I perched on the edge of the plush leather chair in Hellen’s office—or ours now, truly—our shared command centre of blueprints, fabric swatches, and relentless ambition sprawled across the vast expanse like a general’s war map.
Sunlight poured molten through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding every surface in honeyed warmth—the expanded polished oak table glead like a battleship’s deck.
Stacks of Helly Paws prototypes cluttered one end—tiny knit sweaters embroidered with pawprints for pampered cats, waterproof raincoats tailored for rowdy dogs, even prototype blankets for farm cows folded neat beside pattern drafts—while our laptops humd open mid-spreadsheet, screens glowing with order projections and factory tilines.
My floral maxi dress cascaded in pastel blooms of rose, lavender, and sage from halter neck to ankle slits, pooling soft and ethereal around my bare ankles as I crossed my legs, facing Hellen across the table’s gleaming divide, the fabric’s airy drape fluttering faint against my thighs in the AC’s breath.
"You’ve replaced the table with a bigger one," I noted, gesturing at its monolithic sprawl—long enough for four but built for our two-head chaos—my fingers tracing lazy whorls along the wood grain, still tacky from morning polish.
"Yeah, I did." Hellen leaned back in her high-backed executive chair, the leather creaking a low protest under her poised fra, eyes locking onto mine with that steady, unblinking intensity, blonde ponytail swaying loose and casual over one shoulder—strands catching the light like spun gold threads.
"Well, it’s big."
Navy blazer hugged her shoulders sharp, white silk blouse unbuttoned just at the collar to reveal a glimpse of collarbone. "Do you like the new one? More room for two now—your sketches won’t crowd mine off the edge anymore." She still had bandages over her injured hand.
"It’s just a table," I shrugged.
"Of course it’s a table." Her good hand drifted absently through the ponytail, fingers combing the golden waves further into tousled freedom.
I tilted my head slow, eyes narrowing curious as I leaned an inch closer. "You’ve changed your hairstyle again?"
"Yes." She arched a single brow high, full lips curving that subtle, knowing smile, ponytail swishing as she canted her head. "Is there a problem? You nagged into switching it up, rember?"
"Not much. I just called you boring. Didn’t know that it would trigger this, though it’s a repeated hairstyle from our previous eting," I grinned wide, leaning forward on elbows now, maxi fluttering higher at my thighs.
"Please, don’t say anything, will you?" Hellen’s gaze sharpened keen, arms folding deliberate over her navy blazer, fabric pulling taut across her chest—but a weird flicker shadowed her eyes, sothing probing and edged, like territorial static humming beneath the calm. "What happened with the new bodyguard?" Her voice dipped lower, probing velvet over steel, fingers drumming once on the table—light but insistent.
"It went great. Her na’s Reyes." Except that incident.
"Reyes?" Hellen’s brow furrowed faint, windswept flow that softened her sharp cheekbones, voice dipping even huskier—probing now, laced with sothing unreadable. She lowered her gaze a fraction, eyes flicking to the prototypes as if they held answers, jaw tightening subtle.
"Yes—we hit the park first," I waved airy, pulse quickening at the recall, coffee mug cradled warm in my palms, "then the movies."
"You went to the movies?" Her tone lilted sceptical, chair creaking deep as she leaned in closer across the table—eyes locking mine now, intense, searching, the room’s sunlight haloing her like a challenge.
Why was she looking at like that? It made feel sothing weird.
"We did." I nodded, bare toes curling against the cool floor. "The movie was great—Paws & Mayhem. Talking dogs pulling heists, total chaos. Perfect escape from... everything." My grin turned teasing, but Hellen’s stare held, that weird glint lingering, unspoken questions thickening the air between us like sumr storm clouds.
"Why are you at like that? It’s as if you are angry." I lowered my eyes, looking away. Was Hellen angry at ?
"I am not angry at you, Emily. But you didn’t do sothing important, did you?" Hellen snapped her fingers, making look at her. "Answer , will you?"
"Well, I was just bored, and scared to go out at night," I admitted with a sheepish shrug. Honestly, I was still scared to go out at night, except when I am with Hellen—and now, Reyes.
Hellen’s gaze held mine a beat longer, ponytail swaying faint as she tilted her head. "What about the other tis? Are you not afraid?"
Other tis?
Why does she want to know that?
"Well, you are with during the other tis," I shot back playful, leaning back in the leather chair with a grin. That was true. She was with all the tis when I was out in the night, except yesterday.
She froze—chair creaking silent under her, eyes widening a fraction, jaw tightening subtle as that weird glint sharpened into sothing rawer, territorial. See? Told you—overprotective. Then she stood abrupt, navy blazer pulling taut across broad shoulders, ponytail whipping once like a golden lash.
"Where are you going?" I asked, brow quirking curious, legs uncrossing slow as I tracked her rise.
Hellen paused at the office door, hand on the polished handle, back to for a breath—shoulders squared steel before she glanced over, voice even but edged. "I want to use the restroom for a bit."
"Oh? How much ti will it take?" I echoed light, but my pulse skipped, watching her stride out, door clicking soft shut behind her—air thickening sudden with unspoken static, Helly Paws sketches rustling faint in the AC’s hum.
Hellen didn’t answer my question.
I sighed loudly, shaking my head at her reaction. "Why was she so overprotective? It’s not that I am her wife or anything." Hah, alphas are very weird, and hard to read. Wait? I am an alpha too. Maybe the others thought the sa thing about . A smirk spread across at my face at this very thought. "Maybe I will have a mysterious aura around in the future."
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