Page 17 of Pack Choice
I could so easily turn that bitter tongue of hers sweet.
All I’d need to do is–
The intercom on my desk blares and I jolt out of my X-rated daydream.
“Mr. Turner?”
It’s her. I find myself leaning towards the intercom. She has one of those flirtatious voices, convincing you any moment now she’s going to say or do something a little bit naughty.
I clear my throat.
“Yes.”
“I just wanted to remind you that you have a meeting in the boardroom that started two minutes ago.”
Damn. Is that right? I flick up my calendar.
“Yeah, I know, I’m on my way,” I say, spotting she’s correct.
Grabbing my jacket from the back of my door, I stride through the open-plan office, not letting my eyes linger on my new assistant who sits perched at her desk.
I’m already a workaholic. Now I’m going to find it even harder to drag myself away from my office and take myself home.
I search for the muscle man. He’s slumped on a chair behind her, reading a trade magazine. But it lowers, and he watches me over the top of the pages as I stroll towards the boardroom.
Waiting for me in the boardroom is Mrs. Monroe, an old client of my uncle’s who I’ve inherited.
She’s in her late fifties dressed in tailored slacks and a blouse, the neck buttoned low to show off her full cleavage. A large pair of sunglasses rest on the table in front of her as well as two cellphones and the keys to whichever sports car she’s driving today.
Mrs. Monroe belongs to one of the old wealthy packs, who back in the day ran this city. Now their omega has secured all of her alphas inside retirement homes while she and her three daughters spend their money. Of course, she doesn’t want anyone to know that’s how things are. Which is why she’s hired us. We manage her image. We … manipulate the truth.
To the outside world Mrs. Monroe is a tireless fundraiser for dementia charities and a dedicated caregiver to her five ailing mates. That’s because I’m very good at my job.
“Colten,” she squeals when I enter the room, her strong floral scent, amplified with perfume, hits me square in the sinuses.
“Deborah,” I say, allowing her to clutch my hands and pull me down towards her. She plants a wet kiss on my cheek and unsubtly takes a gulp of my scent.
I hold my breath and, when it’s polite, pull away, taking a seat at the other side of the table.
Her account director and the rest of the team managing her profile are already seated, but Mrs. Monroe always insists on seeing me. Interestingly, I gather she never had the need to see the CEO when Mack was in charge.
“Looking beautiful as always.” She beams, patting the expensive wig perched on her head. “So sorry I’m late. Brad,” I turn to the account director, “catch me up.”
Brad tries to look interested in the notes he has in front of him. This isn’t his favorite account. None of my employees love this kind of work. It’s dull, pandering to rich people who think the public are as interested in their tiresome lives as they are. My employees would rather be working on the creative stuff with up-and-coming talented people.
They never seem to appreciate that clients like Mrs. Monroe keep business booming and pay their wages.
“Latest consumer data shows that the Monroe family has a 67% favorability rating among the public. Up two percentage points on last month. We also managed to squash that exposé the journalist from theTruthwas threatening to write.”
Mrs. Monroe nods her head, gaze fixed on me. “And my niece Melody.”
The one bonded to a pack who landed themselves in jail for corruption and kidnap.
“We’re continuing to make it clear that you and your daughters have never been close.”
“Good.” Mrs. Monroe smiles, flashing a row of such perfect teeth, I’m sure they must be dentures. “I think we could be doing more though. Cassidy is so keen for this to be the year she finally picks her pack. We need to up her profile. Show the world what a catch she truly is. Perhaps you could get her invited ontoPamillaor theChat Chat Show.”
“Excellent idea,” I say, with a smile, knowing full well neither of those shows are going to want some spoiled rich omega as a guest. “Brad will look into it.”
