Page 55 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)

I probably shouldn’t be rifling through my mental cookbook while I’m in a conflict resolution workshop, but the truth is, I aced this training back in college.

I was on my way to finishing my MBA at UChicago when the ass fell out of my small business, and I had to take an entry-level job at Safe Haven.

It doesn’t matter that I finished my degree at the top of all my classes, and won an internship with the prestigious Huntington Wealth Partners, I’m pretty much back to square one as far as my career goes.

Humbling, frustrating, and sometimes downright depressing, but like I told Kate, all part of the road that led me back to her.

I never planned to come back to New York after college, but where she goes, I go.

And it’s not like it will be a hardship to move to Lenox Hill, although I plan on contributing to the pack in any way I can.

Which is another reason I’m tossing up between a pasta all'amatriciana and a beef bourguignon, instead of memorizing the five core strategies for resolving conflict in the workplace.

I’m out the door as soon as we’re done, grabbing a cab while I chat to Janice about the contents of our pantry.

She provides meals on demand and oversees all the cleaning and maintenance staff who keep the house running.

Corbus doesn’t really like dealing with strangers in his home environment, so I’ve become the de facto contact for his domestic service, and Janice and I now chat daily.

As we cross the Brooklyn Bridge, she assures me I have all the ingredients for the bourguignon, including a case of Belgium beer I can substitute for the red wine in the recipe.

Kate was planning to only work a half-day at Sweet Eternity, but I still haven’t heard from her by the time we turn off FDR Drive.

I shoot her another text, but when I ask the cab driver to swing past Paragon, a quick knock at the salon door goes unanswered.

Maybe Dash came home earlier than expected and they’re resting up before tonight’s performance.

I’m tempted to flag down another cab, but now I’m here, I decide to head upstairs and see if I can catch a ride with our alphas.

I’m a little nervous as I check in at reception, asking if Bram has a couple of moments to see me.

The receptionist doesn’t look surprised that a complete stranger wants an impromptu meeting with their Head of Finance, and I’m directed straight up to the executive floor.

Instead of Bram, Corbus is waiting to greet me at the door to his office, and I feel a bit like a country squire scoring an audience with the king as he ushers me inside.

To my surprise, he kisses my cheek, although the way he skims my scent gland tells me he must be needing his scent mate fix. “That fancy perfume you gave us really seems to work,” I tell him. “I keep catching a whiff of Katie and then I realize it’s me.”

As he leads me over to a pair of armchairs, he gives me one of his micro smiles. It’s more a softening of the lines of his eyes than any twitch to his mouth, but I eat it up. It’s like being given the key to a secret code, and I immediately want to crack another one, just to see if I can.

When we’re settled in front of his floor-to-ceiling view, he hands me a whiskey, and I have to wonder if the brush of his fingers against mine is another example of his pack language.

Small gestures, but with extra special meaning.

“I studied you in college, you know,” I tell him as I take a sip of a single malt that dances on my tongue.

“You were a case study of exceptional intergenerational wealth growth. My professor said you broke the mold that inheritance and intelligent money management rarely go hand in hand.”

“Cocoons of privilege,” Corbus muses as he runs his fingers over the seam of his trousers.

“It’s no secret that money makes money, just as poverty is an almost inescapable cycle.

I’m very aware of my financial blessings, but I learned at a young age that a precious gem is just a stone.

There is no dollar amount I would ever put on our pack, Lachlan. ”

Damn, but he can be as intense as Bram when he wants to be.

I nod, but he has pinned me with his icy blues, and I hold his gaze, appreciating both the beauty and sincerity in his face. “Just to be clear, when I gave you that parfum , it was so I could scent you, as well. You’re as much a part of our pack as anyone, mijn liefje .”

I let the endearment sink into my skin, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “Even if you never bond with Katie?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze darting away to the view through the large window. “Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

“No. She cares about you guys, and she wants to be part of a pack. She’s just… cautious.”

There’s a flicker of relief in his eyes, his fingers going still on his knee. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m still very disappointed in the way I dealt with our bond, and would never forgive myself if I ruined our chances to court you both.”

I rub my jaw, a little surprised he’d declare his interest like that.

But I guess he’s already courting us, in his own way.

I mean, he’s let me move into his house, join in his omega’s heat, and rearrange his kitchen cabinets – how many emotionally-reserved billionaires would let you get away with that?

“I think she understands,“ I tell him, because it’s suddenly very important to me that he knows his efforts are appreciated. “Katie has always had a lot of compassion, and she’s never been one to hold a grudge.” If she was, she might have seen what a toxic parasite Lee was years ago, but that’s a wormhole I’m not going down again.

“And you? You’re happy with us, even though your life is in Chicago?”

I stare at him, trying to remember exactly what was so great about my hometown anyway.

Other than The Monsters of the Midway, of course.

“I’m happier than I’ve been in years. Maybe ever.

” I give a loose shrug, the scent of orange blossom on my skin just as potent as the whiskey on my tongue.

“I never thought I had a shot with Katie, and now there’s Dash, and you guys…

I’m pinching myself on the regular just to make sure this is real. ”

Another one of those heart-pinching smiles softens his eyes. “I’ve read your CV, Lachlan, and I think we should make some time to talk about your career plans, yes? If you are happy to put roots down here, I would very much like you to consider planting them in Paragon as well.”

I grin, because the college me who stared at Corbus Jannsen’s picture in my textbook and dreamed impossible dreams is doing cartwheels in his office right now. “That’d be great Corbus. I’d appreciate any advice you could give me.”

“I will put it in my diary.” He glances at his watch, a slight frown on his face. “I’m afraid we may have to drag Bram out of his team meeting.”

I sit up abruptly, surprised to see it’s close to six. When I check my cell for messages, there’s only one from Dash saying he napped at the theater, but wants to have dinner with us before tonight’s performance. “Have you heard from Katie this afternoon? I can’t get a hold of her.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen a flash of panic on his face. “Try her again, please.” He puts down his glass and hurries over to his desk, fiddling with his computer. “Anything?”

I shake my head. “It’s stopped going to voicemail. Maybe her battery is dead.”

“I have a program that might help.” The glance he shoots my way is uneasy. Just a glimmer through the flick of those eyelashes, but I’m learning to read him a little better. “Not to spy on her, you understand, but all the Janssen Jewels have trackers in them.”

I raise my brows, more impressed than disapproving. “You can ping her ring?”

He makes a humming sound that would probably be laughter if he wasn’t so worried. “Yes. It’s part of the insurance protocol that Bram insists on.”

He says insurance the same way I say ice bath, but I’m suddenly glad the other alpha is so paranoid. “Any hits?”

“Yes, from downstairs.” Relief loosens his shoulders, and he smooths down his tie; another self-soothing habit. “She’s in either the salon or the foyer. The locator can’t be more specific than that.”

I give a relieved huff, but his desk phone buzzes, and as he takes the call, I watch the panic bleed back into his eyes.

“A girl in the foyer said Kate came into her coffee shop at noon,” he tells me, cupping the mouthpiece.

“Kate gave her the ring and a strange message about Paragon and pastry chefs. She thinks the man she was with might have been threatening her, but they left together.”

What the fuck?

“She gave away her ring but left with him?” It’s pointless to repeat it, but the only scenario I can think of where she’d willingly do that makes my stomach pitch into my shoes.

“Yes, and Kate seemed upset about it. She may have been… coerced.” Corbus grips the edge of his desk, looking sick. I thought I wanted to see his mask shatter, but not like this. Not because of Katie. “She must have thought she was protecting the ring by giving it away.”

Which means the asshole with her was a recognized threat.

Someone she knew.

“Get Bram, mijn liefje, while I call security.”

I’m out of the room before I think to ask for directions, and I have to throw open a couple of doors before the scent of leather and ink rolls out to greet me.

As I barge into the boardroom, I’m not expecting the twenty-plus heads to swivel my way.

A quick glance around the imposing table tells me they’re all alphas, and all brimming with a confidence I haven’t felt in years.

“Excuse me, what are you…?”