“Okay, now that he’s made it nice and awkward,” Graham deadpanned. “Let’s get down to the real issue. If you can’t find any opportunities that work for you, start your own.”
“I can’t just start my own,” I argued, already feeling more alive. For some reason, the way Graham spoke so matter-of-factly, like the world was just that easy, brought out the fight in me. I wasn’t disrespectful about it, just a bit cynical. Who fucking wouldn’t be? I’d dedicated nearly a year of my life and way more hours than I should have to the mayor’s office and look where it had gotten me.
“Of course you can,” he said evenly. That was all he said as he poured a glass of wine for himself and came to the table. When his eyes finally settled on me, he sat back and studied me in tense silence for a few beats. I swore I didn’t know that someone could build sexual tension just by staring silently, but here we were. In the span of a few seconds, he’d reduced me to just another omega ready to preen under an alpha’s attention. It took everything in me to keep my neutral mask in place. “You did your own pitches for your former job, right? Start with a portfolio, figure out your freelance name, then set up the website. If you handle the images, Miles is great at organizing websites. I’ll gather what you need for the legal side of it if you choose to go this route.”
My mind spun with all the information he was throwing out there. It sounded so intimidating, but choosing my own jobs, working whatever hours I needed… That part sounded like heaven, especially as I eased into the next few weeks. From what I’d heard, morning sickness and fatigue would be hitting me hard soon.
“Breathe, Briar. One thing at a time,” Beckham said, scooting his chair around to my side. “Show me what you’ve got for a portfolio.”
It was nice to have a single task to focus on. I’d kept all of my work for my resume, so it was only a few clicks into a folder before my images popped up, compilations of marketing gimmicks, the mayoral campaign, and a few logos and designs I had done as samples, not for actual companies.
“This is good,” Beckham said, perking up even more as he clicked through them. Once the ball was rolling, Miles and Beckham were all in, asking questions and using what I had to create a professional page. It was impressive how well we worked together, especially since we were still practically strangers.
“We’ll take the next few days to research rates for projects, but your base is done,” Miles said proudly. When his gaze flickered to mine, he frowned. “And you need to go take a nap. You look exhausted.”
“It hit me all of the sudden,” I agreed, yawning around the words.
“That’s probably because you’re pregnant,” Beckham pointed out as he shooed me from the room. Without argument, I zombie walked to my room, barely reaching my bed before I fell asleep.
* * *
Wells
Graham’s wordskept replaying in my head until I was ready to slam my fist into the wall. Knowing it wouldn’t stop, I stalked out of my room, just managing to stop myself from slamming the door since it was well after eleven. Most of the apartment was asleep or winding down by now.
I took the elevator down to the floor beneath ours, each ticking second making my tension rise and my fists clench tighter.
‘She’s been through enough. Don’t make it worse.’
How the fuck would Graham know what she’d been through before coming to us? Yeah, it sucked that her family kicked her out, but was it really the end of the fucking world? No. If there was more to the story though…
But that underlying sadness she’d been carrying around for a few days must have been affecting us all. Everyone was somber, walking around like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hated the change.
The moment the elevator slid open, I stalked down the hall to the gym. I didn’t stop long enough to look around, my eyes homing in on the red punching bags. Stopping at the first, I cocked my fist back and swung. My hand made contact with a loud thud, my breath huffing out in a grunt. Over and over, I rained hits on the bag until my body was covered in a sheen of sweat, my mind and body calmed to a blissful state of numbness.
When my body started aching, muscles shaking and exhausted, I finally stepped away. I walked two laps to calm my racing heart before settling on a bench next to the clean towels, dabbing at my sweaty skin.
I’d been down here every night for a few days. I was pissed that they’d kicked Tallon out until Graham explained the situation, and now I was angry at Tallon for having his head too far up his own ass to handle this. The man was quick to accuse and slow to trust, and it continuously got him in trouble.
Letting out a groan of frustration, I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened up our text thread.
Wells: Where the fuck are you?
Tallon: I just got a hotel room for a few days. No big deal. I’ll be back eventually.
Wells: No. You’ll come back tomorrow.
Tallon: Like fuck I will. I’m not apologizing for not trusting a fucking stranger who managed to get herself into this situation.
Wells: You don’t know her story. Is this really about her?
Tallon: Fuck off. I don't’ need a therapist.
Wells: You really do, asshole.
Tallon: This isn’t about Maggie.
Wells: Good, because she’s gone, and you’re better off. You’ll have to get that through that thick fucking skull of yours if you want to move on and live your life.
Tallon:How shady is she?
Wells: Nice subject change. But she’s alright. Sad but tries to hide it. They helped her set up some kind of website for freelance work. She didn’t take the easy out and agree to work for Graham.
Tallon: All to drag you guys in. They’re manipulative like that.
Wells: And I’ve got the grumpy reputation…
Tallon: Well, I’m known for being a dick. You get used to it.