Filed to story: Claimed by My Ex’s Alpha Brother
I forced a smile. “Great, thanks Etta. Please, call me Lina.”
Her smile reached her eyes this time, and I felt how essential it was going to be to make allies if I were going to survive working at Blackthorn in such close proximity to my enemy.
Because that’s what Stephen was, I reminded myself. The fact that he’d been invited to last night’s interrogation suggested he was deep in Magnus’s trust; for all I knew, he knew my mother was imprisoned. He was as much my enemy as his father was.
Beyond that, he had rejected me five years ago. If he hadn’t pushed me away back then, wouldn’t everything be different? If he had intervened with my arranged mate bond with Magnus in the first place, I wouldn’t be leading this double life, and my mother wouldn’t be a prisoner. And although I loved my daughter and being a mother, Stephen’s rejection and abandonment led to me being a solo parent.
Yes, Stephen has a lot to answer for.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed down this churning whirlpool of resentment deep into the pit of my stomach and pushed back the door to the office.
“Good morning, Lina,” Stephen said, his voice clipped but looking up at me.
“Stephen,” I said, trying to force a similarly brusque tone. I went to the glass desk on the other side of the room, willing my heart rate to stop its damned dancing. A hint of Stephen’s spicy cologne paired with his natural earthiness teased me, a potent reminder of the desires I needed to crush.
“Or would you prefer, Stepmother?” he said after a moment.
I willed myself not to react. “I think Lina’s fine,” I said, sitting down at my desk before catching his eyes. “For now.”
His lush green eyes hardened, and my gaze went to the files on my desk, focusing on what I was supposedly here for.
I opened the folder. “So, what are we working on?”
“Magnus wants a report on the Ashford deal by the end of the day. Familiarize yourself with the financials and distribution network,” he said, his eyes assessing me with that look I was growing familiar with-like I were a puzzle he’d crack.
“Of course.” I bristled at having to take orders from the man who had abandoned me all those years ago. But his scrutiny only fueled my resolve to play the part I’d committed to. “And the rest?” I asked, my tone crisp as I shifted my focus to the other files on my desk, trying to reduce the memory of how he’d spurned me to nothing more than a footnote on a ledger.
“Contain details of our investors for the various pharmaceuticals we manufacture. I’d like you to familiarize yourself with each one, as there’s an investment round coming up. You’ll have to learn fast,” he warned, “the funding round Magnus wants you to attend is in under a week.”
I nodded, my attention already turning to the reading assigned. Yet as Stephen’s spice and earthiness infiltrated my lungs, even here on the other side of the office, the past crept back in. Stephen’s rejection of me rang through my mind. His deep-seated betrayal echoed through the quiet, burrowing into my chest like thorns.
My fingers curled around the papers I was reading, scrunching the corners. I forced my grip to loosen. I had to be sharp to navigate this treacherous landscape. Emotion would only endanger my mission. I concentrated on Blackthorn’s deals, recalling every detail I had learned over the last few years. I was well-equipped to handle the numbers and strategies, and I had to rely on that knowledge despite the undercurrent of resentment flaring in Stephen’s presence.
When it got too much, I spent an inordinate amount of time at the printer, “grabbing files,” even though Etta offered to get them for me. I made small talk about the deals with Etta and the other employees who passed by. Annoyingly, the nearest photocopier was in the line of sight to our office, and every time I lingered there, I’d glance over only to find Stephen’s eyes on me.
The couple of times I managed to slip away without him-to the break room or to the bathroom-he just so happened to have the exact same need at the exact same moment. It was clear that Stephen’s shadowing was going to be very literal. By the end of the day, I hated that I clearly wasn’t going to get to take any scenic wanderings around the building by myself.
Days bled into one another, reading files, attending meetings, and working on presentations, all relentlessly with Stephen. Each interaction was a careful maneuver where we tried to gauge the other’s intention. I tried to keep a veneer of professionalism in place, but I could feel him constantly assessing me, waiting for me to slip up so that he could haul me before Magnus and reveal me as the enemy I was.
And always, at the back of my mind, the haunting thought of my mother’s captivity lingered-her safety hung in the balance of every interaction I had with Stephen. The weight of our shared secrets tightened around my chest, strangling any chance I had of letting my guard down.
One day, as we were working on ideas for the upcoming investor’s meeting, I piped up, “I think we should add Connor Hamilton to the investors coming.”
“Hamilton’s already got all his skin in Valace and Platel. He’s not going to be up for funding us,” Stephen replied from his side of the room.
I knew he was basically rolling his eyes by the note of impatience in his tone. Something I was mostly screened from, thanks to the leafy and tall plants I’d gotten for my desk. I had placed the leafy tall plants on my desk as a buffer, hoping they would screen me off from Stephen and reduce the resentment bubbling up every time I caught sight of him. They formed a living wall that helped me maintain some semblance of focus. Yet, even with the greenery encasing me, I couldn’t help but notice how the lush color of the leaves evoked the shade of Stephen’s eyes, sending a shot of frustration through me.
“Hamilton’s pulled out of Platel. The animal trials didn’t pass.” I informed Stephen.
“What’s your source?” Through my living wall, I caught his look of suspicion. Thanks to my shadow company, Platel was old news, but I had doubled down on finding a source I could share and came up with a small journal article on the drug trial that Platel hadn’t managed to hush up.
“I’ll forward you it.” I attached the article to an email.
Stephen’s suspicious look only deepened, and he shot up. “I need to stretch my legs, anyway.” In a moment, he was beside me, leaning over to read the article on my screen. “The high levels of cortisol encountered in the test subjects show the drug requires more testing before it can be approved for human trials.” I’d highlighted the scientist’s name, the lead on the trials currently running with our competitor.
“This is…brilliant,” Stephen said.
“Thanks-” I managed, disoriented by the compliment. His eyes continued to run over the line in the journal I’d highlighted, still engrossed in checking my findings. He leaned closer to read the article on my screen, his fingertips brushing against my forearm where I leaned on the desk. It was just a fleeting touch, yet it sent an electric current coursing through me.
I caught the subtle change in Stephen’s complexion, a flush creeping across his cheeks as he tried to maintain his composure. Just as quickly as it had happened, he withdrew his hand, but the warmth where our skin had connected lingered.
The next moment, Stephen’s lush green eyes fell on me, and the heat in his stare had my head spinning. But before I could dwell on the familiar pull between us, Etta, our assistant, stepped into the room. My stomach bottomed out as disappointment flooded me. My wolf whined, pacing within me, eager for the connection that was slipping away.
“I have the final details for Friday’s presentation,” she announced.
Stephen snapped out of the moment. “Thank you, Etta.” He took the papers before returning to his desk. His voice was lower, almost scratchy, and sent a shiver down my spine.
As he sat down, he said, “I’ll call Hamilton and invite him to the investor’s meeting.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. But I was still reeling from the look of desire in his eyes.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Then why do I feel so warm?
Stephen was looking at me through the wall of leaves. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine.” Why was my voice so husky? “I need a water,” I said, my tone clipped as I stood up. I turned my back on Stephen, forcing myself to walk with purpose toward the door. As I exited, I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the reality of my mission.
From the break room, through the glass wall, I watched Stephen reclining back in his chair, his handsome profile silhouetted against the afternoon light filtering in through the window, and my traitorous heart beat a frantic rhythm. Sipping my water, I reminded myself that I mustn’t let our past history distract me. Returning to work, I kept my focus razor-sharp and poured all of my effort into the upcoming investment presentation we had in two days.
A couple of evenings later, Stephen and I wrapped up our report in the conference room after a very successful meeting in which we’d secured all the investment we’d wanted.
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