Chapter 8: The alpha is in heat(part III)

***James***

I felt my lip curl upward as I tried to imagine the scene. I would give her a small advantage, only to watch her turn into prey as she ran away from me. Then I would chase her and as soon as she caught him... The erection pulsed again, reminding me of how I was perpetually walking a knife's edge.

— Not even raping her will tie her to you. - he continued seriously, once again feeling my thoughts. — Also because you would probably let her die before she even reached orgasm.

My smile disappeared. Dimitri's words were so full of logic that they irritated me. - What do you propose? You've been among humans much longer than I have, you know their thoughts, what they want. What does that damn little girl want?

— If you want to tie her to you you have to go step by step. Learn to make yourself known, teach her to be close to you, get her used to his presence. All of this is something that women like.

— Were the flowers then useless nonsense?

— I remember that you are her boss.

— All the more reason to feel flattered, don’t you think?

— Not in the human world. - he replied obviously.

I moved around the room, thoughtful. With each step the glass crunched under the soles of the combat boots. — I could do a promotional campaign and hire you as an assistant.

— Yes, that would allow you two to spend some time together. - he approved. — It could be a solution.

— And above all, it would distract her from that son of a bitch's attentions.

Dimitri frowned. - Who are you talking about?

— That Connor.

— Connor isn't interested in her at all. - he dismissed, shrugging his shoulders.

—And does that seem like a good enough reason to stop wishing him dead?

— Three civilians would be killed by your hands in less than 24 hours. - He pursed his lips, unconvinced. — I would avoid that at the moment.

I started laughing, throwing my head back. — You read the newspapers, then!

— Yes. - He looked at me. - I read. And his little girl read it too.

— That will never connect me to them. - I took what was left of the door frame and dismantled it, throwing it on a piece of furniture with the foot broken in two. — And then those two were devouring her with their eyes. Their lives have become sterile.

Holy shit, these guys pissed me off. Now I could understand that Brooke was beautiful, and if something was beautiful, it was beautiful and that was it. Normal that someone could turn around to watch her. But there was a limit to everything, Christ!

— Let it be cleaned. - I ordered as I passed him, giving him a playful push to push him away.

- Where are you going?

I looked at him knowingly, raising an eyebrow. — Finding a suitable client for a new advertising campaign.

"You're the graphics director, why do I have to go there?"

"Because Mr. Farrow specifically asked you to collaborate with him. Come on, come on!" He sat down satisfied, patting me hard on the shoulder and blowing me a flying kiss. "I smell a promotion, my girl."

I ran to save before doing any damage and cast the press.

"And remember to call the model." he added hastily before one of my colleagues joined him looking for advice for a Black Friday billboard.

Finally I opened the folder and was surprised to see a photograph of a thin girl, with hollow cheeks and hair of an unimaginable color.

“Connor!” I protested. "This one has blue hair!"

"It means we're going to dye them for her. Call her!" he dismissed me and went back to talking to my colleague.

The printer gave its last whirr and I went to get the printed sheets. I divided them into four sections and placed them in the same folder where Connor had placed the stunted model's portfolio.

Suddenly, inexplicably, I broke out in a cold sweat. There was nothing wrong with Mr. Farrow, and despite my poor impression a few days earlier, he proved to be understanding and was not at all bothered by my words. In your position I would certainly feel offended and indignant if one of my employees had shown me little consideration, but he seemed to have given no importance to my words.

On the contrary! He even gave me what appeared to be, in all respects, a promotion.

Despite that, there was something about him that always made me nervous. This intimidated me and made me embarrassed, which had never happened before. The way he looked at me was like that of a predator. He studied my every movement with an attention bordering on the morbid, the muscles of his face petrified into a concentrated mask that shielded all emotions.

His irises turned so black that they completely swallowed his pupil, reduced to a minimum like that of a drug addict. And they always remained motionless, fixed on my every movement, expressionless. His eyelids felt stiff, almost never droopy, as if his eyes didn't need normal lubrication.

They were anxiety inducing. They looked like glass.

He himself seemed made of glass, sculpted in an austere posture that elevated him above the others in a way so natural that it made him appear superior to any other human being.

The elevator doors clinked and I took a deep breath in a ridiculous attempt to calm myself. The thirteenth floor was completely empty. There was no sign of Dimitri. No noise betrayed anyone's presence. Maybe, if I was lucky, I didn't even know Mr. Farrow and I could leave the project folder on his desk and immediately and calmly return to my desk.

"Brooke." His deep, calm voice made me jump.

I quickly turned to the right and saw him. He stood with one shoulder casually leaning against the bathroom door frame, his hands wrapped in a white towel rubbing together in movements that seemed deliberately slow.

"Good morning, Mr. Farrow." I said, cursing myself when I realized I had stuttered. "Connor sent me."