Page 91 of In Too Deep
I swear to God, Gideon must have a dozen copies of the same suit. Black jacket and pants, a crisp white shirt, a plain steel-gray tie and pocket square. His hair is slicked back, his cheeks shaved smooth, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. And his hazel eyes are cold and sharp as topaz. Our gazes connect, and I roll my shoulders back before striding forward on remarkably steady legs.
“You do like your dramatic entrances, Mr. St. Clair. Though I can’t imagine what may have brought you to our door so soon after your last visit.” I make a point to emphasize my last few words as I come to stand level with Dee in front of him.
“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve missed you?” Gideon asks slyly, even going so far as to wink at me.
A growl from behind me—Spencer, if I’m not mistaken—pulls Gideon’s gaze away from my face for a moment, his smirk widening.
“So, my guess was right after all,” he says to himself, low enough that only Dee and I can hear.
“I require a word with you. In private,” Gideon says, first to me, and then to my boss.
“Not on your life,” Oli snarls, over a small scuffle before it goes quiet.
I glance toward the window, and I can’t help but smile as I see the reflection of Eli doing his best to hold back Oli and Spencer. At least one of my alphas has enough sense to realize how serious this situation is.
“Ace is right, though. We can find somewhere quieter to talk. Follow me,” Dee says, already moving toward one of the smaller rooms that connect to this hallway.
I fix my gaze on Gideon, daring him to do something, anything that could show a crack in his polished, collected expression. But he just turns on his heel and follows Dee, striding throughthe door he holds open for him. Dee waits for me, a worried expression pulling at his dark face.
“As your lawyer, I must strongly advise you not to go in there,” Rita says as she scurries up to my side.
“He literally owns the building we’re standing in. It’s going to be worse if I don’t,” I mutter, even as my guts twist with nerves.
“As your prime alpha, I really should—”
I give Oli an exasperated look. “Already trying to boss me around and we haven’t even gone public.” I sigh, trying to cover my fear with humor.
“Seriously, sunshine. I don’t like this. One of us—”
“Sometime today, Miss Strauss!”
Everyone freezes at the sound of Gideon’s bark, even the alphas in the room. Poor Rita nearly falls over before Spencer’s agent darts forward and catches her elbow. I’ve never heard anything like that in my life. I’m shivering as icy-cold compulsion slides down my spine and sends me stumbling backward, away from my pack. I can’t control my feet, or the chattering of my teeth, and can only give my pack an apologetic look before I finally give in and fully obey the command.
I practically sprint into the small conference room, and Dee tries to follow. But Gideon is there, right over the threshold, and as soon as I’m past him, he reaches out and grabs the door from Dee and slams it, clicking the lock into place. I take several steps backward, needing to put some distance between myself and Gideon, but I don’t like how he’s standing between me and my only exit.
“Well, now that we’re alone, we can be honest with each other at last, don’t you agree?” Gideon sneers, pacing forward even as I continue to move back.
His mask is completely gone now. The calm, even somewhat pleasant businessman and hockey fan I thought I knew is nowhere to be seen. This is the Gideon St. Clair who peoplespeak of only in hushed voices, always looking over their shoulders for. Suddenly, I’m afraid for much more than my career. He stops when we’re near the center of the room, and I shiver unpleasantly as his hazel orbs rake down my body and then back up to my face, distaste in every pore of his countenance.
“You are fucking lucky I don’t string your ass from the arena rafters by your toenails for the shit you’ve pulled, Victoria,” Gideon starts, straightening to his full height.
My instinct is to curl inward, to make myself smaller and hopefully earn some mercy from this alpha’s rage. To roll over and show my belly like a good omega.
Too bad for Gideon that I’ve had years of practice in suppressing my instincts.
I straighten my spine and slide my hand into my pocket, unlocking phone and navigating it by muscle memory alone. I can only pray that I’ve selected the right options as I lift my chin and stay silent.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Do you think you have a cunt made of gold? Because you’re not going to be able to fuck your way out of this one,” he snaps.
“This is hardly an appropriate way for an employer to speak to their employees,” I retort, shutting down my emotions.
He wants a reaction. He wants to get under your skin and break you.But today is not the day, and I’m not the one.
“I’ll speak to you however I goddamn please, Victoria. And if you have a singular ounce of sense in that bottle-blonde head of yours, you’ll mind your tone with me,” he fires back.
“What tone? You’re the one who threatened to hang me from the arena rafters a few seconds ago,” I reply, easing into the brattiest version of myself I possibly can while remaining professional.
“That’s the least I could do for the insubordinate bullshit you’ve been flinging at me. You don’t get to undermine me and get away with it. Lesser men have tried, and I’ve painted my office walls with their blood.”