in my ear as I marched up the stairs to the second floor of the loft.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was in town? Then again, you don’t tell us much these days.

Didn’t even know you had a heat, let alone a boyfriend. ”

After confirming the TV room was empty, I strode down the walkway toward the guest suite.

“As soon as we hang up, send me their numbers, okay? Do it right away—so you won’t forget. All right, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, kicking open the guest room door.

My best friend, the backstabber, was reclining on the bed, eating spicy chips he’d pilfered from my nest, awaiting me with a triumphant smirk.

“Love you, Papa. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow. I’m so excited! Can’t wait to see you. All of you,” he said, just as my temper neared its boiling point. “Oh, I love Christmas.”

After hanging up, I dropped my phone on the dresser and turned on Jacobi. “ You .”

“How was I supposed to know you didn’t tell them about Cal?

” he asked, licking cheese dust off his fingers with feigned innocence.

“You never tell me anything anymore, either. And here I’d been so upset, almost bereft, at the thought of you muddling through your heat with half a dozen anonymous knots down at the designation center.

When lo and behold, you were being pampered and worshipped for days on end by five exquisite specimens—”

I walloped him with a throw pillow.

“A thank you lunch?” Ignoring his raised arms and protests of surrender, I continued to pelt him. “I wanted to ease Cal into meeting my family, hadn’t even begun to think about reintroducing Wyatt, and now— now —it’s a huge fucking mess, all because of you !”

Jacobi wrestled the pillow out of my grip and scurried away, panting hard while trying to fix his hair. Not that it helped. His curls were the only thing that had fewer scruples than he did.

“Chill out, would you? They live across the hall. You work with most of them. And they took amazing care of you after your seizure. All perfectly justifiable reasons for your parents to treat them to lunch.” With a final swipe of his hand through his hair, Jacobi swooned against the headboard with an evocative sigh.

“Throw in some delicious heat action, and—”

“You invaded my privacy!”

“Relax, Momo.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No one calls me Bee anymore.” He wrapped his arms around the throw pillow and pouted.

“Stay on topic. You sold me out.”

“No, I greased the wheels. If they disapprove of your pheromone stud, four other easy targets will be sitting right there. And maybe we’ll finally get to see Wyatt fold Ethan into a pretzel.”

“You told them about my heat!”

“Oh no,” he said in a sarcastic monotone.

“I reassured your parents their omega daughter has been doing omega things—the horror. Because skipping heats for three years is totally healthy and normal. Not concerning in the least. I mean, don’t we all have seizures and wind up passed out on basketball courts? ”

“It was an exam room,” I countered, despite knowing my argument was pathetic at best.

“Oh, I beg your pardon—I’ve never had the pleasure.” Jacobi threw the pillow in my direction, but I dodged it. “Tell me, was this exam room floor any softer than the one at the children’s hospital, you know, when you passed out from exhaustion and had to be hospitalized for a week?”

Clawing at my hair, I tilted my head back and counted to ten. “It wasn’t my fault this time.”

“Never said it was.” Jacobi softened, all sugar and sweetness now that I’d withdrawn my fangs.

“But I will go out on a limb and say you bounced back in record time, thanks to Cal and the new neighbors. Especially that very pretty beta. The sausage egg thing he made— delicious . Maybe even on par with Kelsey’s cooking. ”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Why not?” he grumbled. “The woman’s a traitor.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

My phone vibrated. It was a group message from Papa asking for the guys’ contact info. A message he’d sent to the rest of my parents, Jacobi—and Kelsey.

Doomed. I was doomed.

Resisting Papa and Jacobi’s omega whims was possible. Slim, but possible.

But Kelsey, organizer extraordinaire, secret-keeper, who knew exactly how much these men had done for me in the past month? I didn’t dare try to dissuade her. It was too risky. Pissing her off so soon after my recent health scare wasn’t a good idea.

Besides, she was probably already concocting an elaborate menu.

“I know that look,” Jacobi said, wearing a maniacal smile. “The mighty Morgan admits defeat.”

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” I said, dutifully replying with the guys’ phone numbers, then added a caveat of my own.

Alijah’s interested in oliebollen. Can you show him how to make them?

Papa and Kelsey replied with a variety of smiling emojis and a thumbs-up within a second of each other.

Good. One of the agreement stipulations for the piano had been met.

“Random question,” I asked, “how much is your piano worth?”

“Why?” Jacobi rolled off the side of the bed with an exaggerated groan. He looked in the mirror over the dresser and attempted to fix his hair.

“I’m buying it from Pack Redmond for Kelsey for Christmas.”

“Really?” Excited eyes met mine in the mirror.

“Yeah. Figure she can’t turn down a gift that big if I’ve already paid for it.”

“I feel like an idiot. Should have just given it to her.”

I shook my head. “She wouldn’t have accepted it.”

“Well, since I’m in a giving mood, how about I pay for the relocation and tuning? No need to thank me—wait, on second thought, you still owe me a debrief about your heat. And I’m craving a burrito.”

Raising a brow at him, I asked, “Is this you inviting me out to dinner?”

“No, we’re getting delivery and hunkering down in the library.” Slipping his arm through mine, Jacobi steered me toward the door. “Don’t even think about skimping on the details.”

***

Cal’s chuckle swept over me, momentarily erasing the seventy miles between us.

The dark wood and somber fabrics of his room at the Carling compound in Rosellen Cove were expensive yet strangely sterile. It was apparent he didn’t spend much time there.

Nothing like my cozy childhood bedroom, where I was currently decompressing in bed with a mug of hibiscus tea.

Christmas had been lovely but loud. And tomorrow would be even worse.

Kelsey and Papa had tag-teamed to ensure all of my so-called guys would be wined and dined within an inch of their life.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he teased. “We’ve all been properly socialized and housetrained.”

“But my family can be a lot—”

The ironic amusement in his gaze brought me up short.

“Right. And yours is a basket of puppies.” Mushing my pillow into a more comfortable shape, I asked, “What’s the latest with Roddy?”

“Chaz will announce his departure—not firing, mind you—on the afternoon of the thirty-first. He’s hoping the news will get buried by New Year’s.”

“Waiting so long seems risky. What if the shareholders go public first?”

Cal shrugged. “Then Chaz deserves it. Especially since he’s giving Heather the runaround. He won’t even appoint her as the interim VP.”

“Wow. That’s low.”

“Well, that’s Chaz for you. But enough about him.” Cal perched his round glasses on top of his sandy hair and leaned closer to the camera, staring at me with blatant expectation. “Don’t you have something to ask me?”

“Uh…” My mind was blank despite Cal asking variations of the same question for the past few days. I had nothing. “What are we going to do about the consulting offers?”

“Whatever you want. Now, try again.”

Rummaging through my fleeting memories, I ignored the besotted voice that kept calling me baby.

Ducked the world’s most kissable lips. Made a sharp U-turn at the first devilish moan and tamped down the mortifying suspicion that I’d forced a pair of cold, elegant hands to fondle my sweaty breasts.

Thus, I arrived at the only conclusion available to me—a shadowy point of no return.

I’d said something monumental to Cal, maybe even monumentally stupid, in the throes of my heat.

And I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t remember what it was.

“What time do you think you’ll be here tomorrow?” I asked quietly as I set my tea aside, hoping he’d take pity on me.

But Cal had no such inclinations. He just laughed—and reaffirmed that the five of them would arrive at noon sharp.

Emphasis on the sharp.

A few minutes after we hung up, the door to my room swung open. Rory came bounding in, holding my credit card, still wearing the flannel pajamas he’d been in all day, with an assortment of shiny bows stuck to his shirt and hair.

He dropped onto the bed and threw his arms around me.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, holding me tight. “Knew I was your favorite.”

“You ordered the printer you wanted?”

“Yup.” After a final squeeze, he let go and returned my card. “Having it delivered to your place, though. Don’t trust it’ll be safe at the dorm during break.”

“Okay—but it can’t live there.”

“Not even in Kelsey’s studio?” he asked.

I gave him a flat stare over the rims of my glasses.

“Fine, fine. Whatever you say, boss.” He paused, peering out into the hallway, then gave me a sly poke in the arm. “You’ve still got an open-door policy, right?”

“Unless it changed without my knowing in the past thirty seconds,” I said, setting my credit card on the nightstand beside my tea.

“Good. Because there’s someone else who wants to talk to you.”

Rory gave me another quick hug, which seemed more encouraging than thankful, rushing out as quickly as he’d come—narrowly avoiding a collision with Jenna, who was lingering outside my door.

It was the closest she’d come to approaching me in ten years.