Page 3 of Accidentally Forever

I blink, thrown for a second before my stomach tightens, anger sparking in my chest. “Sofie?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, but I don’t care. “You want Sofie to handle this? She barely weighs more than one of these frames, and you want her climbing ladders and moving shit worth more than my rent?” Whenever it comes to Sofie, I’m irrational—whether it’s protecting her, making sure she’s safe, or standing up for her when she can’t. My best friend, Camila, has laughed at me a time or two, mentioning that my connection with Sofie mirrors the way her Alphas are possessive over the Omega in that pack.

Xavier exhales through his nose, taking several seconds before he says anything. “You’re lucky to have a job, Violet. I brought you in here when you needed help, even after what happened at the last one. I’d start acting a little more grateful.”

“That wasn’t my fucking fault,” I mutter, Xavier throwing me another hard look. A few months ago, Camila’s ex had stormed into the art gallery we used to work at and damaged property. He ended up paying for it but we lost our jobs in the process because that boss had been a dick. Xavier is also a dick but instead of firing me, he just pushes the right buttons to piss me off.

He’s been doing it since the day I started working here, testing boundaries, seeing how far he can go before I break. And fuck, Iwantto break. I want to tear into him, tell him exactly what kind of reckless, arrogant piece of shit he is for evensuggestingSofie handle this, for pretending this whole place isn’t built on backroom deals and whispered transactions. But I can’t, not if I want to ensure that Sofie has a place to lay her head every night.

So, instead, I force my hands into my pockets, fingers curling into fists, my nails pressing hard enough against my palms that I wonder if I’ll leave marks. “Fine,” I grind out, keeping my voice even, keeping my temper just below the surface. “But I’m not pulling anything down I’ve already hung and if something happens to these paintings, that’s on you.”

Xavier smirks, already turning away. “It won’t.”

I watch him disappear down the hall, my jaw pulled tight as I swallow a frustrated growl. The silence he leaves behind is suffocating as my attention drags back to the covered portraits, that knot in my stomach twisting tighter. Sofie shouldn’t be anywhere near this. And for the first time, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t be either.

“This is bullshit,” I whisper to myself, gently dragging off one of the sheets and frowning at what’s unearthed. I don’t understand what I’m staring at—mostly because I know fuck all about art but also because I’m 99% sure I’ve seen this one before. Xavier made it a point to drill into my head that he deals in one of a kind paintings so having a duplicate doesn’t make any sense.

However, I’m not paid to care. I’m paid to obey. Glancing around, I look for a cart to wheel these out into the main lobby, hoping and praying I don’t damage a wall or knock something off a table in the process. Then again, one of the patrons might just think it’s part of the display.

The cart’s wheels squeak with every push, the uneven sound grating against the quiet as I stack the covered portraits, taking care even though my patience is already stretched thin. The frames are heavier than they need to be, overdesigned and bulky, the kind of gaudy shit rich people throw money at so they can call it culture. I used to want to study art but soon realized that I’m not cut out for this world. Everything that people think is beautiful and gorgeous… I just get confused.

Sofie finds beauty in everything and I love the way her little face lights up when she sees something she likes. But if I had the choice, my walls would remain bare. A frustrated huff leaves me as I struggle with the next painting, the fabric draped over it kicking up a cloud of dust that sends me into a coughing fit. I swear Xavier gives me certain jobs to punish me because there’s no reason for me to be doing this.

I was hired ascustomer service.

The only thing that is going to serve me in this moment is my stubbornness as I push the cart into the hall, silently cursing as one of the wheels sticks. I’m not even two steps into the lobby when there’s a quiet, familiar hum of disapproval.

"Those are heavier than the other ones. You’re not gonna be able to lift those by yourself," Sofie muses, leaning against the wall a few inches away, arms crossed, her weight shifted onto one hip.

I glance up at her, chuckling at how adorable her defiant expression is. “Baby, I don’t really have a choice. Xavier wants these up before the showing and he decided not to hire the usual guys.” I manage a shrug, pushing the cart forward a few more steps. My mind works through several different scenarios and how I’ll have to maneuver different ladders and stools in order to balance this shit correctly.

A sigh leaves her, soft and full of something that feels too much like concern. Her presence shifts closer, even though she doesn’t reach for me. Even with her scent muted by blockers, something about having her near eases a little of the tension curling at the base of my spine. But I hate that she’s worried.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just go back to the front desk, okay?”

The sharp edge to her scent has me sighing, knowing that my beautiful Omega is not going to let me do this alone. “No. I’m not going to sit over there and watch you struggle.” It’s times like this that I still catch the fierce woman she used to be as a Beta, when life wasn’t as confusing, when her biology wasn’t constantly muting her inhibitions.

“Fine, just be careful okay?” I pull the sheet back just enough to get a better grip on the first painting, fingers pressing against the edge of the canvas. The texture is off—something not quite right beneath my fingertips. I frown, shifting my hold, and when I move my hand away, the color smudges.

Shit. I jerk my hand back, expecting nothing, expecting maybe a bit of dust or old varnish coming loose. But—the paint smears.I freeze, watching as the colors blend in a way they shouldn’t.The surface is still damp, too fresh, too wrong for something that should’ve been dry long before it ever ended up in my hands.

"Is that supposed to do that?" Sofie asks, peering over my shoulder.

I wipe my fingers against my pants, shaking my head. "Not usually." My stomach tightens, a slow, uneasy curl of dread settling in the pit of my belly. I think there’s a reason Xavier didn’t hire the usual crew but I’m not going to dwell on it. "I don’t know enough about all this shit to make a fuss, though. Xavier already doesn’t like me much as it is, baby."

Sofie doesn’t respond right away. She’s still looking at the painting, brows pinched together, lips pressed into a thin line, like she’s trying to piece together something she doesn’t like. Whatever this is, whatever’s wrong with these paintings, it’s not something I can solve now.

"Let’s just get these hung up in thw empty spaces left," I say, brushing dust off her sleeve before nudging her gently with my hip, forcing a bit of lightness into my voice. "And after? I’ll make sure we swing by that ice cream shop you love so much."

The corners of her mouth twitch, like she wants to argue, like she knows I’m trying to distract her but alsoreallywants that ice cream.

"I’m getting two scoops," she mutters, finally stepping back.

A slow grin pulls at my lips. "Baby, I’ll get you three if it gets you to stop worrying about me."

Sofie lets out a delighted little squeal, the sound cutting through the quiet, stale air of the lobby. “Fourscoops,” she whispers and before I can react, she presses a quick, happy kiss to my cheek and immediately sets to work beside me. Her excitement is contagious and I love that the small things make her so fucking happy.

“Didn’t know hanging overpriced shit could make you this happy,” I tease, sliding my hands under the next portrait and carefully hoisting it onto the cart.

Sofie giggles, her fingers brushing mine as she helps position it. “It’s not that,” she says, sucking her lip between her teeth. “And it’s not just the ice cream, Vi. I don’t know how to explain it but just… you. Everything about you. I don’t even like when you disappear into the backrooms.” Her expression darkens a little bit before it’s like it never happened.

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