Page 23 of The Faceless Omega

Brinley shuffled again closer to Lennox as Jerrod moved to retrieve his things, carefully keeping herself out of reach of the man with the odor as nauseating as his personality. This time, Jerrod snatched up only his phone and his fanny pack before stomping with an audible huff from the room.

He threw them a finger over his shoulder for good measure.

Lennox produced a packaged sanitary wipe from an interior pocket, wiped his hands, and dropped the items in the nearest waste basket. Then he faced the gawking room and spoke in a firm, projected voice, “There’s no need for this to become an altercation. Each of you has a unique severance package I am prepared to offer. It’s your choice to take it or leave empty-handed. Any other questions?”

A couple of people exchanged looks, someone shook their head, and one of the more ambitious of Brinley’s former colleagues took a single step forward. He’d never been overtly rude, or especially social, so she had no idea what he was about to say. “Mr. Mitchell,” he began, as if he were conducting an interview, “I would be willing to waive whatever offer is attached to my name in exchange for an exclusive interview. It’s been several years since you were known to be involved with anyone, I’m sure the world would love to hear that story.”

Something in Brinley’s chest clenched. What the hell had she been thinking? Their little publication may never have gained much notoriety, but at least half of them had been fairly serious in their goals. Lennox had basically paraded her in front of a group of hungry animals!

Lennox, of course, was unperturbed. “Interviews are not on the table today.”

His words had the reverse effect of reminding the rest of the room that they were, supposedly, in the business of catching headlines. For the next five or twenty minutes it seemed like the air itself vibrated with variously worded demands for the story of their meeting and any and all information on how serious their relationship really was. Or whether or not it was a relationship at all. She actually thought she might only have heard that half-insinuated comment from one voice, but it snagged in Brinley’s mind even as Lennox guided her out the door.

What are we?

Her feet moved as her mind whirled. She knew what he wanted them to be. The irrefutable proof of it still marked her skin. But she … wasn’t as sure. Mating bonds were a big deal. There were no take-backs on those. There was no un-bonding process, no spiritual divorce, nothing like that. It was an all-in, lifetime commitment type of thing. So a person had to be damn sure.

Yet he had chosen her. She didn’t understand.

No one ever chose her.

Compelled by an old pain, Brinley spun around instead of ducking into the waiting Rolls Royce and latched on to Lennox’s nearest sleeve. She didn’t really want to think about the expression she might be wearing, because if it at all reflected the way she felt, it was twisted and pained and utterly unpleasant. Shamefully desperate in a way she couldn’t describe. “You know, don’t you?”

Lennox frowned. “Know what, Brinley?”

“My past. My story.” She licked her lips. “You know I basically grew up in an orphanage, right? That I have no one. That I was tossed out of every foster home I got assigned to. You’ve done that research, right?” She didn’t know why it mattered, let alone why she absolutely had to have this conversation in the parking lot outside her former place of employment. Everything about the situation was wrong. But he did need to know. If he didn’t already, he needed to know what sort of woman he was suggesting tying himself to.

Sheneeded to know whether or not he’d known before he had shown up at her door.

His expression softened and Lennox closed the small distance between them, raising both hands to cup her face in his palms. “Of course I know,” he said, speaking quietly. “And if you choose to tell me about that time of your life, I’ll listen. But understand that where you grew up and how much money you did or did not have—none of that means shit to me, baby. I made my choice based on the woman in front of me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her breath faltered and Brinley managed only a weak smile. It was exactly the answer she should have expected, and yet hearing the words melted something in her chest.

Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me, sir.”

The bubble around them burst and Brinley remembered with a start where they were. How exposed they were. She fought not to duck behind Lennox’s larger frame as Lennox himself adjusted his hold on her and turned enough to face the man who had intruded on their moment.

His driver. “My apologies,” the driver said with an incline of his head. He followed with a small, but clearly deliberate, sideways angled sweep of his wrist that pointed his fingers outward toward the street. “I believe you’re being watched, sir.”

Brinley winced.Of course. People are probably still lingering.Even assuming the spy was one of her ex-colleagues, she curiously turned her head in the indicated direction. To the spy’s credit, she didn’t immediately see anything odd. No gawking reporters, no less-than-subtle paparazzo, not even an illegally parked car with a driver who cared only for the best shot.

Lennox grunted. “Start the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lennox reached around Brinley even as the driver scurried back to his seat and pulled open the door. With his lips at her ear, he murmured, “We’ll finish this conversation in private.”

Tingles danced their way down her spine and Brinley nodded before she could think better of it. She had no business agreeing to that, or anything else he offered. But the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to spend with him. The more she saw of him, the more she wanted to see. And the more she shared with him, the more she was forced to consider that whatever was between them was possibly greater than an impulsive, hormonally driven claim. The prospect of which was as exciting as it was petrifying.

****

Damn Matilda and her spy games. Lennox had finally blocked her number after her interruptive call the day before, and he had to assume she was physically stalking him now because she’d figured that out. He had no idea what had come over the woman. They’d been broken up for years, and they’d never been particularly affectionate in the first place. But she was sure behaving like a jealous, jilted lover.

He resolved to deal with that later, in a way that would least upset Brinley. Which probably meant lawyers and formal proceedings that would aggravate him and ruffle feathers between both his father and Matilda’s, but Lennox was hard-pressed to care about that friendship. It mattered a hell of a lot less than protecting the privacy, and assuring the safety, of his soon-to-be mate.

This time, Brinley let him take her home. She allowed him to show her the estate on which he lived, and he was glad to note that the more she took in, the more she seemed to relax. Whatever thoughts of her past she’d let in and in whatever they had begun to trouble her, she was fighting them off.

Of course he’d learned about the basics of her orphaned history during his initial search. Some of the details had come in while he’d been locked up with her and so he hadn’t read them over until later, but they wouldn’t have made a difference. And looking at the surely lonely, emotionally traumatic tragedy of her past spelled out on paper, Lennox had found himself feeling more like some type of invader than ever before. That wasn’t the sort of information a man should be learning about his partner without their consent. So, he’d set it all aside in a locked file and resolved to read no further, to wait until she was ready to open up to him about her past on her own terms. He knew enough, at least, to be comfortable accepting that his instinct hadn’t finally led him astray.

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