Lola & the Millionaires: Part Two
Page 21
He did, and it was the perfect possession. I sank into the sensation, let it rise up over my head, a welcoming version of drowning.
“I love you,” I breathed, although from the bright burst in my chest from him, he felt it before I said the words.
Wes’ fingers found mine on the mat as he rolled over and into me like a wave, and our hands locked together as we both shuddered and let the tide take us.
Twenty-One
Lola
“I love the idea, but why are you bringing it to me?” Maureen asked, arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked as she frowned up at me. “You have a direct line to management,” she added, eyeing my shoulder where Matthieu’s bite was peeking out of the collar of my dress.
“Because that’s not how pitching concept issues works here.” I raised an eyebrow in an answering challenge.
Maureen’s lips twitched.
The weekend was over, and despite Wes’ attempt to talk me into a ‘take my beta to work, and by work, I mean bed’ day, I’d returned to Designate in higher spirits than I left it. I was fucking bonded. To the boss’ boss’ boss. But that didn’t mean I wanted to turn to Matthieu or Cyrus over the breakfast table and hand them the idea. They wouldn’t have cared and probably would’ve snapped their fingers and made it happen, but I wanted to follow the usual route.
Maureen shrugged and leaned to the side to look around me at the others working at their desks. “Fine with me. But I’m not advocating you in an email to Cyrus, it’s a waste of my time. Go up to the office and tell his assistant you want to see him. Make your pitch, and then get back to work on our layouts,” Maureen said.
“Got it,” I said, leaving our department for the elevators.
I hadn’t been up to Cyrus’ office since he’d taken over, and I was surprised as I arrived to see his first change—curtains over the vast glass walls that looked into his office. I was also surprised by his choice of assistant.
“Can I help you?” The woman at the long narrow desk was older, with a heavy helping of silver in her short bob. She was petite, Asian, and wore a warm smile on her lips. Her outfit passed for the halls of Designate, but there was something distinctly…mom-ish about it, the floral button up and soft cardi brightly colored and modest. I liked her immediately.
“I’m here to see Cyrus about a pitch. Lola Barnes,” I said, moving to take one of the chairs.
“Is he expecting you?” she asked, and unlike most professional assistants, she managed to make the question sound welcoming.
“He’s not. Maureen in Beauty sent me up,” I said, resisting the urge to say I was a packmate.
The woman hummed and rose from the desk, peeking inside. “Cyrus, a Lola Barnes is here. Should I schedule—”
“Lola! Quit playing tricks on Ora and come in,” Cryus called, adding a murmur to Ora that made her eyes widen at me as she stood back and held the door open.
“I’m only here about Designate,” I said, rising from the chair and standing in the doorway.
Cyrus shrugged and waved me in, eyes rolling. “You still don’t need an appointment. Use the perks, sunshine.”
“Thank you,” I said to Ora. She gave me a bemused smile and let the door swing shut as Cyrus rose from behind his desk and crossed the room to me.
The room was still mostly the same, although the curtains over the glass walls made it feel closer, and Cyrus had added some color-blocked abstract art to the walls.
“Sit with me,” Cyrus said, taking my elbow and drawing me over to the sectional in the corner of the room, a low coffee table in front of it covered with open sketchbooks and the latest issues of Designate.
Cyrus sat closer to me than a business meeting really called for, stretching his arm across the back of the couch and letting our knees bump together. His smile was bright and warm, and I was starting to feel floaty from that bubbly bright scent of his.
“I’m here to pitch a concept issue,” I said, nudging his knees and trying to sit up straight.
“Done, accepted, let’s do it,” Cyrus said shrugging. “What do you want for lunch?”
“Cyrus!”
He grinned at me. “I’m teasing. Go on.”
“I want Designate to make a beta only issue,” I said, and I was actually relieved to see Cyrus’ brow fold instead of his immediate acceptance.
“Isn’t Designate very approachable to betas?” Cyrus asked.
“Of course but…” I hummed and let my eyes wander over the room while I thought of the right words. Maybe I did have an advantage with Cyrus, being able to relax in our conversation, but I didn’t mind in this case.
“Right, so if we do an article about self-care, it’s usually something along the lines of ‘How to Spoil Yourself Like An Omega,’” I said, and Cyrus nodded. “Which is good, but what I want is to celebrate betas as they are, not as an omega. And yes, I think the principles should be the same, but I’d like to be more mindful of our language. Quit asking betas to live up to the confidence of an alpha, or to treat themselves as an omega.”
Cyrus’ brow smoothed as he considered my words, head nodding slowly. “I see. That’s something we should consider more carefully in general.”
“Yes, but I want this to be more than that. I’d like to avoid talking about alphas or omegas period in this issue. Find powerful betas to interview, but not compare them to their alpha peers,” I said. “Also, I’ve been doing some research, and I’ve found online that there are communities forming around the concept of all beta packs, rejecting the idea that a pack has to include alphas or needs an omega to cement it together.”
“This is good. What about our fashion and beauty angle? Beta designers, companies?” Cyrus asked.
“Models,” I added. “And if you think we can swing it, I’d like to look at perfume companies that focus on enhancing beta biochemistry, instead of ones that try to replicate alpha or omega pheromones. It’d be great if we could have like, a centerfold of little samples.”
Cyrus whistled, his eyes widening. “Actually, that sounds like a major opportunity for the magazine to make productive advertising money. How long have you been brainstorming this?”
I blushed and ducked my head. “Umm…just a few days, actually. But I think it’s really good.”
“It is, it’s great. I’d have to look at our exact demographics, but at a guess, I’d say we’re eighty percent beta subscribers.”
I nodded. “We’re over fifty percent of the population, and we’re almost never represented without it being in relation to alphas or omegas.”
“You don’t like playing it safe when you get a new idea, do you, sunshine?” Cyrus asked, relaxing into the corner of the couch.
“You don’t think this is safe?”
“I think it’s going to make waves. But good ones,” Cyrus said with a dip of his head.
“It’s content that’s available, but not on a platform as wide as Designate,” I said with a shrug.
“Then I guess we better jump on it before someone else does. I’m sold. I’ll look at our schedule and push this as far forward as we can without risking the quality. There’s just one thing,” Cyrus said, eyes watching me without blinking. “I think you’re going to have to guest edit.”
My eyes grew wide. “Cyrus, I can’t—”
“It’s your concept.”
“Lots of people bring concepts and don’t get guest editor positions!”
“And I’m an alpha, so I can’t lead this issue if we’re doing it right,” Cyrus said. His knee nudged mine. “Do you really trust anyone else with this?”
I frowned. Not off the top of my head, but I didn’t know the staff of Designate that well. “There is…Kathleen Hughes, she’s chief editor on a beta pride lifestyle website. There’s not a lot there in the way of fashion and beauty, but she’d be good for the self-care and the professional content. I was thinking of her for an interview, but what if we asked her to be our guest editor?”
“Lola, you can do this!”
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I grimaced, “Not really though. I don’t know half of what you or any of the head editors at the magazine do about layouts. Not yet. But I would be happy to work with Kathleen, and have your eye on things.”
“Co-edits,” Cyrus mused. “That’s a good idea. It’ll keep my hands out of the mix more that way, you’re right. But I think you need to reconcile yourself to pushing out of the assistant beauty editor box soon. You’ve got the head for it, and you’d be good for the magazine.”
“Think of what people would say,” I whispered, wincing.
Cyrus shrugged. “Fuck ‘em. You know what they’ll say? 'No wonder that pack scooped her up at the first chance.'” Cyrus leaned forward, head tilting and lips sliding over mine in a surprising, intoxicating, although brief caress. “Sorry. I know this is a business meeting, but it seemed necessary.”
I blushed as Cyrus leaned away, my smile swelling despite my efforts to fight it. “Necessary. Right.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “On to family-related topics though, Matthieu has to stay late for a meeting. Any chance I could talk you into having dinner here with me while we wait for him?”
I blinked and frowned. “You don’t want to just take a car together without him?” Not that I wanted to leave Matthieu stuck at work without us, but wouldn’t Cyrus mind missing family dinner?
He scooted forward, our legs brushing together and rucking my skirt up by a few inches. Cyrus glanced down and then settled his hands over my bare skin before catching my eye again. “If I take you home after work, I can think of at least four people who will demand your attention the second we step through the door. But if we stay here, I’ll have you to myself. Up to you,” he said, his stare tangibly hot on my skin.
I didn’t know if it was the bonds tying me into the lovely tangle of the pack, or if it was just time to take the leap, but now the nerves buzzing through me were expectant instead of cautious.
“Dinner would be nice,” I said, electric arousal flashing at the brief clench of Cyrus’ fingers on my legs.
I made my excuses to skip going out for lunch with the others—with Indy out and about and Wes keeping a lid on the subject, I didn’t want to risk leaving the Stanmore—and settled for one of the ridiculously ritzy and convenient pop-ups in the cafeteria. I grabbed an open table and sat down with my bento box, munching on my teriyaki and taking notes on my phone for what to say to Kathleen Hughes in an email, when I picked up a thread of conversation from three women behind me.
“Isn’t that her?”
“Yeah. I can’t figure it out, she’s only a beta.”
“I heard it’s not just Segal. There’s photos of her all cozy with Rakim Oren, too.”
“Ohmigod, she is in for a rude awakening when that pack tosses her to the curb.”
I didn’t bother turning around to see who was speaking. I didn’t really want to find myself in an elevator at some point and know I was alone with someone who’d been that spiteful. There was a simpler solution. I took the elastic hairband off my wrist, lifting my newly rainbowed hair up into a careless messy bun.
Behind me, the three catty bitches took a collective breath as Wes’ fresh bite mark was revealed. I shifted, reaching for my drink and letting the left shoulder of my dress slide down.
“Are you—”
The voice was hushed as I reached up and soothed a finger over Matthieu’s bite, smiling to myself at his whispering call of curiosity and longing in the bond.
“That was well handled.”
I looked up from my food to find a visitor at my table. She was a few inches taller than me and slender, her black hair hanging like a sheet down her back and glowing red under the faux-natural lighting of the cafeteria. She was beautiful, features unusual and unspecific, eyes cat-like, lips a perfect full bow, and skin a pale fawn brown.
“I personally would’ve settled for a throat punch,” she added, helping herself to the chair across from me.
“Maybe if I were out at a bar,” I said, lips twitching.
The woman’s eyes widened, and I got the first whiff of rich spice and something sweetly chemical. And then there was the heaviness that surrounded her, a pulse of electricity that stirred the air. An alpha. She leaned back in the chair and eyed me as she took a deep slurp on a straw, drinking something from the current, vegan ‘milk’shake vendor we had in the building.
“Now that you’re locked down, do you even get to go to bars?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
I forced my expression not to change and remembered what Rake had said when I’d suggested that Baby’s pack might prevent her from a fun night. Like hell would any of his pack stop him. And they had let me go to the Howlers when I needed to.
“They’re not like that,” I said, smiling. “They might want to come with though, but not for a girls’ night.”
The alpha hummed and eyed me, the rattling suction at the bottom of her cup echoing between us. It occurred to me a little late that I was sitting at a table with an alpha I didn’t know. One who was rocking back on two legs of her chair, balanced perfectly in place as she stared me down. I wasn’t relaxed with her, but I didn’t want to run and cower either. At least she wasn’t an Odette, trying to push her alpha energy at me to make me edgy.
“So they’re golden, your pack?” she asked.
I frowned and tipped my head to the side in question. “They’re…mine. They’re my pack.” I shrugged. “They’re golden for me.”
The front legs of the chair landed on the floor, and the alpha made an amused sound, nodding at me. “Fair enough, Lola. See you ‘round.”
I gaped and blinked as she rose and turned away. Had I just passed some kind of test? And if so, who was giving it?
Ora was gone when the rest of the beauty department left for the day and I headed back up to Cyrus’ office.
“Come in,” Cyrus called as I rapped my knuckles on the door.
I stepped inside to find the lights off, the glow of the city lighting the room in a glitter of color. Thick, purple clouds hung above the skyscrapers, threatening us with a rainstorm for later.
“Lock the door behind you, sunshine,” Cyrus said from behind his desk. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m still here. It’s been non-stop questions since I got the position.”
It took me a moment to sort out the fancy sliding latch on the door, but it clicked shut and I turned back to admire Cyrus. His computer screen created an ethereal shine on his smooth skin, glinting off the glasses he was wearing.
“Hmm? You’re staring.”
“You’re nice to stare at,” I said. He’d raised the stakes by asking me to come here tonight, but I didn’t want to make him do all the work.
Cyrus grinned at me and raised his hand, crooking his finger. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought he was a magician because my pussy automatically clenched and pulled me forward at the gesture.
“I only got a taste earlier,” Cyrus said as I came to stand at his side.
His hands reached for my hips, drawing me in close, rubbing over my sides. I bent and braced my hands on his shoulders, catching a quick kiss on his lips before his glasses bumped against me.
“No, leave them,” Cyrus said as I reached to remove them. “I have an email to send, and I need them.”
He took my face in his hands next, turning my head to the side and slotting our lips together, his tongue plunging in on my gasp. I moaned as Cyrus conquered my mouth, my body nearly falling into his, knees wobbling at the force and hunger of his kiss.
“There,” Cyrus said, voice scratching. “Now turn around.”
I swallowed at the command. I was finding my footing with trust again, and Cyrus was the last of the alphas in my pack to get his share. I’d certainly let Wes take charge the night before. Things with Cyrus were different, edgier, and somehow left me feeling like it was a bigger risk. We weren’t in love, he wasn’t my protector, but we’d left our attraction on simmer for so long it was ready to boil over between us now.
“Oh, I like this,” he murmured, fingertip catching on a garter and snapping it against my skin gently. “Would you like to try something with me?”
My breath was heavy in my chest, and I nodded loosely, jumping as Cyrus’ hand slid up and pinched the underside of my ass.
“Yes,” I said.
“How do you feel about names, sunshine? Want me to stay Cyrus, or…”
“Boss,” I said, lips quirking.
Cyrus laughed, bright and noisy, cutting through our growing tension. It was a little silly even to say, but the nickname cut some of the tension in me, and it would be a constant reminder that I was with Cyrus, who was familiar and safe, even when he was thrilling. His hand just below my ass moved between my legs, and I adjusted my foot to open for him until he slapped the outside of my left thigh with his other hand, keeping them closed.
“How do you feel about pet?” Cyrus asked.
I blinked, surprised by the deep clench in my core at the name. I nodded and then corrected myself. “Yes please, Boss.”
“Ohhh, very good, Lola. I want you to sit right here on my lap while I work, pet,” Cyrus said, both of his hands squeezing around my left thigh, guiding me down in a wobble until I was seated on his right thigh, my legs slightly spread and my skirt hitched over his knee.
“Relax,” Cyrus said, and I had to force myself to let him take my weight. “Good. Lift your heels and find the bar underneath. Got it?”
“Yes, Boss,” I breathed, wanting to twist to look at him but not sure if I was allowed to. Instead, I focused on the deep red curtains that covered the glass walls.
I hooked my heels into the bar under the chair and gasped as Cyrus turned us back to the computer screen. His leg beneath me bounced, and I whimpered at the sudden friction of movement against my sex.
“Hands flat on the desk.” I slapped them down gratefully, and Cyrus chuckled. “Good, pet. Lean forward.” He bounced his leg again, and I sighed. “Farther forward.”