Page 14 of Omega's Formula

Sun gathers his papers, his expression carefully neutral in the way that suggests he’s thinking a great deal more than he’s saying. He says nothing.

I head for the door, desperate suddenly for air that doesn’t smell like him. “I’ll be in touch about next steps.”

Outside, the afternoon sun is too bright. I stand on the Bureau’s steps, breathing in deeply, pulling in air that doesn’t smell like West, trying to clear my head.

It doesn’t work. I can still feel him, like an itch under my skin. The pull toward him hasn’t faded now that we’re apart. If anything, it’s worse. Some primal part of my brain is screaming at me to go after him to bring him back where he belongs.

Where he belongs. As if I have any claim on him. My phone buzzes. Sara again.How did it go?

I type back:Weird. I’ll meet you in my office in half an hour. We need to strategize.

Weird. That’s one word for it. Disastrous. Terrifying. Earth-shattering. All of those would work too.

I get into my car and sit there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.

I pull the business card from my pocket and stare at the number scrawled on the back. My thumb hovers over my phone. No. I’m not calling him. That’s just going to make everything worse.

Instead, I save the number to my contacts, then send it to Sara. She can deal with him. If I’m lucky, I’ll never see him again. Bureau, be damned.

5. Nolan

“We’ve done our research,” the woman in front of me says. “We understand that your sister is genuinely ill. We are willing to negotiate a package that cares for her as long as you give up any rights to Mr. Nilsson’s assets.”

The lawyer is a pretty redhead with sharp eyes that miss nothing. She had my measure within ten seconds of me walking in. Or she thinks she did. Clearly, she’s playing the same stupid game that Nilsson was. She’s acting like I’m here to con him. It’s irritating as fuck.

But hey, I can play that game too. It turns out that the Bureau has even more power than Erik Nilsson. He’s got to marry me whether he likes it or not. Something about that is deeply satisfying. I like the fact that this is pissing Nilsson off. And it doesn’t hurt that it means I’ve got leverage.

I only registered so that I could get Ellie into the trial. I wasn’t expecting my alpha to actually pay for anything. If Erik Nilsson pays every one of her bills, that’s even better. It won’t even come close to touching what he owes me but I’ll take it.

“I have no interest in Mr. Nilsson’s assets,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Never did.”

Sara Ramirez—Head of Legal according to the nameplate on her desk—raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe, given the history.”

“Believe what you want. I registered to make sure Ellie gets the care she needs. That’s it.”

She studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. Let’s talk terms.”

The office is not what I expected from Nilsson’s legal department. Somehow, I imagined something old: carpets, paneling and legal books, but instead Nilsson Industries owns a tall glass tower in the center of the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the city, and I can see the bay in the distance, glittering in the afternoon sun. Everything is minimalist, clean and polished.

I shift in my chair, deeply uncomfortable.

This is Nilsson’s territory. His building, his company, his domain and some stupid, primal part of my brain won’t let me forget it. My skin prickles with awareness. I keep catching myself scanning the room like I’m expecting him to walk in at any moment.

He won’t. Sara made it clear when she called to set up this meeting that Erik preferred to handle the negotiations through intermediaries. Of course he did. God forbid he actually have to get his hands dirty paying me off.

The thing is, I should be relieved. The less I see of Erik Nilsson, the better. But there’s a part of me that’s disappointed.

He might think that the blood test match at the Bureau was somehow a scam but I know it isn’t. And that’s not just because I didn’t arrange it.

I knew it the second I scented him in that meeting room at the Bureau. Our chemistry is off the charts. It’s been almost a week since we met – the time it took for Nilsson’s crack legal team to work out that they can’t get him out of this – and every single night has been filled with sex dreams. I’ve been waking up panting and hard, my head filled with images of him under me, above me, in me.

I can still smell him, even though he’s nowhere near this office. His scent has imprinted on my brain, and now everything smells like him so that I don’t know if it’s a memory or the actual remnants of his presence in the air.

He’s a dishonest, deceitful, corporate scumbag, but my body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

“Mr. Nilsson has proposed a small civil ceremony,” Sara says, pulling up something on her tablet. “Scheduled for next Saturday at his penthouse. He insists on no publicity.”

“Fine by me.” I lean back in my chair, projecting a confidence I don’t entirely feel. “I don’t want anyone knowing I’m marrying the bastard either.”