Page 16

Beck

I pull out my phone, scrolling to the number I’d obtained on Friday night through channels I prefer not to examine too closely. I checked the text I’d sent.

We need to talk.

Three days it’s been, and her silence speaks volumes. She remembers me. Or did she know who I was all along?

The smart thing would be to let her run.

To pretend that night in Boston never happened, that the memory of her soft skin and broken sighs doesn’t haunt me at every quiet moment.

The smart thing would be to protect my family, my business, and my carefully constructed life from what I know is going to turn my life upside down.

But I’ve never been smart where beautiful Omegas are concerned.

“Sir?” Mr. Sampson appears in the doorway, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes sharp with curiosity. “Will you be needing the car this morning?”

“Actually, yes. But I’ll be driving myself.” I finish my coffee and stand, already plotting a plan that’s probably going to end in disaster. “Ask my assistant to cancel my ten o’clock when he turns up. Something’s come up.”

If Mr. Sampson finds my change in schedule unusual, he’s too well-trained to comment. “Of course, sir. I’ll have Mr. Harris rescheduled.”

“Tell him I’ll call him this afternoon.” I’m already moving toward the garage, my mind racing with possibilities and consequences. “And if anyone asks where I’ve gone, I’m handling a personal matter.”

The drive to Silvercrest College takes less than twenty minutes, but it feels like hours.

Every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to turn around, to leave this alone, to let sleeping dogs lie.

But the memory of Emmie’s face on Friday night—the recognition, the fear, the hurt—makes rational thought impossible.

She looked at me like I’d betrayed her, like the money I’d left was an insult rather than an attempt to help.

But what else was I supposed to do? Disappear without a trace and leave her with nothing?

After I park outside the administration building, I stride into the office and use my position on the board of trustees to gain access to student schedules.

“Are you sure Emmie Masters isn’t on the role?” I recheck. “Maybe Emmaline. Emily…”

“Sorry. There are three Masters on the roll. Jolie, Elena, and Harry.”

I walk out of the office and to my car, and make a call. This time, it takes the promise of a significant donation to get her class timetable, along with her current academic standing. But nobody can find her.

“Okay. Send me Jolie’s details.” The two sisters must have different surnames, but I’m sure they’ll meet up for lunch. And I’d like to know who has gotten Romeo so twisted.

“It’ll be a few minutes. Come to my office and I’ll print everything for you.”

After I receive the document I wanted, I take a seat in the staff room and read the details of my son’s scent match.

Jolie Masters. Excellent grades, perfect attendance until this week, enrolled in advanced sciences with a focus on biology and she also studies art. A student who flies under the radar not because she lacks ability, but because she’s trying to avoid attention.

Smart girl. Too bad she caught Romeo’s attention.

Jolie’s next class is art in the main campus building. Hoping to spot her with her sister, I position myself near the entrance, ignoring the curious looks from students who recognize me from various campus events.

Being on the board has its privileges, but it also makes anonymity impossible.

Luckily, Emmie arrives first at the building.

She’s walking with her head down, books clutched against her chest like armor.

She’s wearing jeans that hide her gorgeous curves, an oversized hoodie that swallows her frame.

She is nothing like the confident girl in a black dress.

Everything about her screams ‘invisible,’ but to me she might as well be lit up in neon.

“Emmie.”

She freezes at the sound of my voice, her entire body going rigid with tension. When she turns to face me, her amber eyes are blazing with an anger that takes me by surprise.

“It’s Jolie,” she says quietly, but there’s steel underneath the soft tone. “Jolie Masters.”

My heart stops beating when I realize there’s no sister. It’s Emmie who my son believes is his scent match.

My stomach drops to the floor.

“Right. Of course.” The words come out like I forgot. “Did you give me a false name?” I study her face, taking in the subtle changes since that night in Boston. She’s sadder, more guarded, but still heartbreakingly beautiful. “Did you know who I was?”

“No,” she gasps. “This isn’t about you.”

I believe her. No idea why. But I do. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” She glances around the busy courtyard, clearly conscious of the students streaming past us. “I think we said everything that needed to be said in Boston.”

“Did we? Because I seem to remember our conversation being cut rather short.”

Her cheeks flush with color, but her expression remains defiant. “Your choice, as I recall. You were the one who disappeared.”

“I had a flight to catch—“

“At four in the morning?” The words come out sharper than she probably intended, drawing attention from nearby students. She lowers her voice, but the hurt underneath is unmistakable. “Right. Of course. Very important business, I’m sure.”

I realize we’re drawing stares, that this conversation is exactly the kind of public scene that could destroy my reputation. “Not here. Get in the car.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please,” I add, softening my tone. “Just let me explain. You deserve that much.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse. Her amber eyes study my face with the kind of intensity that suggests she’s cataloging every micro-expression.

“Five minutes,” she says finally. “That’s all.”

My car is parked in a faculty spot that, technically, I’m not supposed to use, but board membership has its privileges.

Emmie—Jolie—slides into the passenger seat with obvious reluctance, keeping as much distance between us as the confined space allows.

The moment the doors close, the smell of the industrial-strength suppressants she’s using fills the car.

But I can detect traces of that impossible sweetness that haunted my dreams for weeks.

It’s weird, it’s something so unique it makes every possessive instinct I have roar to life.

Just as it had in that bar. When my feet walked toward a girl I knew was too young for me.

One night was all I thought I needed. Looking at her now and knowing how I haven’t slept properly since that night, I know I need so much more.

“Start talking,” she says, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“First, I want you to know that I had no idea you were coming here. No idea your mother was our new housekeeper. If I had known—“

“You would have what? Fired her before we arrived?” There’s bitter amusement in her voice. “Or maybe you would have arranged for a different kind of welcome party?”

The accusation hits like a slap. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Then what? Because from where I’m sitting, this looks like an incredibly convenient coincidence. The kind that happens when wealthy Alphas decide they want to add a particular Omega to their collection.”

“My collection?” The suggestion is so far from the truth, it’s almost laughable. “Emmie, I haven’t been with another Omega since that night. Haven’t even looked at another woman.”

She finally turns to meet my gaze, and I can see the war between want and mistrust playing out across her expressive features. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s the truth.” I resist the urge to reach for her, to touch her and prove through scent and contact what words apparently can’t convey. “That night in Boston...it wasn’t just casual sex for me. It was...”

“What? Meaningful? Special?” Her laugh is sharp with pain. “Special enough that you left money on the nightstand like I was some high-end escort you’d hired for the evening?”

The hurt in her voice cuts deeper than I expected. “The money wasn’t payment, Emmie. It was—“

“It was humiliating,” she interrupts, her composure finally cracking.

“I woke up thinking we’d shared something beautiful, something real.

I let you knot me. It was my first time and then you ruined something beautiful by leaving four hundred dollars and a business card for a spa, like you were taking care of some unfortunate problem. ”

I was her first Alpha.

“That’s not—“ I start, but she’s not finished.

“Do you have any idea what that felt like? To realize that the most incredible night of my life was just a transaction for you?”

“It wasn’t a transaction,” I hiss. “It was the opposite of that.”

“Then why did you leave? Why disappear without a word if it meant something to you?” The question hangs between us, loaded with weeks of hurt and confusion.

How do I explain I left because staying would have meant admitting I was already half in love with a stranger?

That the money was every cent I had in my wallet and was left there so she could have a massage and soothe away the aches I knew she would wake with?

That every instinct I had was screaming at me to claim her, mark her, make her mine in ways that would have terrified us both?

“Because I’m fifteen years older than you and powerful enough to destroy your life without trying,” I say finally. “Because you deserved better than being in someone’s midlife crisis. Because I thought the kind thing was to let you go before I did something we’d both regret.”

“And now?” Her voice is barely audible. “What’s changed?”

Everything, I want to say. Everything changed the moment I saw you from my study window, the moment I realized fate has dropped you directly into my world. Everything changed when I understood that walking away was just a coward’s way of postponing the inevitable.

“Now you’re here,” I say instead. “And running away isn’t an option for either of us.”

“Isn’t it?” She reaches for the door handle. “Watch me.”

“Emmie, wait.” This time I do reach for her, catching her wrist and wrapping my fingers around it.

The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I see her pupils dilate in response.

“Your mother’s job, your safety, your education—it’s all connected to my estate now. You can’t just disappear.”

“Are you threatening me?” But even as she asks, her body is responding to my touch, leaning slightly toward me despite her obvious anger.

“I’m stating facts.” I release her wrist, immediately missing the contact. “Like it or not, we’re going to have to figure out how to coexist. The question is whether we do it as enemies or...”

“Or what?”

“Or we continue what we started in Boston.” The suggestion hangs in the air between us, loaded with possibility and danger in equal measure. I can see the conflict in her eyes. I see her desire for me fighting against the hurt I’ve already caused.

“I’m not interested in being anyone’s secret,” she says finally. “I’ve had enough of Alphas who want to use me.”

“Who said anything about secrets?”

“You did. Just now. When you talked about coexistence and finishing what we started.” Her smile is sharp with pain. “I know what that means. It means you want all the benefits of having an Omega with none of the complications of actually committing to one.”

“That’s not—“

“Isn’t it?” She meets my gaze directly, and the hurt there makes my chest ache. “Because from where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what you’re offering. The same thing your son Romeo suggested. You’ve just given your offer with better manners and more expensive gifts.”

The mention of Romeo makes something cold and dangerous unfurl in my chest. “What did Romeo suggest?”

“Nothing I was interested in hearing.” She opens the car door, effectively ending our conversation. “Thanks for the ride down memory lane, Mr. Silver. But I think we’re done here.”

She’s gone before I can respond, leaving me alone in the car with her lingering scent and the growing certainty that I’ve just made everything infinitely more complicated.

Emmie is my son’s scent match, not mine, which means biology will win out in the end, despite what I want or Cerise demands.

So what I have to ask myself is, what am I willing to sacrifice to have her for myself?

Especially as Romeo has made it clear he doesn’t want her, and she doesn’t want him as far as I can make out.

Yet, for me, walking away isn’t an option anymore. For better or worse, Emmie Masters—or Jolie, or whoever she’s trying to be—is now part of my world. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone else hurt her the way I already have.