Page 3 of Give Me You
I wrap up the presentation as quickly as I can without rushing, answering the last few questions and making sure everyone has the information they need. When I finally close the folder and stand, I'm exhausted. My back aches, my head is pounding, and all I want to do is go upstairs and crawl into bed. But I still have to make sure tonight goes off without a hitch.
The meeting breaks up, investors standing and gathering their things. Most of them file out without saying much, but Charles lingers, waiting until the room is mostly empty before approaching me.
"Emilio," he says, his tone clipped. "A word."
I glance at Otto, who gives me a subtle nod. I follow Charles out into the hallway, my pulse quickening. I know this isn't going to be good.
Charles stops a few feet from the door, turning to face me. He's a tall Alpha, broad-shouldered and imposing, with the kind of presence that makes people instinctively defer to him. He's been one of the club's investors since my parents were alive, and he's never particularly liked me. He tolerated me when my parents were around, but now that they're gone, he doesn't bother hiding his disdain.
"I'm very uncomfortable with your lead," he states, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. "You should look into having Zaden take on more responsibilities."
I cross my arms, keeping my expression neutral even though anger is simmering just beneath the surface. "You mean give the company over to my brother who can't even follow simple directions? The brother who's been told to stay off the floor because he can't keep his hands off Omegas? You mean the verysame brother who refuses to respect my privacy? No, I won't be doing that."
Charles's jaw tightens. "Then I demand to meet this Alpha of yours. I see you, Emilio, and you were in every man's bed for months. Always going home with someone different. Maybe no one else cares, but it's a bad look."
I snort, the sound coming out harsher than I intend. "So it's okay for Alphas to do it, but not me? Did you also have this conversation with my brother? Because he's taking someone home all the time, too."
Charles clears his throat, his expression darkening. "One week, Emilio. You've got one week to produce this Alpha of yours. I'm convinced he doesn't exist. And when you show up empty-handed next week, I'm going to put a few things to a vote."
The threat hangs in the air between us, but I manage to smile, though it takes every ounce of willpower I have. "Thank you for your concern, truly, but it's not needed. Excuse me."
I turn and head down the hall before he can say anything else, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Otto falls into step beside me and I can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn't, which I’m grateful for. I don't think I can handle any more conversation right now.
I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have found another way to deflect, another way to buy myself time. But I panicked, and now I'm stuck in a lie I can't get out of. I don't have an Alpha. I don'twantan Alpha. The whole point of doing this on my own was to avoid tying myself to someone who would take everything from me. But now I'm going to lose it all anyway because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut.
We reach the end of the hallway, and I stop, leaning against the wall. My legs are shaking, and I press one hand to my stomach, trying to steady myself. The baby shifts slightly, a smallflutter that reminds me why I'm doing this in the first place. I'm not just fighting for the club anymore. I'm fighting for my baby's future, for the legacy my parents left behind.
Otto clears his throat softly. "You okay?"
"No," I say honestly. "I'm not." I straighten up, pushing off the wall. "I need to figure this out."
"What are you going to do?" Otto asks.
"I don't know yet," I admit. "But I'll think of something."
I have to. There's no other option. I'm not going to let Zaden take this club from me, and I'm not going to let Charles or any of the other investors dictate how I live my life. I'll figure something out. I always do.
And yet, this time, I might have just dug my own grave.
Emilio
I move into the main floor of the club, and immediately am surrounded by noise and bodies and energy. People call out hellos and heys, hands clasping my shoulders as I pass. I've always loved the attention. It's one of the things that makes being an Omega worth it, the way people gravitate toward me, the way they want to be near me. Omegas preen under it all, and I'm no exception. I smile and nod, exchanging quick greetings as I weave through the crowd.
But then someone accidentally brushes against my stomach, and I frown. The touch makes my skin crawl. I step back, putting distance between myself and the person who touched me, not that they even noticed. They're already moving on, lost in the music and the lights. But I notice. I notice the way my whole body tensed up, the way I wanted to snap at them for getting too close.
I push forward, trying to shake it off, but it happens again. Someone bumps into me, their hand grazing my side, and I have to bite back a snarl. My heart races a little faster, anxiety creeping up my spine. I don't like this. I don't like how wrong it all suddenly feels, how every touch makes me want to pull away and find somewhere quiet to hide.
Some part of me wants to run back upstairs and curl up in my nest to block out all of the chaos–the very same chaos I’ve found excitement in.
Blowing out a deep breath, I refocus on my destination, finding Otto a few steps ahead of me near the VIP section. When I finally reach him, he stares at me with that curious expression of his, a bit of concern lingering in his eyes but I wave him off before he can say anything. I don't want to make a big deal of it. It's fine. I'm fine. But even as I think it, I know it's a lie.
The doctor warned me about this. She said that as the pregnancy progressed, I might not want to be around people as much. That I wouldn't want the touch, that some part of me biologically would need an Alpha's touch instead. A caress, something softer and more specific than the casual contact of strangers. I grimace at the memory of her words, at the way she said it like it was inevitable. Like I didn't have a choice in the matter.
I hate that she’s right.
I walk up the steps to the VIP section, and one of the security guards undoes the barrier to let me through. The musicis slightly quieter up here, which, thank fuck for that. There are plush couches and low tables, bottles of expensive liquor lined up on shelves that glow with soft blue light. It's exclusive, intimate, and exactly where I need to be right now.
I scan the room, looking for any issues, my eyes landing on one of the tables near the back. There's a familiar face sprawled out on the couch, legs stretched out like he owns the place.Liam Stark.He's leaning back with one arm draped over the back of the couch, his expression relaxed in a way that makes my heart flutter.
