Breathe (His Command Book 5) Read online

  But no matter how much he analyzed the failings of his past, the facts remained: he’d still trashed his phone with no hope of being able to afford another one, and that meant that talking to the one man who made the rest of his awful life seem okay was out of the picture.

  “You’ve just got to keep going, Oli.” He spoke the words to himself out loud, like doing so might help him accept that they were true. “You’ve got to move on. If he’s there waiting for you when you get a phone again, great. If not, then he wasn’t that interested in you to begin with. Everything is going to work out for the best as long as you put in the effort to see it through. That’s all. Just keep your chin up and keep going.”

  But no matter how he urged his heart to commit to the idea, it never stopped mourning what he knew he’d already lost.

  5

  Marshall

  The board meeting dragged on into infinity. Marshall absentmindedly tapped at his phone, and out of habit, he brought up his conversation history with Oliver. The last message he’d received was dated two weeks ago, and Oliver’s profile hadn’t been active since.

  “Mr. Alcrest?” Samantha Harper asked. She tapped her stylus against the side of her tablet several times to redirect his attention.

  Marshall met her gaze and flipped his phone screen-side down. “Yes, Ms. Harper?”

  “You sat out on the vote. It’s divided. Vocalizing your position is absolutely mandatory if we wish to adjourn the meeting.”

  Somewhere among the papers neatly arranged in the portfolio in front of him was the topic of the vote, Marshall was sure, but he couldn’t ask the board to wait while he flipped through his documents and scrambled to catch up. He remained calm and composed, returning Samantha’s steely gaze with ice of his own. Whatever the topic of the vote, it didn’t matter to him. In six months, he’d be stepping down. He’d already made the decision.

  “In favor,” Marshall said.

  A murmur ran through the room. For a moment, Samantha looked betrayed. Then her expression brightened—artificially, if Marshall was any judge—and she tapped at her tablet screen a few more times. “In that case, I’ll send the email to HR. Preparations will begin immediately. It’s an ambitious project, but with the confidence of the board, I’m sure it will result in success.”

  Marshall studied her posture and the look on her face, then ran his fingers down the side of his phone, searching for the button that would light the screen back up. If it hadn’t been flipped over, he would have checked the conversation again, just to see if anything had changed.

  Samantha continued, unperturbed by his apparent gaff. “If there aren’t any other concerns or questions, I believe we can safely adjourn this meeting. Thank you for your patience today. An email will arrive before tomorrow at five detailing the decisions made today, for your own records.”

  Marshall’s fingers continued to trace the side of his phone, but he kept his gaze on Samantha until she looked at him again. For a second, their eyes locked. Samantha’s lips tightened, irritation flickered in her eyes, and she looked away. Never once did she lose face. Leadership was in her genes, and she flaunted her control with cool, subtle dominance that allowed her to hold captive any room she entered. She would replace him when he stepped down. There was no candidate more suited to the position.

  As the men and women of the board left the room, Marshall remained seated. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, biding his time until he had clear passage to the door. No one said a word to him on their way past. Their silence was a gift. It was only Samantha who stopped by his chair at the head of the table. She’d tucked her tablet against her hip, and the surprise she’d shown earlier was stripped from her face. “Do you need help getting up, Marshall?”

  “No, thank you.” Marshall pushed his chair back from the table and rose. “It’s kind of you to ask, but I’m fine.”

  Samantha arched a carefully groomed brow. “I appreciate your optimism, but you don’t need to lie to me.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Marshall tucked his phone into his pocket, then collected his documents from the desk and slid them into his briefcase. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  Samantha’s expression was unreadable. “Barely.”

  “If you’re going to insist on babysitting me, let’s walk.” Marshall snapped his briefcase closed. “I know you’re busy. I don’t want to keep you from the rest of your day.”

  Samantha scoffed, but she didn’t object. As they walked, she freed the briefcase from his hand and carried it for him. They exited the board room in silence, then traveled to the elevator. Marshall reached for the control panel to push the button that would bring them to the executive floor, but Samantha blocked his hand and inputted a command of her own. The elevator rose, traveling past the executive offices to the roof. It opened to the small room leading to the rooftop exit.

  “Come,” Samantha said. The staccato clicks of her leather pumps echoed in the small, barren room. She climbed the short staircase leading to the door, then held it open for him.

  Marshall followed at a slower pace. He stopped at the foot of the staircase, drew in a few even breaths, then started to climb.

  Five steps. It was only five steps. He could do it. He knew he could. But by the time he’d arrived at the landing, he had to lean against the railing and pant for breath. His lungs shriveled, and try as he might to hold it back, a dry cough erupted from his throat and forced him to double over. Once he started coughing, he couldn’t stop. They came from a deep place inside of him, squeezing his lungs and tightening his throat until he was sure that if he coughed just one more time, he’d hack something up he wasn’t supposed to. The pain lined his throat like knives, and by the time the fit passed, all he wanted to do was sit and do nothing at all.

  Samantha’s expression tightened, but she didn’t say a word. She held the door open patiently, and when Marshall found it in him to keep moving, she guided him through with a light touch of her fingertips between his shoulder blades.

  “Let’s sit,” Samantha suggested. The roof of the Synecta building had been converted into a green space, but apart from the gardeners, Marshall was certain that very few of his employees ever visited it. The vista of the city from thirty stories up stretched out in front of them, divided into equal segments by latticework columns that bore leafy, climbing vines that flowered when the temperature was right. Judging by the look of their plump buds, it wouldn’t be long before they spilled their petals and achieved full radiance. Benches were positioned by the lookout point, framed on either side by boxes of plants that Marshall had no name for, still too early in the season to be lush and rich. It wouldn’t be long before they bloomed and framed the impressive view of downtown Aurora with their fronds. In the distance, Oracle Point Towers loomed, joined by several other high-rise buildings that made up Aurora’s skyline.

  The sight didn’t seem to captivate Samantha. She settled on the bench without looking out across the city and patted the space next to her in a dignified manner, but Marshall had no interest in sitting. He made his way to the railing dividing the roof from the ground below and leaned against it.

  “What are you doing here?” Samantha asked. It wasn’t a malicious question, but it didn’t try to pad itself as something it wasn’t. “How long has it been now? Three years? I don’t understand your motive.”

  “Nothing has changed,” Marshall said with finality.

  In the corner of his eye, Marshall saw Samantha move. It looked like she was about to stand, but before she followed through, she seated herself once again.

  “I don’t buy that.”

  Marshall shrugged. “I’m not asking you to.”

  “You can’t keep going like this.” Samantha’s tone was as firm and unyielding as Marshall assumed her expression to be. “You can barely climb the stairs, Marshall. I know that it’s none of my concern, and that you must have your reasons, whatever they are, but I can’t think of a single reason why you’d w
ant to be here right now. Even if you invested nothing, even if you squandered your money on frivolous purchases, there’s nothing holding you back from walking away right now. I may not have been here from the start, but I’ve seen our profit margins. I know the upward trends we’ve been experiencing over the last forty quarters. You have the means to support yourself and live comfortably for the time you have left, so why the hell aren’t you doing it?”

  The longer she spoke, the more impassioned she became. For as long as he’d known her, Samantha had always been the cool voice of reason—the first one to look at a problem and see opportunity instead of ruin. But now? Marshall heard the pain in her voice just as well as he heard its rattling uncertainty.

  She cared about him, he realized.

  He closed his eyes and let the wind muss his hair and tease his sleeves.

  “I’m doing this on my terms,” Marshall said simply. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but she deserved one. “It’s what I want.”

  “How can this be what you want?” Her voice shook. “You’re in your goddamn forties. You’re successful and you’re capable. Why are you letting this go on? It’s killing you, Marshall. You don’t have to let it win.”

  Marshall’s lips twitched, and he repeated himself. “It’s what I want.”

  This time, Samantha did rise. The click of her heels on the finished concrete was a fast staccato beat, and when Marshall turned to look at her, she was already directly behind him. The palm of her hand met his cheek before he had time to anticipate it, and the crisp smack of skin on skin rang out across the empty rooftop. Marshall rubbed the spot where she’d slapped him. The grit of his stubble scratched his palm. His stinging skin cooled beneath the pads of his fingers.

  “You selfish bastard,” Samantha hissed. “You goddamn idiot. There’s nothing poetic about this. There’s no sense in this.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  Her lips quivered only for a second. Anger flashed in her eyes and ran through the blues of her irises like lightning. Marshall expected her to slap him again, but instead, she stepped away. “One day before it takes you, Marshall, you’re going to regret your choices.” The collected Samantha he knew was back, even though emotion brought her clenched hands to tremble. “You’ll wish that you had fought when that happens.”

  “I appreciate the warning.”

  “It’s the last one you’ll have from me.” She turned and headed for the door to the elevator, the click of her shoes marking the time between her words. “I have no patience for a man who doesn’t respect himself, no matter how much he respects others. I care about you, Marshall. I just wish you’d care about yourself.”

  The door opened and closed just as quickly. She was gone, and Marshall was alone.

  6

  Oli

  Oli stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, narrowing his eyes until he couldn’t so much as see his sclera. He leaned a little closer so he could examine the stubble on his chin and determined that it was at the right length—not long enough to look scruffy or unprofessional, but not so short that he was patchy or baby-faced. It lent him maturity and ruggedness he prayed would help visually dispel the impact of his heat during Tuesday’s interview.

  Heat suppressants worked just fine, but they never fully did away with the scent of a fertile omega. Smelling like sex-on-legs was the last thing Oli needed while meeting the men and women who would shape his career, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t keep crashing with Cedric forever—especially with Cedric Two-Point-Oh on the way.

  Babies weren’t exactly Oli’s jam.

  He pushed back from the sink, opened his eyes to look himself over from a distance, then determined that he’d be good to go for Tuesday’s interview as long as he maintained his appearance. By then, maybe his heat would have died down enough that it’d be undetectable. He was at the peak of his cycle now, after all. It wasn’t so much of a stretch to think that it’d be negligible by the time he had to report to HR.

  Oli reached for the blister pack of contraceptives he’d placed on the back of the sink, intending to take his daily dose now that he’d finished grooming himself, but before he could pick it up, there was a knock on the bathroom door. He dropped his hand and left the pills untouched. “Hello?”

  “Hey. I thought it was you in here.” Cedric sounded more chipper than usual, and that meant trouble.

  Oli furrowed his brow in suspicion. “What is it?”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Um. Nothing.” Oli unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. He stuck his head out. “But you know, it’s weird as hell to ask me what I’m up to through the bathroom door. Do you want to chat? We could do that in the living room, unless you want to come in here and cheer me on while I do bathroom stuff, like some poor cheerleader who’s seen some serious—and I guess literal—shit.”

  “Are you done?” Cedric raised a brow. “Please, don’t interrupt your regularly scheduled bathroom programming for me.”

  “You’re feisty today.” Oli opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out. As he did, he heard something fall to the floor by the sink. He looked over his shoulder, but saw nothing and shrugged it off. “As a matter of fact, I was done. I was looking to see if I could pull off having stubble at Tuesday’s interview, since my heat decided it wanted to be part of this wild and crazy unemployment party.”

  “You look fine. Slightly unkempt suits you.”

  “That’s a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one.” Oli beamed. “Oh, Cedric, you know how to keep me on my toes. What would I ever do without you?”

  Cedric laughed. He nodded down the hall toward the living room. “Come on. I want to talk about your plans tonight.”

  Oli clucked his tongue and shook his head slowly as he followed Cedric to the living room. “I knew the temptation would be too great if I came to live here. I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn down your offer for a hot date.” The energy between them was right for playful banter, and there was only one person he loved trading verbal jabs with more than Cedric. Memories of Alcrest depleted some of Oli’s joy, but he resolved to bounce back. “I haven’t forgotten that you’re currently in a committed relationship with a man who’s so crazy for you, he thought it’d be a good idea to bear your children.”

  “Ha ha.” Cedric perched on the arm of the couch, and while he settled, Oli sat cross-legged in the middle facing his host. “I’m not asking you out on a date, but I am forcing you to go out tonight.”

  “You can try.” Oli rested his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his hands. He leaned forward. “But you know, going out isn’t high on my list of things to do. I’m not particularly eager to get salivated over tonight. I don’t know if your instincts have shut off because you’re madly in love, or maybe you’re just congested, but if you weren’t actually listening to me in the bathroom and you haven’t already smelled it, I’m currently balls deep in my heat right now, and I know I reek of it.”

  “My nose is working just fine, thanks.” Cedric capped his knees with his hands and shot Oli a look that Oli had last seen back in high school when Cedric had dangled the keys to his parents’ car from his fingers and announced they were going on a late-night joy ride. “But if anything, being in heat is going to work in your favor—I want you to come to work with me tonight.”

  “Um. No.” Oli laughed. The request was so ridiculous that he didn’t even need to think about whether he would or not. “You work in a kink club, AKA, a watering hole for thirsty alphas. And you know who’s a cool, tempting glass of water? No thanks.”

  “If you go, drinks are on me all night.”

  Oli lifted a hand, a single finger raised to make a point, but no words came. The finger curled pathetically, he shut his mouth, then he glared at Cedric. “You play a hard game, Langston.”

  “Play hard or go home.”

  “It’s low to tempt me with free alcohol. What’s the catch?” Oli narrowed his eyes.
“You’ve got a motive. You wouldn’t ask me to go if there wasn’t something going on. So, what is it?”

  “It’s The Shepherd’s annual open house.” Cedric stretched his arms far over his head and yawned, which told Oli that whatever open house at a kink club meant, it was a big deal. Cedric wouldn’t have tried to play it off so casually otherwise. “It’s the one night a year where we’re open to guests who don’t presently hold memberships—a free trial, to entice those who’ve never been before.”

  “Are you seriously trying to sell me on a club membership?” Oli narrowed an eye. “Really? I’m bumming money off you for groceries and living with you rent-free while I struggle to find a job and you’re trying to get me to pay to be part of your club?”

  “No.” Cedric dropped the act. He grinned sheepishly at Oli. “But the more omegas we have in the building, the better enrollment rates are, according to previous open houses. And an omega in heat? That’s going to be even better.”

  “Oh, gross.” Oli wrinkled his nose. “You’re using me as marketing. I never thought I’d put my degree to use like this.”

  “Then you’ll come?” Cedric asked.

  Oli rolled his eyes skyward. “Yes, I’ll come. If you want me to stand outside wearing a sandwich board tempting unsuspecting pedestrians into coming inside, I’ll do that too, if someone will bring me shots every now and then.”

  He could really use a drink. Or five. Losing his contact with Alcrest meant that he’d lost his sounding board. Cedric was his best friend, but with everything else going on in his life, Oli didn’t want to burden him with unnecessary early-morning rants that always ended in disjointed rambling.

  But more than that, losing contact with Alcrest hurt. Oli still hadn’t found the guts to ask Cedric or Gabriel for their phones. He didn’t know what he would say.