Chapter 37: Defiance and Consequences

Amelia's POV

I stood there, frozen in Alexander's office, his words still ringing in my ears. My wolf was snarling inside me, bristling at his domineering tone. Despite the trembling in my legs and the instinctive urge to submit, I found myself rising from the chair instead of sitting back down as he'd commanded.

"I think this interview is over, Mr. Westbrook," I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice despite the storm raging inside me.

Alexander's eyes narrowed dangerously, and I could see the flash of disbelief cross his face. No one defied him—certainly not an Omega. His jaw tightened, and I watched as golden flecks began to dance in his blue eyes.

"Sit. Down. Omega." Each word was punctuated with Alpha authority that pressed against me like a physical force.

The pressure was immense. My wolf whined, urging submission, but something stronger—my pride, my dignity—pushed back. I took a step toward the door, then another. My legs shook with the effort of resisting his command, but I kept moving.

In a flash, Alexander was on his feet. He moved with predatory grace, circling his desk and positioning himself between me and the door before I could blink.

"Carlos told me something interesting," he said, his voice deceptively conversational despite the tension crackling between us. "Apparently, you think I'm an 'arrogant asshole.' Those were your exact words at the bar, weren't they?"

My heart stopped. Shit. Carlos had ratted me out. I swallowed hard but refused to lower my gaze.

Alexander stepped closer, invading my personal space. I could smell his scent—pine and winter frost—as he reached up and cupped my chin with his hand, tilting my face upward until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Let me make something perfectly clear," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Though you don't deserve me, you are still mine. No one else gets to have you. Is that understood?"

His thumb brushed across my lower lip, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I hated how my body responded to him, how my wolf preened under his touch despite my mind's rebellion.

The office door suddenly swung open. "Mr. Westbrook, I brought your—"

Seraphina stood frozen in the doorway, coffee cup in hand, her eyes widening at the intimate position she'd caught us in. Alexander's eyes immediately shifted from molten gold back to their usual icy blue as he dropped his hand from my face, but not quickly enough.

"I—I'm sorry," Seraphina stammered, her professional demeanor cracking for just a moment as hurt and jealousy flashed across her face. She quickly masked it with a practiced smile, setting the coffee on his desk. "Apologies for interrupting your interview. I have an urgent meeting to prepare for."

She retreated hastily, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

I seized the moment of distraction. With Alexander's attention momentarily diverted, I ducked around him and made a beeline for the door, abandoning my portfolio on his desk.

"Amelia Throne," his voice followed me, low and threatening, "you'll regret this decision."

I didn't look back. I burst through the door and raced down the hallway toward the elevators, jabbing the button repeatedly as if that would make it arrive faster. When the doors finally opened, I practically threw myself inside and pressed myself against the back wall, breathing hard.

Holy shit. Holy shit. What did I just do?

My heart hammered against my ribs as the elevator descended. My wolf was simultaneously terrified and exhilarated by our defiance. No Omega stood up to an Alpha like that—especially not one as powerful as Alexander Westbrook. I'd just committed career suicide, but the alternative—submitting to his control—seemed worse.

When the elevator doors opened at the lobby, I bolted across the marble floor and out onto the street, not slowing until I'd turned the corner. I stopped, hands on my knees, gulping down air.

"Way to go, Amelia," I muttered to myself. "You just managed to make things even worse with the most powerful Alpha."

The realization hit me hard. Not only had I failed to secure a job that could have helped with Mom's medical bills, but I'd also deepened the rift between Alexander and myself. Perfect.

---

"How did the interview go?" Mom asked when I walked through our front door two hours later. She was resting on the couch, looking better than she had in the morning, but still too pale.

"It was... interesting," I replied vaguely, dropping my bag and joining her. "I'm not sure if I'm the right fit for that position."

Mom studied my face with the kind of scrutiny only mothers seem capable of. "Did something happen? You seem upset."

"Just nervous energy," I lied, forcing a smile. "You know how interviews are."

We chatted about the differences between corporate America and academia, and I was grateful for the distraction. I helped her prepare a simple dinner, and afterward, I retreated to my room to search for more job opportunities online.

I was scrolling through listings when my phone buzzed with an email notification. The sender made me freeze: Westbrook Industries HR Department.

Delete it, my first instinct screamed. Whatever it contained—probably a formal rejection or worse, a warning to stay away—I didn't want to read it. But curiosity won out, and I clicked open the email with trembling fingers.

Dear Ms. Throne,

We are pleased to offer you the position of Executive Assistant Intern to the CEO at Westbrook Industries...

I blinked, reading the line three more times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

The email continued with details about salary (which was nearly double what I'd expected), benefits (including comprehensive health insurance that would cover Mom's treatments), and a start date of next Monday.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, staring at my phone in disbelief.

I paced my small bedroom, trying to make sense of it. After our confrontation, the last thing I expected was a job offer—especially one reporting directly to Alexander. What game was he playing?

Was this a genuine opportunity, or was it a trap? Working as his assistant would put me directly under his control, giving him daily access to me. The thought made me shudder.

But then I looked at the salary figure again. With this money, Mom's treatments wouldn't be a financial strain anymore. We could even start paying down some of our debts. And the health insurance alone was worth its weight in gold.

I sank onto my bed, conflicted. Taking this job meant dealing with Alexander every day—a man who had just made it clear he considered me his property while simultaneously rejecting me as his mate. The contradiction was maddening.

But turning it down meant struggling to find another position that paid half as well, while watching Mom worry about bills she thought I didn't know about.

"Damn it," I muttered, falling back onto my pillow.