Chapter 39
“Yes. It’s on a separate ventilation system, isolated from the rest of the facility. For everyone’s comfort, I conduct business with alphas there, well removed from scent distractions.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” At least he wasn’t being thrown out on his ass. He struggled to his feet, tucked his fading erection in his pants, and finished dressing. Feeling a little less like a total moron, he retrieved his briefcase and meekly followed the beta out of the room.
* * * *
Once downstairs, Channing led him into an elegant, exceptionally neat office furnished in gleaming cherry wood pieces. Beyond the large desk was a sitting room area with a beige couch and two matching upholstered chairs flanking a heavy coffee table. “Please sit down.” He opened a tall cabinet, pulled out a canister of wipes, and handed it to Grant. “Here. These will help get his scent off you.”
Grant sat on the couch and slumped, feigning exhaustion. He pulled out a wipe and sniffed it. Some kind of astringent smell, not strong enough to be offensive, but once it got into his nose, he could no longer detect the alluring omega fragrance. With regret, he rubbed the moist cloth over his hands and face while Channing retrieved bottles of water from the built-in refrigerator below the cabinet.
Face pinched, the beta took the chair opposite Grant. “Because I understand the urgency of finding the missing children, I’ve tried to cooperate. But today’s performance, I’m sorry to say, has stretched my good will to its limits. I think it would be better for you to wait until the omega is safely mated. Then, with his alpha’s permission, you could interview him with no danger of any further embarrassment.”
Grant bit back an angry denial and forced a wan smile. “Of course, you’re right, but those missing children don’t have the luxury of waiting. If they aren’t found soon, they may be—”
He was interrupted by a very young, very flustered assistant bursting into the office.
Channing glared at the man. “I’m with a client, John.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but this can’t wait.”
The beta studied the panicked expression on the man’s face, then stood. “Excuse me for a moment.” He ushered the assistant out into the hall.
Grant tiptoed after them, pressed his ear against the closed door, and grinned. The furniture might be solid quality cherry wood, but the building itself was hollow-doored bargain basement construction—he could hear the conversation with no problem.
The director’s voice had risen an octave. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s true. After the near miss with your client in there, the omega should have been mad with heat. But there’s nothing—I saw him myself.”
“The doctor’s certain?”
“Yes—it’s faulty heat syndrome, for sure. Raphael Vargas will never be able to breed. He’s worthless.”
Channing groaned. “I’ve already made the financial arrangements. Tommy Morton is coming tomorrow to take possession of his new omega.”
“Maybe we can substitute the kid who came in last week, the one with early heat onset.”
“Even if Morton would accept the child, I wouldn’t make the deal. I can’t risk that lumbering oaf ruining another prize piece of our stock.”
Sighing, the assistant added, “And we won’t be getting replacements anytime soon.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I think I’ll let that Omega Council idiot interrogate Vargas after all. What could it hurt now? And maybe it will hurry the investigation along.”
“I’ll go make the arrangements.”
“No, I’ll tend to it. You stay here and keep an eye on him. I don’t want any surprises.”
Grant rushed back to his seat on the couch and draped one arm over his eyes.
The door opened, and the assistant came in and stood in front of him. “Excuse me, sir, Mr. Channing has gone to arrange your interview. It shouldn’t take long.”
Grant straightened and stared at the man. “Thank you.” He sniffed once. And again. Then inhaled a long, deep breath through his nose. Looking up at the assistant, he murmured, “That scent. That luscious scent. It’s all over you.” Grant leaned forward and stretched out his arms, hiding his smile as alarm spread across the man’s face.
“Sir, I—”
“‘Oh, I do apologize, I can’t…seem…to resist.” Grant sniffed again, focused his gaze on the man’s crotch, and licked his lips. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited outside and gave me a few minutes to regain my composure.”
The man backed away, nodding in fervent agreement. “Yes. Of course. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Red-faced, the man fled.
Grant came close to choking as he held in the laughter. He moved to the desk and hunted for a password cheat sheet. God willing, Rafael’s explanation was correct: The better the security level, the harder it was to remember the password. And this place had kick-ass security. The password had to be written somewhere.