Page 14 of No Strings Attached
Warren hums as he gestures for me to drink up. “You’re not the same guy who was out there on the dirt road. Punching an Alpha has to take some balls.”
I sip a little more, having to bite back a grunt when Warren waves his hand for me to finish the glass. I do, only because I don’t want an altercation with a man who’s larger than I am. And as an Alpha, he could pin me in five seconds flat without even putting up a fight because of my fucking Omega biology.
Even if I don’t want it, the weakest of Alphas can still force me to submit.
Realizing I haven’t answered Warren, I set my glass in the cup holder and meet his gaze. “Tristan taped my fucking hand to the bar. I’ll admit my reaction was out of fear, but I’m not sorry. He always pushes the lines.”
Warren laughs again, reaching for the champagne bottle to fill up my glass. “Tristan is a bit out there,” he purrs, his voice dripping with amusement. “I plan on reining him in. I don’t want him hurting the merchandise, if you know what I mean.”
The wordmerchandisehits like a slap, and I down the second glass of my champagne in one gulp when it’s offered to me, the burn doing nothing to ease the knot in my chest. Warren holds out the bottle, pouring more before I can refuse.
“It’s a shame he’s kept you so locked up on those god-awful trails. We really do need to get you more into modeling. You’re way too beautiful to be out there.”
That’s partly what I have been afraid of. The moment people figure out I’m an Omega is the moment they want to control me, push me toward their agenda,softenmy image and my adventurous spirit. I’m suddenly too precious to put out on the trails which is bullshit. I didn’t tell Warren about my designation but if he truly did buy Tristan out, it’s written all over my contract.
He reaches across the seats and squeezes my thigh, his fingers digging into my suit pants. My entire body tenses before I jerk away, trying not to hiss at the thought of this man’s hands on me. I press tighter against the door as I harden my expression, hoping that whatever Warren wants out of this ‘social call’ isn’tthat.
Warren chuckles as he gestures toward my champagne again. “We’ll get you there,” he says, the man seemingly savoring mydiscomfort. “Don’t you worry. Just follow the rules, and you’ll do just fine, Mr. Woods.”
The rest of the ride is in silence after downing the last glass and keeping my gaze focused on the diminishing treeline into the city. A slight buzz joins me from the alcohol—not enough to be drunk but enough to know that I am not completely in control of my body. If Warren were to try something again and push his Alpha bark into it, I might have a more difficult time trying to resist.
When we reach the gala, I start pulling at the door handle, only to find it locked. Warren slides out with ease from his side and then offers his hand. He’s manufactured all of this. Some part of me thought that working for or with Hart Entertainment might be better than with Tristan but I’m beginning to see that I just traded one devil for another.
“Come on, Mr. Woods.”
The respect I should feel with Warren calling me by my last name isn’t there. I slide across the leather seat and step outside, my back immediately pressed against the side of the car, Warren inches away from me.
“Stay still,”he commands, my entire body locking up as he reaches to adjust my tie. His pace is deliberately slow, his touch lingering much longer than it needs to. His fingers graze the edge of my collar, his gaze dipping down to the mark Olivia gave me. His eyes darken a moment before he just chuckles, patting my chest when he’s done. “Be a good boy for me in there. Show off your new company and maybe grab a brand deal or two.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight, my hands itching to push him away. My resolve is stronger than his command, not to mention the panic trying to claw its way out of my chest, growing with every second. I don’t get very far, though, Warren slapping my ass when I turn to leave.
“Why the fuck are you—”
He cuts me off and grabs my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. “I know how Tristan runs his ship. He’s an ass at it, but he gets results. On my ship, though, there’s no room for you to second-guess me. If it had been me taping you to that bike, you had better ride it or die. There would be no other option.” His thumb runs along my beard, his tongue darting out to line his lips. For a full second, I think he might kiss me but then he just releases me like nothing happened. “Remember that Tristan no longer owns you.Ido. And for that reason, it would be best if you behave in there. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to try that commercial again, and you’re going to make it work.”
“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” I push out.
Warren pats my cheek before stepping in closer, his lips grazing my cheek and then my ear. “That’s when you ask, pretty boy. Now let’s get you in that gala to make some money, hmm?”
Elias
I’ve been at the gala for barely twenty minutes and it’s already suffocating me. The ballroom’s a whirlwind of glittering chandeliers, clinking glasses, and forced laughter, the air thick with perfume and ambition. The scents are particularly cloying tonight, something that never truly used to bother me and I can’t stop rubbing at my gland, like the scent blocker is offending me.
The pain in my hands is starting to resurface and the places where Warren touched me burns like hell. I keep rubbing at those spots too, my jaw, my ear, my hands but it just seems to get worse—some kind of rum scent that strengthens with every moment.
It smells all wrong but without making a scene, I can’t get it to go away.
Tristan has been all but parading me around the venue, Nander making a short appearance before finding a sweet little Omega to terrorize. I finally can pull myself away and make a beeline to the entrance when Rhett stops me.
“Hey, Elias. We haven’t caught up in a while but I wanted to check in. What is going on?” He searches my expression carefully, obviously trying to pick apart the walls I keep putting up.
I force a smile, the one I’ve perfected for the cameras. “I’m fine,” I say, but the lie is barely convincing.
Rhett sighs and just pats my arm. “Take care of yourself. You’re looking a little rough around the edges. I know how Tristan runs his ship but that doesn’t mean you have to give into everything he says.”
Rhett doesn’t understand my predicament and I’m not going to sit here and explain that I fucked up when I signed that contract. So, I just let him go, once again rubbing at my jaw where Warren touched me. My stomach churns as the ghost of his touch flits through my body. It’s like he’s crawled under my skin, and I can’t get him out.
I refocus my efforts on leaving the goddamn gala when I see Jamie just across the floor, his mouth stuffed with a mini sandwich. He’s dancing in place, a wild smile on his lips, the Alpha in his own little world as Olivia leans on the wall beside him. He spots me, that smile growing wider as he waves at me, another sandwich held in his hand.
