by Aiden Bates
“Yes, I've heard,” Tristan nodded. “To be frank, it was all over the news when you took your position.” Myrick refrained from wincing, but he nodded; he wasn't going to hold that against Tristan for watching the news. When he took the position of CEO some two years ago now, it had made headlines:'Omega to lead company—but to ruin?' He still remembered how bitter his breakfast tasted that morning. Still, it had been nothing but sensationalism—the company had been flourishing under his leadership for the last two years, and seeing the news outlets have to choke on their words had given him no small amount of satisfaction. “Though I want to stress that it won't be an issue with me were I to receive the position. I've been watching the stock market since before you became CEO, and our company's stock values haven't hit these heights in the last fifteen years.” He inclined his head. “Speaking candidly, the company has a more than capable captain at the helm, so as long as that stays true, that's all I'm concerned with.”
“Glad to hear it.” It was something of a relief, though he wanted to ask, 'Will there be issues of any other nature?' Anti-discrimination laws made to protect Alphas and Omegas both prohibited him from asking—he was going to have to trust that Tristan's past clean record would remain that way, were he to be chosen. That was going to be the difficult part, though with scant few questions, Myrick couldn't deny that Tristan was already leaving a much bigger impression than any of the other candidates they had interviewed thus far. “Moving on, I was hoping you could tell us more about why we should choose you over the other candidates.” Myrick folded his hands gently in his lap. “We have a great many that have applied—what will make you stand out?”
“You've likely already had the answer of 'my work ethic,' so I'll answer a little differently,” Tristan puffed up his chest. “I've been leading the marketing team since my promotion in that department. For three consecutive years we’ve created successful campaigns to increase our company's exposure and, by proxy, its profit margins and clientele.” He spoke confidently and clearly, and Myrick had to admit, knowing the marketing campaigns they had in the past few years, that was a rather impressive feat. “My work has been consistent and always executed after reading the market and coordinating with my team to maximize the effectiveness of our actions.” An impressive answer, and a better one than Myrick had been given by any of the other candidates for the position thus far, though he kept his features neutral, opting to not tip his hand just yet.
“That's a rather lofty achievement, Mister Chefant,” Isabelle spoke up, and though she maintained a neutral tone of voice, Myrick had worked alongside her long enough to know she was impressed, too.
“One that I'm rather proud of,” Tristan flashed a toothy grin. “The marketing team, as well as a few other teams in the company, had been severely wanting for strong leadership before we got someone capable at the helm.” His smirk was leveled at Myrick, and the Omega was suddenly very warm under the collar, unaccustomed to non-aggressive shows of attraction or pride being shown to him. “Whether I get this position or not, so long as it's you leading us, I'm confident we can still work together to ensure the company remains profitable.”
“Yes,” Myrick said slowly, taking a calming breath. “That is...well, that’s my hope as well.” He swallowed, his throat strangely dry. He vaguely regretted not getting that second cup of coffee, though some deep instinctual part of him knew the dryness in his throat had nothing to do with hydration. “You mentioned that you've been monitoring the stock market for some time now—has it been because you invest in it, or are there other reasons?”
“Both,” Tristan said, folding his hands in his lap with his fingers laced together. “I invest in our company, as well as a few other tech and medical companies whose products I use, though I've also monitored the market as it's responded to news or events that have been happening around those businesses, and following trends in the market.” He shrugged a shoulder. “It was a large part of why I applied to this specific company several years ago—this was one of the handful of companies that had consistent trends, with very few wildly varying swings in its trajectory.”
“So you were looking for something stable?”
“Something consistently stable, sir.” Tristan nodded. “For as long as this company's been around, to have its stocks leveled and profitable at the same time was a good sign—it meant the company was strong, but could still grow outside of a bubble.”
“That's...” Myrick couldn't even hide his surprise for Tristan's thoroughness. “That's an impressive amount of data that you've collected, Mister Chefant.”
“I like to have all the information I can before I make a choice.” He leveled a surprisingly serious expression to Myrick, one that was heavy with something he couldn't decipher, something that was making him feel things he didn't even fully understand. “When I make a choice, I commit to it knowing that I've made the best one available.”
“A good attitude to have,” Myrick rasped, unsure of why it was so warm in his office suddenly. What was Tristan looking at him that way for? What was he supposed to do with it?
“Is there anything on my resume that you’d like more information about, or that causes concern?” Tristan asked in a tone that told Myrick he already knew he was the best candidate. Myrick vaguely cursed the fact that Tristan was an Alpha and overwhelmingly confident by default.
“None at this time, unless Isabelle has something to add...?” He turned to her, knowing she was more clear-headed at the moment than he was, what with how warm he was suddenly feeling and how strangely...stirred he was over nothing.
“I've got nothing else.” Isabelle set her pen down—oh, she had been taking notes? He probably should have been doing that, too, he noted, flustered that he had somehow forgotten to take notes during an interview. “But thank you for your time—we have a few more interviews to conduct and we anticipate reaching a decision by the end of the week. I have no doubt you'll be hearing from us soon.” The three of them stood once more.
“I look forward to it,” Tristan flashed another of those dazzling smiles Myrick didn't know what to do with as he shook hands with Isabelle first, then turned his attention to Myrick. “And I look forward to continuing to work with the company in whatever capacity I can.” With a tip of his head, he collected his briefcase and strode out the door.
Suddenly Myrick felt his body temperature regulate again.
How odd.
“I think your vice president just walked out the door, Myrick.” Isabelle commented idly. Myrick opened his mouth in an effort to say something diplomatic, a 'perhaps' or something that didn't confirm what she said but, really, neither of them would be fooled.
“Probably.” He finally said, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. “Still, we should wait until the end of the week like we told him.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Isabelle agreed with a nod of her head. “Make him sweat just a little.”
“Something tells me it would take a lot more than that to make him sweat, honestly.” He shrugged a shoulder.
“What, because he's an Alpha?” Isabelle cocked her head.
“Because he strikes me as an overconfident overachiever.” He sighed. “But considering the position he's applying for, that's not necessarily a bad thing.”
“Even if he wasn't,” Isabelle noted, “his accomplishments in our marketing division, and the fact that he's used to having to market the company would make him a good fit for my position.” She handed Myrick her notes. “At least, a better fit than anyone else that we've interviewed, and you know it.”
“I do.” He sighed. “I won't pretend I don't have apprehensions about the fact that he's an Alpha–”
“They're not all beasts, you know.” Isabelle commented offhandedly.
He had to concede the point—he knew many Alphas and had worked alongside them for years. The few that had...acted up, however, did give him pause.
“I get why you're nervous,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “I d
o. But he's been with the company for years, worked alongside several different Omegas without incident, and has a clean record.”
“You're right,” he groaned, already preparing the offering email in his head and figuring out what he was going to say in it. “I just don't want you to resign.” He tried to not sound like he was whining, though he was astonishingly unsuccessful with it. She let out a laugh.
“I know, I know,” she patted his arm. “We'll still be friends, you know, and you can still come to me with any troubles you might have.” He nodded—she would potentially be the only one he would seek out for a one on one meeting, having grown to trust her counsel as he had. “But I'm still leaving. Not negotiable.”
“I can double your salary?” Myrick offered hopefully.
“Salary was never the issue, honey.” He groaned again as she made to leave.
“It was worth a try.” He sighed, and she laughed on her way out the door. He turned to look at his desk, his computer, and vaguely wondered if writing a draft of the letter now would be a good or bad thing.
He was going to have to get used to the idea of a new vice president, after all.
2
Holding Back
It took more effort to construct a formal business offer for the position of vice president than Myrick originally thought it would, though he did manage to hold off sending it until the end of the week. Every time he tried to find the words, all it did was remind him that Isabelle was leaving, and an Alpha was taking her place. He would no longer have the backing and understanding of a fellow Omega working as his second in command. The person he trusted most in the company, and the one that worked up the ladder with him, would be leaving and he just wound up feeling ill. Still, he persevered, and managed to formulate a cordial and professional, if distant, business offer for Tristan, hoping it at least sounded like he was looking forward to working with him.
He'd thought to send it early, if only to get it over with so he could mentally prepare himself for the idea of having a new vice president, but then he would peek his head into Isabelle's office, find her packing another box of her items, and he would suddenly be a jumble of nerves, and opted to wait on sending it until the end of the week as originally intended.
The offer was almost instantly formally accepted, and suddenly Tristan was moving his things into Isabelle's office—no, his new office.
Myrick felt slightly ill at the thought of having to call that room anything but Isabelle's, but managed to keep a professional face during the week, when Isabelle taught Tristan about what his schedule would normally look like, the ins and outs of his job, and ways to make both his and Myrick’s burdens lesser in small ways. Myrick gave himself a pat on the back at the end of the week that he’d kept himself held together even as Isabelle said her goodbyes to them, cradling the last box of her office’s things like someone told to clear their desk. The thought didn’t sit well, and he worried he was making her feel like she was being shoved out after all she had done to help him and the company. He made a mental note to thank her properly later as he and Tristan escorted her out to the parking garage.
“I've shown you the ropes, rookie,” she teased as she set the last of her things in her car and turned to face Tristan and Myrick. “Now you show Myrick what you've got.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Tristan gave her a mock salute. He must have read how hard this was getting for Myrick, if the way he stepped out of their space was any indicator as she faced her former CEO with a smile.
“You remember to breathe, all right? Keep in touch, or else.”
“Barely gone ten minutes and already you threaten me?” Myrick laughed and let himself be drawn into a friendly hug. She must have realized he was anxious, because she squeezed him extra tight, as if it was her last attempt at helping him hold himself together.
“I've been threatening you for years, mister.” She teased, walking around to the driver's side of her car. “Now I just get to do it as your friend.”
As she drove off, and he watched her car disappear, he found that the word 'friend' settled well in his chest, gentle and warm, and he was a little more okay with her leaving, off to live her life the way she wanted to. With a deep breath, he exhaled, and turned to his new vice president with a grin.
“You're going to have to make a statement for the public about your new position, you know.”
“Are the news outlets already queuing up to have a word with me, then?” Tristan laughed as they made their way back inside the building. “I feel like I should be flattered.” Myrick had to give credit where it was due—even in the face of stepping into a fairly large role, he seemed unphased, like this was just a normal Friday and nothing had changed for him. The Omega supposed very little had, at least in regard to handling the press and media; the Alpha had been in charge of the marketing team, after all.
“I never know what to feel about the press.” Myrick sighed. “I've released a statement of my own—a fairly innocuous, 'he's an asset to the company, and we're excited to have him step into this position, he’s the best fit for the job,' sort of statement, though I imagine they'll be wanting a little more from the source.”
“They always do.” Tristan snorted a chuckle. He hit the button to call the elevator from the lobby to send them back up to their floor, and they stood to wait. “Though thankfully this isn't my first rodeo with them—I'll have a statement emailed to you for your approval within the next fifteen minutes or so. I’m more than happy to give you that ‘little more of me’ that they’re no doubt looking for.”
“I,” Myrick nearly choked at the last comment, not prepared for such an offhand comment to sound so…stimulating. “That sounds like a plan.” He finally managed to say with a nod. The elevator let out a ringing ding to announce its arrival, and they stepped inside once the doors slid open. The openness of the hallway allowed him to breathe and get his head more focused on professional things, having suddenly felt strangely warm in the elevator. He wondered why.
“Thankfully, Isabelle timed her resignation well, and we're between major projects, so I can give you a more thorough rundown of expectations for upcoming projects. It'll provide you a little more time to settle in before we dive into the next project.”
The elevator stilled and let out another ding to signal it had arrived on their floor, and they stepped out once the doors allowed them to. There was a narrow hallway separating their offices, with each being on one end, and they parted ways with an amicable wave.
As Myrick let himself into his office and closed the door, he let out a shaky sigh and raked a hand through his hair. So it was official, then, he thought to himself as he made his way to his desk and took a seat. He officially had a new vice president, and that was the end of that. He had plenty of time to mentally prepare himself—Isabelle had warned him of her intention to resign months ago, though she agreed to stay and help him find a suitable replacement and teach them how the job worked. It was only now that she had left and there was someone else down the hall from him that he was forced to face it, and the reality settled very uncomfortably over his heart.
That it was a new vice president was cause enough for him to worry, but added to it was the fact that Tristan was an Alpha only made the fear gnawing at his gut harder to ignore. He had to remind himself that it was fine, he had his suppressants, there were security personnel and a panic room available to him at the press of a button, and he was in total control of his own safety. He was fine. It was a mantra he repeated to himself over and over again as he looked over finance reports and correspondence with some of his staff to busy himself until he got the email from Tristan with his statement.
When the email popped up in his inbox, he skimmed over it, and much like he expected it to be, it was a good bit of publicity, expressing thanks for the position and excitement for the future of the company. Understated but professional, though he expected no less from the former head of the marketing team. He replied that he approved of it, gave Tristan the al
l clear to send it to the news outlets that were asking for a statement, and went back to looking over the data available to him for expenses, where they could minimize their expenditures, and where they could potentially grow as a company.
As he began to wrap up the last of the reports, he heard a knock at his door, and set the paper he was looking at down on his desk. He straightened in his seat.
“Come in, Isa-” he cleared his throat. “...Come in.” He was clearly not as ready as he hoped to be to accept that Isabelle was gone. The door opened, and Tristan stepped inside carrying a stack of files. He was reading over the topmost one as he entered, and it made Myrick wonder what he was reading that was so engrossing.
“Sorry to bug you, sir, but I've been looking over some of the most recent reports from the last quarter. I think I've found a way to increase our profit margin in a few key areas.” He looked up from the file as he took a seat in front of the desk.
“Well, I'm always interested in saving money if we can save it smartly,” Myrick said conversationally as he leaned forward and rested his folded hands lightly on the top of the desk. “What have you got for me?” Tristan stopped in front of his desk and leaned down with the open file to show him what he'd found.
“Regarding expenditures that we could potentially save money on,” he pointed to a specific part of the file—a personnel report, Myrick realized as he looked over it. “Looking at some of the teams and how they’re structured, I noticed that there are some teams that are overstaffed, with more than a few of them having more workers on call than working a set schedule.”
“Right,” Myrick nodded. “A recent development—we had quite a few people coming back from surgeries or from maternity leave after we hired on more staff, and we hadn’t properly acclimated the schedule to account for it.”
“Looking at the teams working on distribution and human resources, among a few other teams,” Tristan flipped to a different page, “they are all significantly short-staffed for upcoming projects—considering how important some of these departments are, that could be a problem for us in the coming days. And while we have job postings up for positions on those teams,” he looked up pointedly at Myrick, “wouldn’t it benefit all involved if the on-call employees simply shifted to those teams in need of support?”
